Call me K

22 | Writing the stuff I wanna read REQUESTS OPEN

[tyranicaldeity]

HELLO THERE

Made this account bc after 7 years of not writing fan fiction I’ve come back to it bc dear god there’s a big lack of Diaval x reader fics from the Maleficent movie, and also there’s other characters I wanna write for too so yeah…

Characters I write for! (will be updated as i continue to get back into writing!):

Diaval (Maleficent 2014)

Legolas (LOTR)

10th Doctor (Doctor Who)

[endortbc]

This is based on the idea that for both Dwarves and Elves, braiding has a special meaning, and it is something shared between those who love and trust each other.

I imagine they got married soon after the war. Later, Legolas moved to Ithilien and Gimli to Aglarond, but they found ways to get together. This is when they got a chance to reunite and braided each other’s hair.

Kindred.

[sharts-of-narsil]

[mountkennedie]

Bird Bound

Diaval x reader

Summary: Maleficent used a lot of magic recently and has been sleeping for a few days. Before she laid down though, she forgot to turn Diaval into a man.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1k

A.N. Every time I indent a paragraph, Tumblr undoes it. I give up. And if you understand the references that I make with character names, I love you.

You had places to be this morning. You had a strong hankering for honeyed biscuits, and nothing was going to get in your way. Once dressed, you headed out.

The sun was warm on your face as you opened the door. The smell of fresh air filled your lungs. However, the smell did not satisfy them. The only scent you wanted was the smell of the biscuits. Neighboring fae would have thought your stomach was touching your back, for the speed you displayed heading to the bakery. By 'bakery' it was really just your nice friend. Mrs. Langtree made the best biscuits known to this side of the Moors.

"Good morning! Why the rush, Y/n?" A water nymph said. You almost didn't hear her, at first.

"Good morning, Nicey," you smiled back.

"Looking for Diaval I expect," Mrs. Treetrunks grumbled. She wasn't a bitter mud fae. Just an old one. And by the looks of it, her mud wasn't smooth enough for her taste.

"Actually," you announce to the both of them, "I am headed to breakfast." You looked at Mrs. Treetrunks as you spoke. Then turned to Nicey and whispered, "Where I am sure Diaval will join me," you say with a smirk. You begin walking again as you both giggle.

"Tell him I said, hello. And to pass on my message!" You didn't understand what the last part of what she said meant.

"Will due!"

~

Once you arrive at Mrs. Langtree's home, you knocked gently on the door. She opened it with her usual warm smile. "Oh, hello dear, do come in!"

You had to bend a bit at the waist to fit through the doorway, but once through, you quickly found a seat. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Now let me guess why you stopped by," she raises a finger to her chin in thought. "Berry muffins? Mmh no," she begins to pace in her living room. "Lemon bars? Hmm not right either," then her face lights up. "Honeyed biscuits, by chance?"

"Yes! That would be wonderful. If it isn't too much trouble."

"Child, this is my life. It, or you," she places one hand under your chin, "could ever be any trouble." She tilts your chin up and heads to her kitchen.

"Mrs. Langtree?" you ask once she is far in her pantry, "have you seen Diaval recently?" You fumbled with the hem of your dress as you spoke.

"Yes I have," how deep is her kitchen? Her voice sounded more like an echo than anything else. "I believe I saw him flying about this morning. Some shiny new gem in his claws. He has been flying quite a bit as of late, hasn't he?"

"Indeed, he has. I wonder what duties he has been given to keep him so busy." You attempt to hide your unhappiness in your voice but still fail.

"Surely he has still come to see you?" You heard pots and pans fall to the ground. "I'm quite alright!"

You grimaced at the sound but continued speaking. "He has not. I worry at times at what he could be doing to not have any time to see me." Right as you were done speaking, you heard rattling at Mrs. Langtree's living room window. Looking over at the sound, you saw the one and only.

"Come in, dear," Mrs. Langtree calls from the pantry. Diaval pushes the window inward with his beak and flies in. He hovers in front of you for a moment until you hold your arm out for him to land on. He holds your favorite flower in his beak and tilts his raven head upward for you to take it.

"Where have you been?" You ask in a quieter voice than the one you used to speak to Mrs. Langtree. He opened his beak but then closed it. He clearly wanted to speak but was not in the right body to do so. "Where's Maleficent?" He only shook his head in response. "She left?"

He jumped and shook his head again. He shifted his claws up your forearm and rested his head on your bicep. His shut his eyes and took deep breaths. "Sleeping?" He nodded. "Oh, makes sense. She used a lot of power to arrange and protect Aurora's wedding.

He nods again. He flies up to rest on you shoulder and rubs his head against yours. it always makes you laugh when he does this. For someone who hates cats... he sure does act like one. Just then, Mrs. Langtree comes out with two plates. One has biscuits with a fresh glaze of honey, and on the other is full of peanuts with the shells on.

Diaval excitedly snaps his beak at the plate. "Now where have you been?" Mrs. Treetrunks chides. "You had your beautiful girl worried sick!" He sheepishly tries to hide in your hair. "Eat your breakfast," she points at you both, "the both of you."

~

There were still two more days until Maleficent woke up. And in that time, you felt just like her. Having a large raven resting on your shoulder most of the time took a while to get used to. But it was doable. You had made it clear that you always wanted him around, no matter his form. And in return, you now have a long-term shadow.

He only left your side to prepare Maleficent for when she wakes. And unbeknownst to you, he also took that time to find flowers and shiny things he thought you would enjoy.

By the time he was turned back into a human, you shined in all types of treasures. Everything that Diaval could carry that glimmered, you wore. And when he saw you that morning in the sun, all he could do was stare.

"Good morning, my love. It's nice to see you in this form," you closed your door and walked over and took his hands. He looked at you like you were the answers to all of life's questions. The love in eyes was palpable and there was a faint blush growing on his cheeks.

He raises a hand and rests it on your cheek. "You are so beautiful." You smile and take a step forward. When your lips connect, he allows himself to fall into the kiss. With a sigh he deepens it. You both move back to your doorstep, and then back into your home.

