Chapter 10: Freedom

Finally, was all Aurora could think. At least at first. There was an abiding sense of rightness Aurora felt as Maleficent and Diaval walked into the dining room during breakfast. The young woman had felt the rushing, flowing magic emanating from Maleficent's room last night and was under no illusion as to what had caused it. She was so happy for them. It had been such a long time coming.

Aurora had to suppress a giggle when she saw their faces. Diaval was still in man form (Aurora was surpassingly amused at that), and his expression was wary, almost sheepish, and he couldn't look away from Maleficent for more than a few seconds at a time.

The most powerful faerie of the Moors was affecting a brittle layer of haughty disdain, moving with self-conscious grace and looking down her nose at everything and everyone. She seemed to be resolutely not looking at Diaval. It really took Aurora discreetly biting her own thumb to stop herself from snickering.

"Good morning," the queen offered with (she hoped) a guileless smile. She saw Philip duck his head to hide his own smile and Aurora deftly kicked his foot under the table. The prince dug into his breakfast sausage with a fervor that fooled no one.

At least Diaval could recover from the absurdity. "Good morning, Aurora." The raven put his arms around her shoulders from behind where she sat in her wooden dining chair. He rested his forehead in her blonde curls. "Good morning, good morning, good day, good year, good life," he murmured. "I am so glad to see you so alive and well this morning, my darling."

Overcome, Aurora spun in her chair and stood to hug him properly. She squeezed him for all he was worth and he returned it with enthusiasm.

If I had lost you, dear one, their embrace said, it would be like dying. I love you.

When they drew back, they both had tears in their eyes.

Eventually Aurora drew back from her protector, her hands sliding along his arms as she gazed into his dark eyes. "I won't ask now why you left," she whispered. "I trust you to tell me when it is time."

Diaval bowed his head and gently released her, stepping back. And Aurora saw that his gaze then immediately sought Maleficent.

The dark faerie was brooding in the corner, watching them. She looked at Aurora, and the young queen could see the longing in her yellow-green eyes, although her face was mostly blank. Aurora crossed the few steps to her and threw her arms around Maleficent too, threading her way under her wings.

Those massive wings came forward to cradle Aurora as Maleficent returned the embrace, cutting the two of them off from sight from the rest of the room. "My Beastie," Maleficent murmured.

"Godmother," Aurora replied.

"I will protect you."

"I know." Aurora looked up at Maleficent's face. "I'll protect you, too."

Maleficent's eyebrows rose but she released Aurora from the cocoon of her wings, drawing them back behind her body. Aurora couldn't resist reaching up to caress Maleficent's face for a brief moment before turning back to sit down again.

Philip reached out to hold her hand.

Last night, he had stayed with her until they parted at the door to her chambers. He had managed to be vigilant both to her needs and to their surroundings at all times. Aurora was so grateful for him. He was the sweetest dear, really, for all that he was ready to kill any man who threatened her. And while she had that protection from Maleficent and Diaval, from Philip it was thrilling in a different way. He was attentive, intelligent, decisive, and blue heavens, when he looked at her with all that focus it made her stomach feel like she'd stepped off a high place too fast. She realized she was staring at the line of his jaw and blushed. Maybe she didn't have as much space to tease Diaval and Maleficent as she had thought after all.

Diaval sat down at the table across from Aurora and dragged a plate of grapes toward himself.

"So," he quipped, popping a red ripe one into his mouth and leaning back, "what are we going to do today?"

The grin that Aurora had been suppressing split across her face. "Same thing we do every day, Diaval. Make a future better than the past."

He blinked at her and then grinned back, leaning forward again and taking her hands. "So where should I start?"

"Where do you think you should start, Diaval?" Maleficent drawled from the corner. "Free birds must learn to choose for themselves."

That made Diaval stand up and look at her. She coolly returned his gaze, eyebrow quirking up.

Diaval hesitated.

This was…unprecedented.

