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Cotton clouds reflected shades of magenta, fuscia, and tiger orange. The grass blades bowed at the passage of the winds, touched mulberry and wine by the fascinating palette painted in the sky by the setting sun. Ash, oak, rowan, and birch trunks drowned in either indigo shadows or colored to the burning star’s whims. Sunlight threaded among ancient trees like a reckless and playful child of the forest, giggling as if her path promised nothing but excitement and magic.
Her orbs flashed their fire gleam as she studied in silence the majesty of the Moors. Leaves crunched beneath her feet, her staff touching the soil and marking her steps, the skirts of her dress rustling as it brushed foliage. An incessant humming from behind her, her companion’s voice vibrating in the air with words she missed but absorbed the timber whose familiarity kept her heart in its tranquil rhythm.
“Something is bothering you.”
Maleficent halted, freezing in place. Her eyebrows raised and she glanced over her shoulder, found the raven studying her with the corner of his lip up. His gentle onyx eyes earning an inner beam from her.
She would have had to ask him to repeat himself, had he not silenced after his last sentence and burst the peace bubble her mind had enveloped them in.
“Bothering me?” the fae echoed. Orbs wandering to the clay brown ground with its smoke grey stone peeking from it like the undead.
Diaval shifted his weight between his legs, he held his hands together behind him. Tipping his head, his smile grew. “Yes,” he said, “you don’t normally pay me much mind when I’m rambling, but… Well, you’ve missed more than one chance to mock me and I’m starting to become concerned about you, Mistress.”
Her gaze darted to him, she smirked, narrowing her eyes at him. “Can’t go a minute without attention, can you, bird?”
The raven beamed, taking a step or two towards her. He wouldn’t drop his searching of her features, lingering on her shapes with no intention of hiding his actions. “Tell me what’s wrong?” Shrugged. “We might find I can be of use,” he said.
Maleficent caught her bottom lip under her fangs, glancing at his face with a restrained beam. Inside her chest it was quiet, no hustle in sight, no danger lurking at the corners. She wondered how much of such peace could be attributed to Diaval’s company alone. Spirits knew she appreciated him more than she let on.
The faerie sighed, lowered her gaze to the grass, her hands united on her staff. “I believe we’re getting old, bird.”
Creases etched the shapeshifter’s features when he furrowed his brow. “Wouldn’t think age to be a concern of yours,” he said. “You’re a faerie, your kind lives long lives. And while I am a regular raven, Mistress, I doubt your magic allowed me to age enough to be a matter of concern.”
She watched him. “Aurora has brought her second child into the world, the dark fey have their arrangements set at the Moors,” she lifted her shoulders. “We’re old news, Diaval.”
His countenance eased, a smile spreading through his mouth. “Bored, are you? There’s no need to worry, you know? Won’t be long until either Ulstead or the Moors need our council. And you’re still the guardian of this land,” shrugged, “I’m still your loyal servant.”
“My free servant,” she pointed.
His mouth tugged to the side. “You know there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, Mistress. Could it be that you’re missing your fledgling?” he allowed his words time to exist and be absorbed. “Aurora keeps on growing, finding her way and needing us less and less with time. It’s okay to feel it and be affected by it.”
She scanned him, head to toe. Lifted her chin and stared at his face. “Humans insist ravens are wise birds. I see you try to perpetuate these notions, but what could you possibly know of it, bird?”
A mocking flash on his features, a dramatic hand shooting to cover his heart. “You wound me, Mistress. Have I not spent years at your side, caring for darling Aurora?”
The corners of her mouth ease into a beam, her eyes shine. “That you did. Proved a better caretaker than the three gnats appointed to the poor child.”
He assented. “Now add to that seeing my mistress have her wings returned to her, seeing her kind rejoin her.” A weak smile. “Over and over I wondered what was the purpose of me. You have your wings, you have no need of spies, you have the company of others like you.”
Maleficent frowned, turning her form to face his. “You’re still a friend,” she said, caught a fleeting flash in his countenance before a wider, tight grin replaced it. “I freed you because your debt was paid, not because I had no need of you anymore.” Her head tipped. “There’s no need to remind you that your company is appreciated. Aurora likes you very much.” She spun, heading off.
Diaval exhaled, followed her steps in large strides. “I appreciate your company too, Mistress.”
Her shoulders rigid, the ceasing of the rustling of the grass blades against her skirt. She glanced over her shoulder, ruby lips against one another, furrowed as words failed her. Her gaze sank, figure slumped. She wet it, opened her mouth.
“And, if the new duties aren’t enough, you know you can always have fledglings, right?”
Eyes widening, she faced him. “Another?”
He shrugged. “The dark fey have them. Longer lives than humans, fangs, horns, talons… And you took Aurora in, there could be others in need of a ‘fairy godmother’.”
“You mean that,” she voiced, brow creased.
“I didn’t think anything kept you from it,” Diaval said.
Maleficent squeezed her staff between her palms. “And you assume there are candidates to father such a clutch.”
The raven held her gaze. “We both know there are,” his words quiet enough for her to shift on her feet. “You’re the Phoenix,” he said, “from what I understand, the dark fey have great respect for such a lineage and would love to see it continued.”
“ And? ”
Onyx on chartreuse. Her inquiry deterring time itself. Passing birds chirped, flying off for the evening.
The bobbing of his Adam’s apple. “ And ?” his words hoarse, faint.
Maleficent regarded him, paced to stop before him. “Yes. ‘ And ’.”
“There’s something you wish me to say,” almost a question.
“There’s something you want to say,” not a beat missed. She tilted her head, searching his face. “You swore,” she said, “‘anything I need’. How far would you take it, Diaval?”
He blinked, watched her. “My debt has been paid, you know how far I’d go.”
“Yes,” she said, “your life. You risked it time and time again for Aurora, and for me.” She wet her lips. “But it doesn’t answer the question. How far, raven?”
Diaval gulped, disappeared between his eyes. “Far enough.”
“And if I asked you to–”
“Yes.”
Maleficent observed him. “You’d father my fledglings if I asked that of you.” an arched eyebrow. Not searching for an answer, prying for confirmation. “You’d want that?”
“You’re perfectly capable of raising fledglings on your own,” he said, “But yes. I’d father them. Care for them as I did with Aurora.”
“A raven. Tying itself to another, for life. I’m not a raven, Diaval.”
“And I’m not human man. What would it matter?” He shrugged. “Nowhere I’d rather be and, truthfully, Mistress, we have an unkindness here. A human, a faerie, and a raven. The strangest unkindness but no less true because of it,” he nodded. “Yes, I’d father further fledglings of ours. And I doubt I’d choose anyone else to do it with.”
Her heart slammed, eyes wide.
Diaval smiled, walked past his mistress, continuing through the Moors, to the rowan tree.
Maleficent blinked, form easing with the minutes. She peeked over her shoulder to the raven. Followed him through the forest, back to their nest.