[goldenatreides]

˗ˏˋ silver steam ˎˊ˗

➤ legolas masterlist ➤ requests ➤ fandoms masterlist

꒰ pairing [legolas x reader] no use of y/n ꒱

꒰ wc: 3.7k ꒱

꒰ summary: “Three paces,” he mumbles against your skin, shaking his head slightly as if trying to clear a fog. “Every morning on the terrace. Every patrol. You walk behind me. Always…always behind me. Never beside me. I have spent a lifetime staring at the slant of your shoulder, wondering…absolute madness…wondering why I was not allowed to turn around.” For seventy years, military duty kept you safely frozen in his shadow. But tonight, the Dorwinion wine runs freely, the steam is scalding, and Legolas is absolutely through with the distance. ꒱

꒰ content: NSFW - MDNI, Dorwinion wine, drunk sex, power dynamics, biting, bath sex, fluff, vocal legolas, slight possessive behaviour ꒱

꒰ a/n: if you are wondering yes this is inspired by THAT scene in pursuit of jade ꒱

ᯓ★ read on ao3 or below the cut

The heavy oak deadbolt slides into place with a metallic thud, locking the roaring chaos of the Midsummer Feast on the other side. In the echoing quiet of Legolas’ private chambers, the air is already thick with the humid steam of the sunken marble bath – drawn hours ago by the palace staff and kept scalding by the hearth hidden beneath the carved floor. 

You do not lose a second. You turn to the attendants adjusting the linen towels by the basin. 

“Leave us,” you command, your voice carrying the crisp  authority of a lieutenant. “The Prince requires no further assistance tonight. Clear the chambers by the rear stairwell.” 

The servants bow quickly, keeping their eyes lowered. They slip out through the side corridor before they could look too closely at the heir of their realm, who leans his shoulder heavily against a carved stone pillar, his eyes glassy and dark. 

Once the tapestry settles behind them, you stride to the edge of the steaming bath, grab a handful of dried, crushed mint and winter-bark from a silver vanity and toss it into the water. The water hisses, the sharp scent of the woods blooming in the air, cutting through the cloyingly sweet stench of Dorwinion grapes clinging to his skin.

A frustrated grunt echoes from the stone pillar. 

You look back. Legolas curses under his breath in fragmented Sindarin, his usually lithe fingers tugging blindly at the reinforced bracer on his left forearm. He succeeds in only tightening the knot, his jaw clenching in irritation at his own sluggish movements. He yanks at it again, his heavy riding boots dragging on the rug as he sways. He glares down at them, and kicks them off his feet, swaying backwards dangerously. 

“Legolas, stop,” you murmur, stepping away from the bath and crossing the stone floor into his space. “You are only making it worse. Let me.”

“The laces are… knotted,” he rasps. He does not yield the arm immediately, stubbornly trying to force the leather over his hand. “The eyelets will not align. The room keeps shifting.”

“The room is perfectly still,” you say, catching his wrists to force his fumbling hands away from the leather. “It is your head that is spinning. Stand straight.” 

The moment your fingers clamp onto his wrist, the radiating heat of his body hits you like a wall. Legolas stops fighting the leather. His hands go slack, and his dark, dilated gaze snaps down to focus on your face. 

You drop your eyes to his forearm, deliberately avoiding his stare. Your fingers work the stubborn leather laces of his bracers, untangling the knot with the practiced efficiency of seventy years of duty. 

“You drank half the private stores of Dorwinion,” you mutter, your voice hushed but frantic as you strip away the first leather guard, letting it fall to the floor. “If your father had looked to the right during the toast — if he had seen the way you were holding your chalice—”

“He was looking at the lords of Mithlond,” Legolas interrupts softly. He did not sound like a prince right now, but as someone dazed and dangerously unbothered. “He did not see me. No one saw me.”

“I saw you,” you snap, your fingers moving to the silver buckles of his doublet, your knuckles inadvertently brushing against the linen of his shirt underneath. “The entire vanguard line saw you. You were staring across the hall like a madman.”

“I was looking at my shadow,” he murmurs. 

Your fingers falter on the second buckle. You keep your eyes trained rigidly on his collar, your heart hitting a sudden and erratic thud against your ribs. “Do not talk nonsense, Commander. Undo your shoulder guards.”

“I cannot,” he whispers, and there is a strange trace of a laugh in his chest. He does not lift his arms to help. Instead, before you can step back, his large hands come down, his palms anchoring firmly onto the sides of your waist. “I told you. The floor is moving like river-boats. If I let go of you, I will fall.”

Your breath hitches, your spine freezing as his thumbs press through the stiff fabric of your uniform, holding you flush in his space. 

“Legolas, remove your hands,” you whisper, the strict military mask faltering, revealing the desperate panic underneath. “We are in your chambers, but I am still on duty. Let go.”

He leans down, his face dropping into the crook of your neck, his wine-sweet breath fanning across your collarbone as he lets out a heavy sigh. 

“The deadbolt is thick,” he slurs against your skin, his grip tightening on your waist until it is almost bruising. “The uniform is off…the court is gone. Let me hold you until the room stops spinning.”

The warmth of his breath against your neck sends a traitorous shiver straight down your spine. For a second, your hands hover uselessly over the remaining silver buckles of his doublet, your knuckles trembling against his chest. The scent of the mint and winter-bark steam envelops you both like a shroud, your skin tingling in the mist. You tug at the buckles once more, and the shoulder guards and doublet tumble onto the floor, forgotten. 

You have to get him in the water. You have to sober him up before your own resolve disintegrates entirely.

“Legolas, lean back. Walk with me,” you say, your voice clipped. You wrap your arms around his torso, trying to bear his dead weight as you force your feet to take slow, dragging steps backwards toward the edge of the sunken bath. “Three steps. Just three steps and you can sit.” 

“Too many steps,” he mutters against your skin, his voice a mere lazy vibration. He barely lifts his feet, simply letting you drag him, his fingers tightly hooked into the leather at your waist, entirely refusing to yield an inch of the proximity. “Why are we…why are we walking?”

“Because you are going to ruin us both if you collapse on the stone,” you breathe, your heel finally finding the smooth lip of the marble. “Sit down, Legolas. Let go of my waist and sit—”

He did not let go.

Instead of releasing you, his grip tightens. His boot catches on the raised trim of the marble basin, his already compromised balance giving way as his larger frame tilts forward into the steam. 

You don’t even have time to gasp. With his hands clasped firmly around your hips, he pulls you straight down with him. The world inverts in a deafening explosion of white foam and scalding water. 

The pool swallows you both whole. For a suffocating, disorienting moment, you are submerged in churning heat, the dark grape of the wine and sharp sting of the crushed mint flooding your senses. The heavy wool of your lieutenant’s uniform and thick leather of your boots instantly turn to lead, holding you down. 

A moment later, your head breaks the surface. You gasp for air, coughing as you push your soaked bangs out of your eyes. The silver steam of the bath rises in thick clouds from the disturbance. You jam your toe against your heel, aggressively kicking the heavy leather off your feet and letting the boots sink into the shadow of the basin. 