He had made his own decisions when he was young. Once he had left his parents' nest for good, he'd decided where to go, what to do.

But he had been just a raven, then. Only a bird.

Maleficent had made him so much more. His mind had grown and expanded in magical ways, opening his perspective and giving dimensions to his abilities in ways that Diaval had never conceptualized as possible.

And then she had proceeded to make all his decisions.

All the important ones, anyway. What to eat, where to perch, what to say, he had retained control of those. But his missions had become her missions, her tasks his tasks, her desires his desires, until he had been subsumed in the role of servant as his whole identity.

Now that identity was gone, or at least, in ragged ruins of floating scraps, blasted through by the reality of freedom.

Diaval felt like he was alone at the top of a mountain, spinning in a circle to determine which way to go.

Everywhere was too far away to see any detail at all. What the terrain was really like, what the climate might be, what allies or monsters might be lurking in hidden places.

But what was he really looking for?

A safe place, hidden and protected from enemies, where he could make a base with Maleficent and plan their next moves. Aurora, safe and happy and feeling fulfilled with all of the work she was doing to create her new reality. Maleficent, by his side, at his back, and yes, in his bed.

He looked at her now, and realized that the moment had stretched razor thin, and Maleficent and Aurora and Philip were all staring at him as he froze. Aurora was gently petting one side of his back. Philip had his chin in his hand and his elbow on the table as he watched Diaval. Maleficent was staring into his face.

"I want to go on patrol," Diaval heard himself say. "I want to look around and find all of our enemies who are left." He turned around to look at Aurora. "I want to find their hiding places, their friends, their faces. And I want to root them out." He turned back around to look at Maleficent. "Will you fly with me?"

She smiled at him, pulling away from the wall and reaching her hands out to him. Diaval stepped forward to take them. "Always," she said.

Diaval looked back at Aurora again. "Of course, Diaval," the queen said, also smiling. "Whatever you think best."

Diaval nodded to himself, and his impulse to get going grabbed his now-innate magic and all but threw him back into his raven form before he thought about it.

He flew through the corridors and out the nearest window, climbing fast to break out above the tallest tower, then flying in a tight circle to survey all directions. Before he had completed the second circuit, Maleficent appeared in the air beside him, her great wings making large draughts that Diaval had to work to adjust his flight for.

But then she unexpectedly dropped and landed on the roof of the tallest tower, looking up at him. Diaval didn't understand until she shrunk into her brown raven form, then took off and gained her place at his side.

"The better to fly with you, my dear," she croaked, a hint of laughter in her tone.

Diaval replied with a delighted "Rawk," and sped off in the direction of the ruined inn where Aurora had been held. This raven had a bone to pick with their local ironmonger.

He wondered if Maleficent would ever admit to him that she had landed at first because she was not used to transforming herself in midair.

That was nothing to worry about, though. Diaval would ensure she got plenty of opportunities to practice transformations like that.

Freedom was wonderful. It was full of wonders.

There was no use denying it, even to herself. Free Diaval was sexy.

In place of the cringing and crouching that he at times had done at her heel, he now stood erect, head up, hands on his hips as he confronted the ironmonger who had sold Creighton the walls of the cell where he had held Aurora. The faerie trap with the royal bait. It still made Maleficent's teeth grind. She lingered across the alley from the ironmonger's shop and watched through the window, not willing to risk a burn while Diaval interrogated him. The threat of Diaval's shapeshifting ability since news had spread of the dragon form had cowed the human into answering whatever Diaval was asking him.

The flash of her man's eyes as he accused the human of endangering their precious Aurora sent a corresponding flash of charge down Maleficent's spine. It pooled into heat in her belly. Her man. He had always been her raven, at least since he had bound himself. But now he was her lover. And what a lover.

