Chapter Text
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, wish I did, etc.
Maleficent took in a deep breath. She stood alone on one of the mighty branches of the tree she called her home, the crisp morning breeze ruffling her newly reclaimed wings. It was the most wonderful feeling she knew, and her chest expanded with power, her wings flexing back over her head.
“They suit you,” a voice said gently, and she turned to find that a dark haired man had materialized in the brush behind her. He smiled crookedly, and she brushed her long hair over her shoulder.
“Of course they do. They’ve been mine all along. We were just apart.” She stroked one of the immense tawny limbs, gazing off into the distance. It had been a long seventeen years without her beautiful wings. Diaval moved closer, letting his dark eyes sweep down the enormous feathered extensions of his Mistress’ spirit and body. She noticed his gaze, and cuffed him playfully over the back of the head with a wingtip. He rubbed the offended area, smiling lopsidedly. He always seemed to be unable to perform the human expression quite correctly.
“They’re beautiful,” he commented, and she drew them back proudly. He was in earnest, which made her feel strangely uncomfortable with his praise. She knew how to respond to sarcasm and teasing, but sincerity?
“Thank you.”
“But there’s a bit of matting here,” he pointed out, making one of his birdlike hopping motions around her and gesturing to a spot she could hardly see, much less reach. She extended her wings to their full, glorious span, and Diaval moved into their protective shade.
“They haven’t exactly been taken care of,” she murmured quietly, and he looked at her with an oddly measured expression.
“I’ll help you groom them,” he offered, and she raised an eyebrow at her manservant of many years. He flushed slightly, and several nervous feathers sprouted along his hands and arms. “As a bird, I believe I’d be the most qualified.” She settled down crosslegged on the branch, presenting her wings to him to be cleaned. When he didn’t move, she glanced over her shoulder, brilliant eyes playful.
“Well? They’re not going to groom themselves,” she heckled, ruffling her sienna feathers, and Diaval crouched down behind her. He brushed his fingers through the silky feathers, combing out the dust and matted sweat, and coaxing out singed and scorched plumes with deft hands. She sighed softly, letting her eyes fall closed.
“You must be quite a sensation with the female ravens,” she teased, and he chuckled.
“Oh no, Mistress, I’m quite the loner.”
“There’s no one who’s caught your eye?” He met her gaze for only a moment before looking down.
“No, Mistress.”
Maleficent shook her feathers out disdainfully. “You needn’t call me that any longer, Diaval. I’ve told you, you’re not my servant.”
Diaval drew back. “Of course. I’m sorry.” She turned at the stricken tone in her dear friend’s voice. He looked so sad, and she tut-tutted at him.
“Now Diaval, why the long face?” She waved a slender hand, and with a sprinkling of gold the man’s face elongated into that of a dreadfully sad looking horse. He whinnied indignantly, shaking himself and changing back to his human form. Maleficent laughed, and he scowled affrontedly.
“I thought we’d decided I would be responsible for my own transformations!”
“I couldn’t help myself, dear.” He huffed and turned into a raven with a puff of dark smoke, landing on her shoulder and pecking petulantly at her horns. She waved him off, shooing him away with a flap of her great wings. “You’re a petty bird,” she crooned teasingly, and he rested his small warm head against her cheek, snuggled beneath the waves of her hair. She stroked his gleaming feathers, smiling at their brightness. “You must tell me how you make your feathers shine so. Mine look a bit sad after being in a cage for so long.”
Diaval changed form so quickly the transformation was incomplete, his anxious face still flecked with feathers and his sleek hair standing up in a plume. “No, they’re perfect!” he assured her, and she gave him a long, measured look. Then she drew the raven closer, smoothing his hair with her hands and a small dusting of magic.
“You’re a kind friend, Diaval. Kinder than I deserve,” she told him softly, and he caught her hands before she could release him fully.
“No. You deserve...everything,” he said earnestly, seemingly at a loss for what exactly he believed she deserved and settling for the broadest thing he could imagine. She was startled by his vehement response, as her manservant was usually soft spoken.
“I mean--not everything. You deserve a happy and peaceful life surrounded by beautiful things and people who love you. You’ve been through so much, and so much of it was wrong. You deserve better than me, better than anyone can give you.”
It all came out in a rush, and once it had the Raven seemed alarmed by his confession, for he backed away hurriedly, trying to gather himself enough to transform and fly away, but Maleficent caught his dark coat sleeve and held him fast.
“Diaval?”
Her tone was stern, and he turned towards her obediently.
“Yes Mistress?” She sighed, tucking a strand of dark hair out of his face.
“I am not your Mistress. But I would beseech you to answer me honestly when I ask you this. Is there something you need to tell me?” Distressed feathers sprang back into his hair and along his fingers, and she soothed them away gently.
“I-I...I would like to be one of them,” he managed, and she waited expectantly for him to continue. “One of...the people. I would like to stay by your side, if you’ll have me.”
“You silly bird,” she chided, which made him start, “where else would I let you go? Manservant or not, I wouldn’t last a day without you.” His plumage ruffled, and he turned a pleased and embarrassed shade of maroon. She laughed and drew him to her side, embracing him.
“You seem surprised.”
“I am...glad to be needed,” he admitted, and she tucked his head into the hollow of her neck, stroking his hair.
“Oh my Diaval. Surely you don’t believe I could ever not need you.” He breathed softly against her skin, the silence of the early morning shrouding them in stillness.
"I'll always need you."
"Is that a promise?"
She folded her wings around him in a warm, feathery embrace.
"It is."
"I suppose I'll stick around until you get tired of me then, Mistress,” he murmured.
“That is quite unlikely to happen, you know.”
“Why?”
“Oh...something about birds of a feather and all that.”
Diaval laughed, stroking the silky wings encasing them. “Flock together?”
She kissed his pale brow. “And stay together.”