Legolas rises beside you, the water cascading off his broad shoulders in a torrential sheet. His intricate warrior braids completely unravel, the long blonde silk of his hair plastered against his chest and neck. He looks beautifully unhinged, water dripping from his jaw as he blinks through the fog, a slow, dazed smile spreading across his face. 

“What did you do?” you hiss, panic finally breaking through your defenses like a flash of ice water. You lunge forward, your soaked leather gloves slapping against his slick shoulders as you try to push away from him. “Legolas! Look at my gear. Look at what you’ve done!” 

“The uniform…” he slurs, a laugh bubbling in his chest as he sways in the water. He does not move back. “It is too stiff anyway. Always…always so stiff.”

“This is not a joke,” you rasp, your chest heaving as you fight the dragging weight of your wet tunic, eyes darting frantically towards the bolted door. You unbuckle your own shoulder guards and doublet, squirming against his grip. You toss the waterlogged leather out of the bath, peeling your gloves off along with it. The linen of your undershirt clings to your upper body like a second skin, and you don’t miss how his half-moon eyes wander down, pupils blown wide as he meets your gaze again. “If the guards heard that splash—if anyone comes through that door, it is my sword they will take. It is my name they will ruin. I will be stripped of my rank and exiled before the sun hits the gates.”

The word exile did not sober him. It seemed to strike his dizzy brain like a physical blow, turning his lazy drunken smile into a look of frantic terror. 

He shakes his head, his wet hair spraying droplets across your face. His grip on your waist tightens, with a force which surely leaves bruises blooming in its wake. His large palms drag you through the water until your chest slams against his. He stumbles and wades forward, his feet slipping on the marble before he pins your shoulder blades flat against the slick wall of the bath. 

“No,” he whispers, voice cracking, thick with wine and desperation. He leans down, forehead pressing to yours, his breath hot and rapid against your lips. “No, no. No one… no one can take you. I will not let them.” His lips are but a hair’s breadth away, flushed and stained with wine. “I will throw the swords into the river. I will lock the gates.” 

“Legolas, you are out of your mind,” you whisper, hands pressing flat against his chest to try and put some space between your faces. “You are entirely drunk. Look at me, you don’t even know what you are saying. Tomorrow you will—”

“I know what I am saying,” he interrupts, voice ragged. His hands slide up from your waist, fumbling blindly until they cup your jaw, fingers threading into the hair at the back of your head. You hiss slightly from the tension at the roots. His breath is heavy, his eyes — once a reflective, royal blue — stare into yours, dark and dilated, with an intensity you do not recognise.

"I know your steps. Seventy winters... seventy winters I have been counting them." He lets out a low, miserable sound, half a laugh and half a sob, letting his head drop to rest in the crook of your neck. 

“Three paces,” he mumbles against your skin, shaking his head slightly as if trying to clear a fog. “Every morning on the terrace. Every patrol. You walk behind me. Always…always behind me. Never beside me. I have spent a lifetime staring at the slant of your shoulder, wondering…absolute madness…wondering why I was not allowed to turn around.”

“Commander, please—”

“Do not,” he chokes out, his thumb dragging clumsily along your wet cheekbone, a burning trail left in its wake. He lifts his head to look at you again. “Do not call me that. Not here.” He swallows hard. “The water is… it is too hot. You are burning up. Or am I?”

He blinks heavily, his hands tremblings where they hold your face. The heat of the water and the swirling steam seems to blur his mind entirely. 

“It is like the cave,” he slurs, his voice softer and far away. "The northern pass... the ice cavern. We sat in the dark for three days. It was so cold, the air was turning to frost. My skin was freezing. But here... right here..." He drags his hand down from your face, grabbing your palm, pressing it against his chest. His heartbeat gallops; an erratic thud threatening to escape from his chest. Your own matches his. "I was on fire because your head was against my chest. I had to turn myself to stone. I had to freeze my own blood so I would not…not turn around and ruin us both in the dark." 

A droplet of water slides down his cheek, catching the dim candle glow of the room. He leans in closer, until his lips brush the shell of your ear as he whispers, composure undone by the decades of silent pining. 

“Look at the water now,” he says, each word fueling a glowing, consuming heat in your bones. “We are not freezing anymore. Let me burn. Let me burn alive…just do not make me go back to the ice. Do not go three paces away from me again.”

His lips find yours, blazing and urgent, and the hand that cupped your jaw slides to the back of your neck, angling your face, breaking down every barrier you built up, every military protocol that you seared into your mind for decades. 

He pulls back, breathless and desperate, panting against your mouth. “I will not let them take you from me,” he says, voice husky and raw. 

Damn the military protocols. 

Damn the rules of the court. 

Damn the fabric that separates you. 

You pull him back in, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and kiss him back, feverish and hungry. He groans against your lips as his arms wrap around you under the water, forearms locking around your back and pulling your chest flush with his. You melt into the kiss, the ghost of Dorwinion grapes dancing on your tongue, the heat of his body blazing against you in the water. 

He trails open-mouthed kisses along your jaw as a hand slides under your shirt and along your ribs, cupping your chest. You gasp as he continues down your neck, tongue languid and warm, kissing and nipping at the sensitive area above your collarbone, peppering marks that scatter across your skin like a constellation only he could bear witness to. 

“I need you closer,” he breathes into your neck, gossamer strands of his wet hair falling across your shoulder . 

The hot water made the fabric of your shirts entirely translucent, clinging to his broad chest and your skin like a futile attempt at modesty. His large hands hook onto the open collar of your wet shirt, his fingers clumsily tugging it up. You lift your arms to help him slide it off, baring your skin to the humid air. You reach for the hem of his sodden shirt, bundling the translucent linen and pulling it over his head, letting the wet cloth drift away into the dark water of the pool. 

When he straightens back up, you are both bare from the waist up, his torso radiating an unnatural, consuming heat that you wanted, needed, to feel against you. 

But the waterlogged wool of your trousers remains a frustrating barrier between your hips, blocking the very warmth you are starving for. Legolas feels it too; a low, frustrated groan leaves his lips as his hands dive beneath the churning surface, his thumbs dragging against your hip bones as he tries to pull the heavy fabric. His unsteady balance sways, his bare feet slipping slightly on the smooth floor of the pool. 

"Help me," he mumbles against your jaw, his grip uncoordinated but fiercely possessive as he clings to you. 

You catch his bare shoulders to steady him, guiding his warrior’s frame backward a half step as he sinks heavily onto the submerged marble bench behind him. Standing right between his knees, you lean down into the swirling mint-scented water, fingers finding his belt. There is no neat protocol to it — just a breathless urgency as you unbuckle the leather and peel the heavy wool down his muscular thighs. The water’s buoyancy carries the dead weight away effortlessly, and he kicks the trousers into the dark depths of the pool before his hands find your waist again. His touch is an impatient and demanding weight as you undo your own fastenings, sliding the last of the lieutenant’s uniform down your legs and letting it float away. 