Stefan's and her encounters had been an immature, stumbling mess in comparison to last night. And the two times she had been able to sneak a lover past Diaval in all these years had been faeries she did not expect to ever be with again. Love had not existed for her, then. She had waited until she knew Diaval would be watching the baby for at least a whole night before inviting a lover into her bed. It had been satisfactory. She had learned a great deal, especially since she had made sure to take—ample—advantage of her few hours alone. But it had never been like last night.

Last night it had been like Diaval was making love to her mind along with her body. She had never had an orgasm like that, like her heart was coming as her body did. She blushed and suddenly realized how public her appearance was here, especially to humans. She hiked her wings up around her horns and shielded her face from view from all directions but ahead.

Diaval noticed her movement from inside the shop. Of course, she should have realized he would. The raven turned a skewering glance back on the ironmonger and said a few parting words. The human was already pale and nodded fervently. Diaval sneered and walked out of the shop.

His confident walk as he approached Maleficent across the alley made her heart race. Freedom becomes him, she thought a bit breathlessly, but met his eyes as he stopped before her.

"It went well," he said, and ran a hand through his hair, looking up and away from her eyes. He shifted his weight for a second. "He knows the names of the others. Once we have him arrested, he'll spill." He looked back at Maleficent again.

"Well done," she murmured, and watched in amusement she had to conceal as he blushed. "We just have to make sure he doesn't run before they come to get him." She reached past Diaval with her staff and cast a spell that crept out as an acid-green web to engulf the whole shop. The human's terrified face as it closed around his whole building was rather entertaining.

"Where to next?" she asked lightly.

Diaval's face became grim. "The carpenter," he growled, and shrunk down to raven form again.

Maleficent followed suit, and they alighted.

Maleficent leaned her staff against the wall and shut the door to their tower room. Diaval was already standing with his back to her in the middle of the floor, stretching his arms up with linked hands above his head. He let the stretch go with a sigh.

"I think that was productive," he said. "Three arrests, two new spies, and a lead on that moneylender. Tomorrow we can go and find him." He hesitated, then looked at her over his shoulder. "As…long as that's all right with you."

"It is all right with me, Diaval," she murmured, and her voice came out softer than they both expected. She took a step toward him and the color immediately came up in his cheeks. "It is all all right with me." She put a hand on his shoulder.

He turned to face her fully. "Maleficent," he said thickly, "I can't tell you how…incredible it is that you are doing this with me. That you are sticking by me. How much…you…trust me." His eyes were all but swimming when he looked at her.

She couldn't stand it anymore and grabbed both sides of his face. She kissed him hard and watched his eyes fly open. "Of course I trust you, you fool," she hissed.

She was about to elaborate when he kissed her back and started crowding her back against the door. He seemed to remember last night's lessons very well because his hands weren't wasting time messing about on her shoulders. They were clinging to her hips and even pulling her against him, and his lips had already parted and his tongue was in her mouth now.

Maleficent shuddered involuntarily as she felt him harden against her. This was moving much faster than last time and her head was starting to spin a bit. He was pressing against her and now let go of the kiss, burying his face in her neck and starting to frot on her against the wall. He seemed to fall into instinct very fast during sex and she wondered for a moment how well she would be able to reach his mind now that they had got into it.

He was really grinding on her now and showing no signs of stopping. "Diaval," she gasped, and was a little mortified that she was gasping already. No response. "Diaval!" She pulled on his hair and his blown pupils stared into her eyes. "Diaval, clothes," she said firmly. Best to keep communication as simple as possible.

His gaze sharpened as his mind returned and his scowl was amusing. He flung himself back from her and started ripping at his shirt. He froze, though, when she tapped a claw against his chest. "Allow me," she murmured, and the stunned look on his face drew a smile to her lips. She used his sudden immobility to her advantage and slid his jacket, then his shirt off his shoulders. She took a moment to admire his body.

While she had chosen this shape for him, she hadn't given the magic any details beyond "into a man." Diaval was strong because his raven body was strong, trim because it was his nature to be fastidious, and handsome because his soul was kind and generous. The occasional feathers that never quite receded all the way into his skin were fascinating little discoveries, and there were a few scars that were actually mysteries to the faerie.

