Maleficent had the head start. She had been tugging on her dress even as she'd continued to explain why their so-called "trist" was so wrong. Diaval hadn't been able to process any of it. She had enjoyed it. He knew that with all of his heart. His queen didn't pretend or lie to make others feel comfortable. Ever. So while he sat in the grass, shocked, she had dressed and started down the hill.

He was too late in dressing. Too late in chasing after her. She had not started in the direction of her chambers, and now she had disappeared into the trees where there were a million paths to be taken. Diaval did not overlook the irony that if he was a dog at that moment, tracking Maleficent couldn't have been easier. But he wasn't. He was just a man.

This was the downfall of the human body, but it was also its greatest strength. The dull senses were made up for with more expansive thinking power and a multitude feelings that came from within. As a raven he had felt hunger, paranoia, and confidence. There had been no thought of future consequences. No thought of others. If he had been in his natural form now he would have the physical capability to find her, but not the overwhelming need to that he felt now. Sometimes he wished for that simplicity, sometimes he cursed the fact that he had ever led such a narrow life. This was the dilemma behind shape shifting.

"Maleficent!" he cried out into the forest, fumbling at the tie around his pants even as he walked. "Maleficent!" He held her name this time, like he was singing a note. But still she did not reply.

Without his wings or the ability to track her scent, Diaval had to give up the search. She would return home eventually, and he would wait for her. He would wait for her no matter what.

When he arrived home, there were no candles lit in her room, nor had the pollywog family living nearby recall seeing her pass by that night. Where could she be? Diaval sat down heavily at the base of the stairs and put his chin in his hands. He wished he could fly.

He knew that Maleficent wished that she could as well.

They had so many things in common, and yet she would not confide in him. She had always thought that Diaval could not understand her. Not true. The raven didn't have to know all of the twists and turns and intricacies of her past to know his mistress. Really know her. He read her like she might read a book.

Perhaps this was for the best then. He'd made it out of this alright. She could have killed him rather than let him walk free after what they'd done. She probably would have if he had been anyone else. It was practically confirmed that the queen held him in a special place in her heart. She cared for him. So shouldn't that be enough? And shouldn't he have known that this...they could never be?

The answer to both questions was logically a "yes". But he couldn't bring himself to really understand why it had to be. Why couldn't he expect her to be open with him and treat him like more than a valet?

Because she was Maleficent. Single-minded, determined, and un-compromising. He loved all of these traits, but something twisted inside of Diaval's stomach as he realized that he had chosen the exact wrong kind of person to expect love from. But the human heart paid no heed to logic.

She returned with the dawn, sweeping in as the fog rolled out. Diaval lay at the base of the steps, his arm stretched beneath his head like some sad, pauper pillow. She wanted to hold him, lay with him, and wake up to a morning where yesterday had not taken place.

It couldn't be. Aurora's curse was still effective, and nothing could draw her attention from saving the child. She'd go to the ends of the earth, die if she had to...

And if such a thing were to happen, what would befall her poor raven? If she gave herself to him , he would not let her go. She couldn't think of hurting him like that, and perhaps abstaining from...well, whatever had happened yesterday would save him some pain.

Maleficent was convinced that she would have to die for Aurora's sake, and she would not drag him down into it.

Lightly, she touched his temple and pinched the skin. The fairy hummed quietly and gave a sharp tug so that a green thread emerged from out of Diaval's head. It glowed with the images of the previous afternoon, cycling around and around. There was something soothing about it, watching their happiness from an outsider's perspective. It was a confirmation that, yes, it had all been as real and wonderful as she remebered.

She remembered...but he could not. Maleficent let go of the thread and it began to float upward, like a dadelion seed on the wind.

Yet another thing that she would have to keep from him. Though perhaps, if by some miracle she should survive all of this, she would reenact that afternoon on the hill...just for him.

(A/N: Whoa, this took a long time to finish. I know this was not the ending you guys wanted, but I felt like this was the best place to end. Maybe I'll re-visit these guys later, I love them so much.)