When you slide back towards him, there is nothing left between you.

Legolas lets out a low sigh of relief, his bare thighs instantly locking around your hips beneath the surface, hauling you flush onto his lap. He is a furnace, his large hands cup the back of your thighs, anchoring you securely against him, pulling you impossibly closer. You run your hands up his smooth chest to his shoulders, rising and falling with heavy breaths. 

He does not move yet; he just holds you there, his chest heaving against yours, midnight-dark eyes blinking through the silver steam as if trying to memorize the feeling of your bare skin under the water. 

“Tell me I am not dreaming this,” he rasps, his voice wine-sweet against your lips. “Tell me I will not wake up on the terrace tomorrow with three paces between us.” He gazes up at you through thick lashes, droplets glistening on them as if on a silken web. The glow from the candles dances across his porcelain face, his cheeks flushed and lips swollen, and even now you think that he looks as if carved from pure starlight. 

“This is real,” you breathe, gently brushing his sharp jaw with your thumb. He shivers at your caress, eyes fluttering shut. “I am here, Legolas.” 

You lean down and his mouth finds yours again — no longer just a clumsy, drunken spill of words; it is a burning surrender to the fire you had both been running from for seventy years. Your hands slide up to lock behind his neck, your fingers tangling in the damp silk of his unraveled braids, as you sink onto his length, your mind going blank to all else but the feeling of him inside you. Legolas lets out a fractured groan, a sound that sends heat right to your core as it echoes off the damp tiled walls. 

The hot water laps at your chest as you move, the friction of your bare skin meeting under the water electrifying you, sending waves of pleasure coiling in your abdomen. You welcome the searing stretch as you take him, all of him; you welcome the burning of your thighs as you ride him in the churning water. 

Legolas shivers against you, moaning under his breath, a full-body tremor that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. He slumps forward slightly, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as his breathing goes ragged and fast. His lithe hands slide up from your thighs to your waist under the water, his thumbs pressing hard into your hipbones, fingernails leaving crescent imprints into your flushed skin. He anchors you to his lap so tightly that every frantic thud of his heart beats against your own ribs, every movement of his hips meets yours. 

“Mine,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck, lips brushing your hot skin, sending a jolt of raging fire down your spine. He lets out a desperate groan, a broken mutter of hushed Sindarin, an unraveled confession he would never dare utter in the light. “My lieutenant, my shadow, my…you are mine. I will not let you go.”

"Yours," you promise him, tilting your head to give him better access, your own restraint completely melting into the steam. "Always yours." 

“They think I am a prince…” His grip tightens on your waist, the pace of his hips bruising and possessive, chasing his high. “But I am a beggar.” He bites your neck, teeth dragging along your skin, a moan escaping your mouth as you arch into him without thought. “I have been begging for…for a single glance from you for seventy winters. I have been starved of you.”

White hot pleasure rolls through your veins as you find your release, your arms going weak around his shoulders. His arms tighten around you, drawing you in flush against him, his own hips stuttering against yours as you feel his abdomen tighten. With a final groan you feel him tense against you, head buried in the crook of your neck, blonde hair draped over your shoulders like a gossamer curtain. 

After a long moment, Legolas tilts his head back against the marble rim of the pool, eyes fluttering shut. The frantic storm of his desperation has finally quieted, leaving only the gentle rise and fall of his bare chest against yours. Around you, the steam has begun to thin, and the amber glow of the candles on the vanity flicker out one by one, leaving the chamber bathed in the velvet dark of the moon and stars. 

The scalding water lost its edge long ago, turning soothing and cooling against your ribs, but Legolas does not budge beneath you. His hands are still hooked securely around your waist, his grip looser, softened by the deep pull of sleep, but no less unyielding. Every time you try to shift, to ease the weight on his thighs, his fingers tighten and pull you back flush against his sternum. 

“Legolas,” you whisper into the quiet room. “The fire in the hearth has died out. The water is getting cold. We have to get out.”

A hum reverberates deep in his chest. He does not open his eyes, but his head slides down to tuck over the crown of your head. 

“Stay,” he murmurs, his voice honeyed and sweet. “The water does not matter. I am warm. I have you.”

He lets out a sigh, his thumb moving in slow, rhythmic circles against your hip underwater, a tactile promise that he is not letting the distance return. 

“No more three paces,” he whispers into the dark, his voice growing closer to the hazy edge of dreams. “Tomorrow…you walk beside me. I am so tired of looking for you behind me. Walk beside me.”

He presses his lips to your temple, a soft and sacred vow. In the silver dark of the chamber you close your eyes, resting your forehead against his collarbone and listening to the steady beat of his heart. No longer erratic, no longer cold, but entirely and forevermore yours. 

taglist: @meg11 @ninaaazz @entishramblings want to be notified when my new writing drops? turn on post notifications for @goldenatreides-notifs 💌🫶 or ask me directly!

[d-dormant]

which could mean nothing

[mountkennedie]

Mint and Maple

Diaval x reader

Summary: you went exploring in the moors one night. You are met with a strange man

warnings: none

A.N. I know this fandom is probably dead, but not to me

Life in the moors were beautiful through and through. You frequented the river most of all, the life blooming there was what you would consider the most beautiful you had ever seen. Especially when the sun had laid down for the evening.

You should be in your home long past asleep like any respectable lady. And yet here you were in the late hours of the night, out for a stroll. No one could say it was unsafe really ever in the moors. Everyone knew to respect others and so that the same respect could be shared back with them. But none were perfect, and those who distinctly stayed from the good intentions of the community were dealt with.

You had seen her before. Maleficent. However, I never approached, simply bowed, and continued on your way. Though disappointed with the prickly wall blocking your world inside the barriers of the moors, you understood their purpose. That "King" Stefan was such a danger do you all, a wall is a reasonable response.

You would sometimes wander near the wall. Never touching it, though, you had been told it was cursed if someone laid a finger on it. Most nights, you would never touch the roots. However, tonight was one you were feeling more adventurous.

The walk to the wall was a difficult one. Many trees and other plants had overgrown on the path, whispers go around that she made the overgrowth. You would counter the argument by a question, "Has anyone actually tried to tame the path?" It ended in silence.

You did make it through the tough greenery and were able to approach the wall of roots. It felt like it grew every time you looked at it. A raven flew down near you. It landed on a branch of the wall and peered at you. You thought, since the raven landed and nothing happened to it, you should be fine. And tonight, there was one branch that looked like it was begging you to reach out and feel its bark. Like anyone would, you caved.