She was just smoothing the line of hair that led down into his trousers when she felt his fingers under her chin and looked up. His eyes were heavy-lidded now and blazing. He caught her traveling hand by the wrist and brought it up to kiss her knuckles. Suddenly self-conscious, she felt a blush heat her cheeks and neck. He pulled her forward by that hand and kissed her mouth again, and the slowness he used now pulled a moan from her. So much for mindless. This felt entirely deliberate.

His arms came around her under her wings and fumbled around her back as he kissed her. It ruined his suavity a bit, but she figured out that he was scrabbling for her dress laces and reached one hand back to give him an end. He was dexterous enough once he knew where to pull, and the dress started to fall off her shoulders. She broke the kiss to pull it off and step out, sending a little wave of magic to whisk the garment away and fold it in a corner, leaving her with just her underskirt.

She pulled his body against hers in a hug and felt that she would never get enough of the sensation of his skin on hers. Her chin was on his shoulder and her fingers were finding all sorts of little feathers to trace beneath the skin of his back. He started to thread his fingers into her wing feathers and it made her shiver. Her feathers didn't have nerves themselves, but she could feel where each one was anchored in her wings, and sense the slightest twitch of each feather. Her wings had been missing for so many years that she wasn't completely used to their sensations anymore. And the mere fact of another person touching her feathers was new and commanded her attention.

But this wasn't just another person, it was Diaval, and the reverence he used in stroking her feathers made her knees weak. She leaned on him heavily now, and his hands went back to her sides to steady her. He looked into her face and she tried to project to him wordlessly how much she appreciated him, indeed how much she loved him.

She couldn't say it—yet—but he seemed to understand it anyway because he crushed her in a tight hug, her wings flaring out a bit to keep her balance as she squeezed back.

"I love you, you know."

The words fell like ice over her head and she shivered again although his body was warm against hers. So he had said it. And yes, really, she did know. It seemed so clear now, it was almost a wonder to her how she had missed it for all these years. His bondage had been like a wall between them. Now they were flying above it, together, and it seemed unbearably cruel not to answer him truthfully.

"I know," she whispered. He tensed. "I—know," she continued, "because I also…" Why is this so difficult? "...also love you." There. She let out a gust of breath. She had said it, he had heard it, it was done.

He drew back and looked at her face again, searching, and she found herself straightening and pulling away. "Of course," she said, and what, exactly, was she saying? "It's clear, undoubtedly, so we need not—" He silenced the nonsense with a kiss and she melted gratefully into it, preferring to lose herself in the physical communication instead of the verbal.

His arms seemed to be trying to envelop her entirely, and his hands began to move all over her back and shoulders. She clung tightly in return, but sucked in a breath against the kiss when his hands gripped her bottom. She leaned on him again, and he walked them backward until he sat down on the bed and she straddled his lap. Her underskirt was riding up ridiculously, so she backed off of him and swept it off her, along with her hood, and her hair tumbled out. She enjoyed the look of anticipation and desire on his face. He reached for her and she stepped back into his hold, his hands on her hips as she straddled his lap again.

She drew her hands over his shoulders and chest just to feel the skin and the muscle beneath, smoothing over his pectorals and abdomen. He was hers, now. In a very different way than before. Diaval as a lover was infinitely to be preferred over Diaval as a lowly servant. The years they had wasted pained her now, a little, but the present was so agreeable that the past couldn't hold her attention for long. This inviting body of his was now hers to enjoy. And his mind—

She had let her thoughts wander. She jerked her attention back to his face. He was watching her touch his body, eyes hooded but all too knowing. She realized he was holding very still, but his breathing was fast and his pulse jumped in his neck. He was very hard underneath her and she shifted at the reminder, and actually noticed a wet spot she had left on his trousers.