When you reached your arm out, the raven chirped at you. But it did not stop your hand as it reached the bark of the limb. You were flung backward in a flash of green light and hit a tree behind you. The hit wasn't that hard at all, but still ripped the air out of you. After hitting the grassy floor below you, you looked up. It took a moment for you to realize the great pain your hand was in. Your eyes trailed down and saw the gash now painted on the skin.

Looking up, the raven was gone. In its place, a man approached you. He reached forward for your non-wounded hand. You placed yours in his, and he helped you back up. "All you alright, miss?"

"Yes, yes I am," you hid your hand behind your back. He didn't need to see the river of red sprouting from your palm. You bowed your head for a moment, "Thank you, sir." When you turned to leave, you felt a gentle grip on your wrist.

"You are hurt." He turned your hand up, showcasing the fresh wound. Before you could say it was nothing, he was ushering you away. "Let me bind that. You don't want it to grow infected." He led you past some brush of trees. You were trying to memorize the route, knowing you had to come back this way to return home.

"Forgive me," he began, "I haven't asked you your name."

"Call me, Y/n, and yours?"

"Diaval. Y/n is a beautiful name. It suits you."

You were led to a very strange looking tree. Its leaves were very long and curly. It emitted a strange aroma, a mix of mint and maple. The syrup running behind the bark must be very rich, you thought. The tree itself was very tall, as if it had been growing for centuries. But if it had, it makes no sense as to why you seem to be finding it now.

Diaval placed one of his hands on the bark. The tree at first remained in its place, and you wondered what the gesture was for. But then the eyes of the great oak opened and looked down at its disturber.

"Apologies for waking you, good friend. But I need your assistance." He reached for your injured hand. He showed the gash to the gentletree. The tree nodded and extended an arm full of curly leaves to Diaval. He plucked one of a branch, "Thank you."

The tree's attention came to you. You bowed your head and thanked him as well. He returned the gesture and went back to resting. Diaval turned to you and began to really inspect the gash. "Not too deep, that's good."

He took the leaf and began to wrap the would with a gentle hand. The leaf carried the same mint and maple scent of the tree, but not as strong. The smell filling your senses was really calming. After some time, you let your curiosity win. "I didn't see you when I was...um," you trailed off. You probably shouldn't bring up what you were doing at the gate.

"When you were getting too close to the wall," he finished. "Well, I have my ways of blending into the shadows." He smiled gently, so you knew he meant no real harm.

You pursed your lips before continuing. "Yes, that's good to know." You sucked in a breath, "This may sound strange and forgive me if I'm foolish, but... did you see a raven on one of the branches at the gate?"

He smiled in response, "I was aware of a raven, yes."

"Oh good! I didn't understand how it managed to rest on the branch. That was why I decided to try my luck," you chuckled a bit after finishing your confession. He finished wrapping your hand. You could already feel the healing beginning to take place underneath the bandage.

"I believe that raven has some magic capabilities. Or knows someone who does." He hadn't dropped your hand yet. His hands were warm, and you enjoyed them holding yours.

"How is that possible?" Your voice was a bit airy. The subject of magic was always something you wish to expand on. No amount of books or stories could quench your thirst for knowledge of it.

"What isn't possible here?" He responded in the same tone. You smiled at him and shook your head. He was right. The moors still surprised you, even if you've lived here your whole life.

"I should head home. I know my mother would not approve of me being out at this time." You turned to leave. His hand remained on yours. Holding you in place.

"Let me walk you," he said quickly. "I would hate for you to get lost," he said, recovered some composure. He stood next to you and offered his arm. You took him up on his offer, and you both began the walk home. When you both reached the place near the wall, you offered to guide him the rest of the way there. "Thank you, but I believe I know a shorter way," he whispered.

You allowed him to guide you on a different way to your home. Surprisingly, he was right about the shortcut. "I appreciate your kindness."

"And I you," he responded. He faced you, looking deeply into your eyes.

"But all I've done tonight is cause trouble," you nervously smiled.

"You offered a very interesting evening. I don't have those often, especially with a very beautiful woman." You flushed a bit when he complimented you.

"Goodnight, Diaval," you smiled and bowed your head one last time.

"Goodnight, Y/n." He brought your hand to his lips and placed a kiss on one of your knuckles. "Until we meet again."

After returning to your house, you ran upstairs to your bedroom. The window faced the front, and you knew you'd be able to see him as he left. You were right. His back was turned to you. He seemed to be walking towards someone. In a moment, he was turned into a raven. The same raven you had seen on the branch at the gate.

[mountkennedie]

Rose Quartz

Diaval x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: You give him a shiny rock :3

Word Count: 900 (this is more of a blurb)

"Good morning, Maleficent," you greeted her with a smile. It was a warm spring day, the kind you love. The flowers were blooming, and the fragrance made the Moors seem even more magical than it already was. The warm sunlight compared to the cool breeze added an extra level of tranquility to the atmosphere. And most importantly, your beloved Diaval, added his own flair to your peaceful world. His witty and playful personality kept your life very lively. "It is truly a lovely day, is it not?"

Maleficent was on a leisurely stroll by the river, admiring the work the other creatures had accomplished already. Ever since Aurora was crowned queen, the Moors had been blossoming with color, and all who lived near to see, were amazed. The river itself shimmered with new treasures every day. And with proper permission, you were allowed to take one. The water pixies only agreed because they love to see you and Diaval courting.

You had chosen a stunning pair of rose quartz stones. You planned to surprise Diaval today, because of his love of shiny items. However, you could not seem to find him anywhere. The stone Itself did not really match the dark colors he wore, but you hope he will at least appreciate the thought.

Maleficent hummed in amusement. "Indeed," she did her signature Maleficent smile. Which, to one who was not familiar with her, would not take as contentment. The fairy was not one to express her emotions broadly, but it did not mean she cared any less. Luckily, spending some more time with her, you are able to tell what means what.

She looked over to you and squinted her eyes for a moment. "I sent him on an errand. He should be back within the hour,' her voice cut straight through you. Were your intentions really that obvious? You were speechless for a moment, only nodding in agreement. Your embarrassment brought her a laugh, "Of course I knew."

You only smiled bashfully and said, "Thank you." You did not want to crowd her too much, so as she took a few steps forward, you stayed in place. When Maleficent went on strolls, she preferred to either have Diaval with her, or to walk alone.

The river pixies, of course, found Maleficent reading you like a book to be the funniest thing ever. You and Diaval's courting was a pretty well-known topic. And the fae made sure to play with you both as much as possible. All you could do was shake your head at the pixies and walk in another direction.