It was time for those trousers to come off.

The thought manifested as a spell of golden light that split all the seams of his trousers, and they collapsed in pieces around where he was sitting, the front panels falling around him as the ties sprang apart at her command. He gasped as the trousers fell apart, but then grinned in her face. "You could have just asked, you know," he goaded.

"Silence."

He chuckled and reached up to grab her under the wing joints, forcing her to stand as he shook off the fabric pieces. "Just for that," he murmured, "I'm going to tell you everything I'm thinking."

"Diaval—"

"No." He stood, and she had never resented that he was a few centimeters taller than her until now. "You listen." He brought his hands up to hold both sides of her face this time. His dark eyes were inescapable. "I have been enchanted by you—loved you—for years. Years. I thought I would never have you. But at least I had a reason to be beside you as your servant." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out. But he still did not release her face. "When you no longer needed me—" He turned his head away and shut his eyes in pain. She couldn't drag her voice up in time to speak before he continued, "I couldn't live with that.

"But now." His eyes found hers again and they burned. "I couldn't live without you."

"Yes you could," she argued, but her traitor voice was hoarse. "You could…." She was about to tell him why, because he was intelligent, resourceful, creative, and more, but her will brought down a boulder blocking that path in her mind. "But you won't." She felt her magic flare with her conviction, webs of green-gold light billowing out of her and splashing against the close walls.

He shivered and finally dropped his hands from her face. He half-turned from her, but she didn't care if he was overwhelmed, he should be overwhelmed, and face her anyway, so she pushed his shoulder back until he was square with her again. When he met her eyes this time, she was annoyed to see traces of distrust still there. How deep did this fear of his run, that she would be willing to discard him? It had no place in this world and would be rooted out. She scowled. "Diaval." His name came out in the tone she had erstwhile used to command him. He snapped to attention. Old habits die hard. "I will not leave you. Cease this foolishness."

Now he scowled. "Very well," Mistress, they both heard the echo of the unsaid title. He eyed her up and down and she remembered they were both naked. "In that case—" he added, and grabbed her around the waist and flung her on her back onto the narrow bed.

One of her wings was half on the floor and the other was flattened against the wall and half-obscuring the window, and the breath had been slightly knocked out of her. She'd had just a moment to cry out in indignance before he laid himself down on top of her. They resumed the kiss, and Maleficent let herself submerge in bliss for a few minutes, just enjoying Diaval and his body on hers and their tongues in each other's mouths.

And then he began to grind on her again, and what a difference clothes had made. Maleficent broke the kiss to inhale, breath picking up as the slide of skin on skin warmed her from outside in. The tips of her horns were just scratching the wall behind her and it was getting annoying, so she shoved down the bed a bit. That friction dragged a gasp from Diaval and he focused back on her face.

His pupils were blown again but he was searching her face. He had stopped his grinding and was just hovering above her now, a fine tremor running through him. "Maleficent," he rasped, and her name in his voice full of such lust made her shudder. "Are you…r-ready?" He stumbled a bit on the word.

She squirmed, and reached down to draw some of her own wetness over his cock. He closed his eyes and shivered. Watching his face was a pleasure all its own as he tried to keep control. When she had decided he was as ready as she was, she pushed on his hips and lifted hers, aligning them before grabbing his hips and urging him forward. He went with her guidance and panted as he slid into her. He went down on his elbows so his face was next to hers and she lifted her legs to wrap around his back.

Her wings were going to kill her in the morning, but she didn't care when he began to move. She lifted her hips to meet his thrusts and closed her eyes because his face was distracting. She shifted until every stroke inside her was hitting a spot that sparked white in her mind, and began to lose herself in passion. She realized her voice was making some kind of sound, and Diaval suddenly jerked above her, losing the rhythm. He hissed and she realized she had clawed his shoulder blades.