"I will tell him to meet you by the western waterfall," Maleficent called to you. You thanked her again. She thought the pair of you a sweet but naive couple. You don't take much offense to the claim of naivety, because she finds everyone naive. She has stated, she is happy to see him happy. And love apparently makes him more willing to turn into anything (even dogs).

~

You took your time walking to the waterfall. You had no idea how long he would be. Maleficent said within the hour, but that still could mean a while. And you still wanted to savor all you could of this magnificent morning.

The sun shining on the water made you curious as to how the sun would make the quartz react. So, you took out one of the stones and as you expected, it glittered brightly.

"(Y/n), what have you got there?" Your lover appeared from around the corner. You looked up in shock. His eyes were trained on the stone, as you thought they'd be. Ravens always had an attraction to shiny objects.

"It was supposed to be a surprise, but it's a quartz. Found in the river that I believed you would like." You handed the stone out for him to take. He took your entire hand in his and he took it. He held it gently as he inspected it. "This particular kind of quartz is believed to be one of pure love."

"This is stunning, my love. Absolutely," he looked up into your eyes, "stunning." He smiled brightly and you felt very accomplished. "I believe there is a way to take some twine and make a necklace..." He trails off into thought.

"I am just pleased you like it; I also have a matching one." You pull it out of your pocket and show him. This makes his smile even warmer.

"No. I want to show the love I carry for you. I would even," he lifts you up spins you around. "Run through the Moors professing it if you would let me," he joked.

You laughed, "Oh please, no. I do not want that kind of attention." You take a step closer to him. "But if we did make a necklace, I would make sure it rested on my heart at all times."

He looked at you like you hung the stars. But then looked away, and all around to see if there were any fae that could be watching you both. Once he saw the coast was clear, he pushed you both behind the waterfall with a mischievous look.

You puzzled expression was soon relaxed when he kissed you. No matter how many times your lips met his, you never grew used to the feeling. Especially how they made you melt every time.

When he pulled back, he took one of your hands and placed the stone inside, then pressed that hand to his heart. "Truly, dearest, I could not be more grateful for this gift." He placed a gentle kiss between your eyebrows. "I will treasure it forever."

[tyranicaldeity]

DIAVAL FIC CONTENT AT LAST AND IT PEAK

[julientel]

BG3 + LOTR logic

[tyranicaldeity]

A Witch and Her Familar

Diaval x (AFAB) Reader

Chapter 4/?

Word count: 1,556

Summary: Diaval tries to make small talk...he's not that good at it

A/N: The semester is almost over and my college gives us almost 2 months of winter break. I'm so excited bc then i can go crazy and continue writing this series without my internship, work, or school projects getting in the way!!! :D

Stumbling back from being unfrozen (y/n) had a look of confusion on her face. This was certainly the strangest start to the day. “I'm sure she’ll give you your book back!” Diaval let out a small, light-hearted laugh. It was clearly let out to try and clear any awkwardness forming from the two of them being left alone again. He stood there looking at her, quietly admiring her as she fixed her hair. She eventually noticed and gave him a puzzled look, “Well? Aren’t you going to take me to the border of Ulstead?” “OH! Right! This way, ma’am.” He gestured his arm towards a small opening in the woods. She looked out into the dark forest and hesitated; she didn’t know how to feel. Like everyone who lived in the area, she knew of the magical creatures of the moors, but she had never heard of birds turning into men. Was this common? How many of the birds that she had left food for on her windowsill been men?  Either way, she still didn’t know how to feel about being alone in the woods with the raven man. Alone in the woods with a raven was not an issue; the worst it could do was a harsh peck. Alone in the woods with a man, that's a whole different story. Men can do a lot of harm. “I’d rather you walk ahead of me, just for my comfort's sake…” she said to him. “Oh, of course! Come along then,” he offered her a kind smile and began to walk forward.

As she walked behind him, she kept a close eye on the ground, looking at the grass and different flowers growing from the ground. Occasionally, she’d glance up to watch his black leather coat swing back and forth. He turned his head a bit to look at her, “You know…” he spoke up breaking up the silence, startling her, “believe it or not, Maleficent isn’t all that bad. A bit intimidating and imposing, yes, but she's only protecting the moors… You know she can actually be quite nice from time to time!” He spoke in a rushed manner as if he had a time limit to try and convince her that she was not in any danger. He ended his ramble with an awkward laugh again before the silence of the woods took over the one-sided conversation. He seemed to understand why she would be apprehensive of walking in front of him. “I know you’re a bit weary about all of this, but trust me you don't have to worry about Maleficent, or me! In fact, I don’t like humans either!” he rambled out. She furrowed her brows at him and stepped back further from him. His face immediately turned to one of panic. His attempt to try and ease her accidentally came out as an insult. He stopped walking and quickly turned the rest of his body to face her. “That came out horribly, I LIKE you, I LIKE HUMANS! What I meant was that I get your mistrust of me as a human. You know, I wasn’t always one. My original form is a raven, in fact! I prefer that form! Maleficent actually saved me from a net as I was about to get bludgeoned to death by a human. That's what I meant by disliking humans. I was trying to relate to your distrust of them!” He flailed his arms at her and spoke at lightning speed. She wanted to laugh at his panicked state. In fact, she felt a bit of pity for him; she could tell he was trying his best to be friendly and make her feel comfortable by walking a few paces ahead of her to give her some space. She raised an eyebrow at him, “How often do you interact with humans? In human form?” she asked him. “Mainly Maleficent and Aurora, occasionally Philip,” he said as his hand came up to rub his nose. “I can tell,” a small huff left her lips before reaching into her bag, pulling out a white cloth tied together with a string. Diaval recognized the item and watched as her hands shook out some berries from the cloth. She walked up to him nd shook her palm up to him, “Hold up your hand, you do know how to use them right?” she said sarcastically. He held out his hand as she tilted her hand downward. He watched as some of the berries rolled onto his hand. She stopped before they could all go into his hand and pulled back her hand to place some of the remaining berries in her mouth. He smiled down at the berries and raised his hand up to her a bit as if giving a toast, “Thank you my lady.” He placed the berries in his mouth and hummed in approval. Blueberries, his favorite. 

They continued walking, slowly getting closer to the border of Ulstead. Now a little less awkward. Diaval making a fool of himself helped to ease the tension. While there’s still silence between them, it gets occasionally broken by small talk. “You said Maleficent saved you, is that why you follow her around?” (y/n) spoke up, breaking the silence. Diaval's hand raised to scratch the back of his neck and slowed his pace to walk beside her. “Yes, well…she saved my life, I am indebted to her. I am her willful servant.” She looked at him, “How does that work? I don't mean to be rude but, what do you offer her?” He responded with a laugh, “Well, nowadays, mainly my friendship…and whatever tasks she bestows upon me that she doesn’t feel like doing herself. Like keeping an eye on you.” He poked at your shoulder, to which you swatted away. “Sorry…But! I was originally meant to be her wings,” you cocked your head to the side, not understanding what he meant. “You see, a couple of decades ago Maleficent had her wings taken from her. Without them, she found use in me to take their place since she could no longer fly to go and do the things she needed,” Diaval said playing with the end of his sleeve. “What kind of things did she make you do then?” she asked. “It was mainly espionage," Diaval pursed his lips. That didn’t sound good, nor did it make them look good. He was losing his chance with her before there was even a possibility of one. (y/n) stopped walking and stood in place, “Espionage?! Hold on, what?!” she began. “I made it sound worse than it actually was, you see years ago Maleficent had a bit of a…” Diaval tried to find the right words to put together, “grudge with King Stephan and she would send me to keep an eye on him.” Right, THAT King Stephan. The story of a mad king and his battle with a fae from the moors that ended in his death. Maleficent being that fae. She always did wonder how it was that Maleficent found out about the christening; the answer stood in front of her. She began to walk again with Diaval joining, “I remember King Stephan, though I don’t know much about him other than his daughter Aurora. My family lived in a small independent village far away from his kingdom. We’d get the occasional straggler from his kingdom; they never had anything nice to say about him,” she said murmuring the last bit. “Yeah…he was a real piece of-” “HOLD ON,” she said cutting him off and stopping in her tracks. “I was 7 when Aurora was cursed, and you look about what, a couple of years older than me. Did Maleficent send out a child, bird, person to be her spy?” she asked with a look of utter confusion on her face. “No! Of course not, that would be weird. I looked the way I am now,” He replied. “But that doesn’t make any sense. The sands of time have had no effect on you whatsoever.” She begins to walk closer to him, inspecting his face looking for any sign of aging. Diaval’s face begins to flush. He’s not used to having anyone that close to his face. “I mean, if what you say is true, then you shouldn't you be what? In your late 40s? Early 50s?” She says while still being up in his face. “I-I guess I never really thought a-about it. Guess I’ll chalk it up to my mistress's magic.” Diaval stumbles over his words at her closeness. (y/n) finally steps back from his face. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have been so close to you like that. It’s just, you’re a strange specimen. I’ve seen a lot of things, but never something like this.” Specimen? Is that what she thought of him? Rude. “Well!” He huffed out, “We’re a couple of minutes to the border. Maleficent will be waiting for us there, and you can ask her yourself!” Not a chance, she thought to herself as Diaval turned around quickly and began to walk, (y/n) following behind him quietly. Diaval raised his palms to his face, massaging his cheeks as if that would make the flushed redness go away faster. He couldn’t have Maleficent see him in this state, all flustered and nervous.

Taglist:@avatar-of-procrastination

[tyranicaldeity]

A Witch and Her Familar

Diaval x (AFAB) Reader

Chapter 3/?

Word count: 1,133

Summary: Diaval finally meet the strange woman in his human form

A/N: So it turns out trying to juggle writing a fic, finishing up senior year of art school, and also working a job and an intership would be hard...but anyway, here you gooooo! If there are typos and bad grammar ignore it lol. English is not my first language :P

To be honest, it could have gone worse. She could have gone and cursed her, well…she might have, he was about to find out. But years ago, if this had happened then, she probably would have lashed out and yelled at him or turned him into a worm. She had changed a lot since then, she had healed a lot. Even then, Maleficent was an untamable flame, he never knew what she was going to do next. She was Diaval's closest friend, they had been through so much together in the past years. He was worried that what he said yesterday could have stirred something. He knew how she felt about love, she had a very complicated relationship with it. When poor Aurora first began seeing Philip, she would always go to update him first before Maleficent. Aurora knew Maleficent hated hearing about Philp and knew Diaval would gladly lend an ear. After hearing all of Aurora's retellings of her dates in the moors with Philip, he wondered if he would ever find someone like that for himself. What luck he had that right as he did, she was off to leave forever. All these thoughts and more plagued his thoughts as he made his way to the eastern border of the moors. 

So much walking and all to say goodbye to a woman who had never even seen him in his human form. Now that he thought about it, she only knew him as a bird, and the idea of a strange man walking up to you in a dark forest and claiming to know you, only to reveal that he was actually a bird, would drive any sane person away. He didn’t think this through, he was having second thoughts. Maybe he should just walk away. This was a bad idea. “Pretty bird! Pretty bird, where are you? Don’t you want to wish me farewell?” she went quiet for a second “I brought you food!” He heard her call out for him. Crap. He couldn’t turn back now, she would definitely hear him. His palms were beginning to sweat, his knees felt weak, he felt like puking, not to mention his heart began to race. Being a human was awful and miserable; he never got used to it, even after all these years. He took a step forward and accidentally stepped on a twig, breaking it. Her head whipped over to his direction and made eye contact with him. She gasped and began to back away slowly as if she saw a dangerous beast. “My lady, do not be afraid. It's me…your um, Plucky. It may be hard to believe, but I promise you it's true.” He said timidly to her whilst holding out his hand, carefully walking towards her to scare her off like frightened deer. She looked at him with a confused face. She stepped back again and furrowed her brows. “How do I know you're Plucky and not some strange man who's been watching me and my bird from afar, trying to deceive me?” she said rightfully, suspiciously. He smiled at her ‘my bird’ comment but gave her a look of agreement and nodded his head.  A reasonable question, “Well, for starters, my name is not ‘Plucky’ it's Diaval. I don't even know what Plucky means, and all this time you’ve been calling me a crow, which I’m simply not, I’m a raven.” He said while counting his points on his fingers, “Did no one ever teach you the difference?” She shook her head quietly. He pointed to himself, “We ravens are big and beautiful, crows and small and ugly.” She backed up again, “uh huhhhh,” he was losing her, and he was making himself look crazy. “Wait!” he held both hands up, “when we first met, you fed me bread crumbs and squawked back to me, and ever since you would either bring me lentils or berries or!-” his own mad ramblings were cut off by his own squawking. He was a raven again, how? The woman gasped and fell backwards in shock, seeing him transform into the Plucky she recognized, well…Diaval, since that's what his name was apparently. 