"Sorry," she gasped, but the sight of his wince of mixed pleasure and pain sent guilty schadenfreude worming its way into her mind and ratcheting up her need. But she had no permission to inflict such pain, so to avoid hurting him further, she grabbed the blankets by her head instead, using it as leverage to buck against him again.

That tore a groan from him and he closed his eyes and resumed with enthusiasm. Now she was riveted to his face, the creased brow, the flushed skin, the sweat beading at his temple, his breath in her face. She was riding the wave of ecstasy building from her core when he suddenly looked at her from centimeters away, and she could see the world in his eyes. She came, back arching and her legs tightening around him so he could no longer move as her muscles shuddered around him and her breath caught in her throat. White starbursts bloomed across her vision before she collapsed heavily back onto her wings, which protested with a fresh ache.

She couldn't be bothered to care about that, now, though, because Diaval had completely sunk into instinct again and his thrusts were speeding up even more. She tensed her body back up to meet him and he moaned again, slamming into her. Her oversensitized body leapt back into alertness and began building on another wave, so much easier to get to on the heels of the first, when he came too, a shuddering moan escaping him as he watched her face. It was beautiful, and she wanted it again and again. And her body wasn't quite done, so she gripped his waist with her legs again and rode him from below.

His desperate gasps in her ear where he was hanging his head sent her over the edge again, and she seized him with her legs as her second orgasm shook her. When it was done a pink fog had taken over her mind and she relaxed back into the bed, both of them breathing hard. He was warm, heavy, and sticky with sweat above her, his chin on her shoulder. He was still mostly hard inside her. She felt them breathe together.

He pulled his face back, snorting and shaking his head. "Your hair," he said, and pulled some off of his face. She leaned up, a little embarrassed, and swept her hair all to one side away from his face. He sighed gustily and flopped back down against her.

She enjoyed his warmth for a little longer. Then the discomfort of still being joined made her wriggle. "Come away," she insisted. He backed up off her and she sat up, her wings sending a fresh throb as they mostly fell back into place. The rush of fluid from between her legs made her grimace and she reached down to burn it away again. He touched her wrist and she looked up at him, brow knitting. What did he mean by delaying her?

"Would it be so bad?" he whispered.

Later she would picture him asking, half-stooped, naked, reaching out, an open expression on his face still red from sex, and his question ringing around her mind.

And she asked herself.

Would it be so bad?

When she had been young, she had had vague daydreams of being a mother. But she had never truly given them much credence. Once Stefan had betrayed her, all thoughts of motherhood had fled her completely. The idea had vanished under the humiliation and turmoil of her emotions. The thought had been so anathema to her that when Stefan had procreated, her first act had been to curse his child. How ironic now that that child had become hers. Hers and Diaval's. She looked at him now.

He had withdrawn his hand and was watching her the way she had watched him this morning while he struggled to assimilate the idea of making his own decisions, of truly being free.

She sat up straight and crossed her legs over the side of the bed, meeting his gaze. His eyebrows rose but he said nothing, making no attempt at modesty.

Aurora was all but grown. She needed Maleficent and Diaval, but not in the utterly dependent way she had before. Maleficent trusted Diaval-and herself, for that matter, to do what needed to be done for a child. More than what needed to be done.

She pictured a little bundle, with a round face and stubby horns and tiny hands.

And pin feathers of jet black.

Her gaze sharpened on his face. She wanted it, that connection with him. She wanted to meet the child they could have, to know it.

There was no guarantee it would happen, of course. Even if she were sure her body, and his, could do it, she had no idea if a great faerie of the Moors could have a child with a shapeshifted magical raven.

But she could find out.

"No," she murmured finally. He slumped a little, thinking she had rejected him, when really she had answered his question. She stood and crossed the few steps to him, hugging him around his shoulders and looking up into his face. He raised his eyebrows.

"It would not be so bad," she clarified, and he broke out in a relieved smile. "It would be beautiful," she continued, and his eyes became hooded with desire again. "It would be something new."

End.

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