A giant winged creature landed behind her and Diaval. This creature she did recognize. It was the fae mother of the new Queen Aurora. A powerful woman who demanded respect. She slowly turned to look at her. She stood tall in a black dress with a tall staff. One that Diaval flew over to perch on. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you…?” “(y/n), m-my name is (y/n).” She responded quickly in fear of Maleficent. She had heard stories, some good, some bad, all of them suggested she was not a person to be messed with. “(y/n), I’ve heard quite a bit from my friend here Diaval…” Maleficent's hand raised to pet him. “I sent him to keep an eye on you when you came to the Moors. I don’t appreciate when curious humans stick their noses where they don’t belong.” (y/n) held her head low, she felt like a child being scolded. “Diaval, however, has vouched for you and said you’ve only come to the Moors to study its flora. Is this true?” she looked down upon the trembling human. “Yes, ma’am, I'm a healer, I work with nature, and I simply wanted to study the plants that grew here,” she lifted her head up to look at the glowing foreign plants that surrounded them. “I’ve never seen anything like them,” she said with a shy smile on her face. “Well? Don’t you have plenty on your end to study and cultivate?” Maleficent asked. “I do-” “Then why come here?” Maleficent cut her off, and to that Diaval made a noise of disapproval. “I…I just was curious ma’am, there was no other reason.” Maleficent looked her over with pursed lips, she could tell she was telling the truth. Just another curious little human. Maleficent sent a gust of magic towards (y/n) causing her cape to fly open and expose her bag holding her journal. The magical gust of wind then reverses itself sending the book flying into her hand. “Hey! That's mine!” (y/n) begins to move, but with the wave of Maleficent’s hand, she becomes frozen in place. “Quite busy you've been these past few months,” Maleficent said while flipping through the pages of her journal, carefully reading through some pages. “Glowing teal flower…growing 8 inches from the ground floor and possesses the same shape and smell as lavender buds, could possibly have the same calming properties,” Maleficent read out loud from her book before slamming it shut. “Diaval, bring her to the border of Ulstead.” She said before unfreezing (y/n), transforming Diaval into a human again, and taking off. “Im sure she’ll give you your book back!” Diaval let out a small light-hearted laugh.

Taglist:@avatar-of-procrastination

[yuckmr-deactivated20251218]

I need more male yearning in fanfics

[quaildoodle]

My current fixation is Diaval from the live action maleficent movie x my oc :3

[tyranicaldeity]

Check out my newest Diaval art piece :3

[zevampirex]

Some important life lessons

[cacodaemonia]

i'll never be over how aragorn and legolas jump right in to back up gandalf's bullshitting at edoras

gandalf to aragorn: ;D

aragorn: ilu, you sneaky fucker

legolas: here, let me help you. take my arm

all four: *runway strut*

[panda-pal]

Doctor Who: The Runaway Bride (2006) Directed by Euros Lyn

[tyranicaldeity]

A Witch and Her Familar

Diaval x (AFAB) Reader

Chapter 2/?

Word count: 841

Summary: Maleficent sends Diaval to keep an eye on a mysterious woman on the border of the Moors

A/N: I'm typin like crazy with this fic I'm going crazy THE VOICES!!!!

She returned a week later, and just as before, Diaval found her squatted near the ground, sketching and writing about the various plants around the border of the Moors. He landed on a tree stump not too far from her and watched her quietly as she went from plant to plant. Eventually, she spotted him and slowly made her way over to him, so as not to scare him. “You see, I would have thought it was a coincidence that we met twice before, but now a third time? I'm starting to think that you're following me, plucky.” Was she starting to catch on to him? His cover had been blown, and Maleficent would be upset, he thought. “Good thing I had a feeling I’d see you again.” She reached into her pouch and placed a pile of lentils onto the grassy ground and backed up so that he could approach the food without fear. “Come on, come eat pretty bird.” he may not have known what plucky meant, but pretty bird? That he did know, and it was about time too! It had been too long since someone acknowledged his beauty, and he gladly accepted the lentils.

Thus started a sort of routine, over the span of two months, every time the strange woman appeared in the Moors, Diaval watched over her as Maleficent ordered. However, over time he found himself enjoying accompanying her. It could have been because she brought him food every time they met, but nevertheless, he enjoyed looking at her and he enjoyed her ramblings; not many people, besides Maleficent and Aurora, would talk with a raven. Diaval eventually began to bring her new plants from further deep into the Moors for her to study; since by the orders of Maleficent, she was not allowed to go any deeper into the Moors, and the beaming look of happiness would make him puff his feathered chest out in accomplishment every time. Today was no different; he had brought her a pink iridescent flower for her to inspect and catalog in her book. “Good bird, you’ve brought me a wonderful specimen this time,” she said, delicately petting his head with two fingers. In return for a job well done, she poured out some seeds that she brought for him. “Enjoy them while they last, plucky. Tomorrow will be the last for a long time. I must travel two towns over and find myself a new home,” he squawked at her in surprise, and she returned the squawk and sighed. “Let's just say I got myself into some trouble and I’m not welcome there.” Diaval began to panic. “She can’t leave!” he thought. He could not have his favorite human (besides Aurora) be gone for who knows how long. Who was going to talk to him and keep him company and bring him food? Sure, there was Maleficent, but Maleficent had Aurora, and while Maleficent was his friend, he was still her servant first and foremost. He didn’t know what this woman was to him; Maleficent was his friend, but what he felt for this woman went deeper than a friend. He liked this strange woman, she couldn't leave! Oh…he liked this strange woman. Maybe it wasn’t just the food. He flew off immediately, leaving the poor woman to wonder why her crow (raven) friend left so unusually early.

“She’s leaving!” Diaval exclaimed mid-transformation and clumsily landed on his feet. “She does every time, what else is new?” she said aloof, leaning on a tree, watching the water fairies dance from afar. “No, like for good, she told me so just now.” He said, exasperated. “Good, then you no longer have to keep watch over her any longer. I don't see why you are so upset. If anything, you should be happy you’ve got free time again.” He sighed at her words, “I'm upset because I enjoyed watching her!” He stopped in his tracks. He said too much and watched as Maleficent slowly turned her head to look at him. “You…enjoyed it? Diaval, is there something you’ve not been telling me?” She had a look on her face that he couldn’t quite decipher. Her face was stern and cold, yet her tone was soft. “I…I believe my affection for her has grown these past few months. I would like to-” He paused, he wanted to say that he wanted to fly out and follow her to her new home tomorrow, so that he could visit her in her new home, but Maleficent wouldn’t allow it. She’d surely notice his prolonged absence if he were constantly flying back and forth from towns. He opened his mouth to continue, “I would like to say goodbye to her tomorrow, in this form… if I may, mistress. I would like to at least like to bid her goodbye in a language she understands.” Maleficent remains quiet, looking at Diaval. She continues to look at him as she begins to walk past him and flies off. Diaval remains where she once stood, still human.

Taglist:@avatar-of-procrastination