Aaand...I'm back! Sure took me long enough and I will make no excuses for my absence as I'm sure you really don't care and am just glad I'm updating. (Don't worry, I'm glad to be updating too!)

To my reviews! (If you skip my reviews just make sure you stay for my notes as I have some warnings for you)

Siepie: It's good to be back, even if it did take forever. I'm glad you're enjoying and you liked my portrayal of the fairies. I agree, they were a bit brainless and annoying in the movie, and while I'll be playing on that a little bit later on, I definitely don't think they're as clueless as they seem. And thank you, I'm glad you like the way I'm handling everything as it's one thing I worried about. :) I hope you'll continue to read and enjoy!

ILoveGoodBooks777: Thank you for the review! Good job catching the reference. It may take me a while to find some more direwolves, but if I can find a warm enough coat I'll see what I can do! ;) And you kind of hit the nail on the head there with the wings, lol. I'm glad you enjoy this story so much and I hope you'll continue to follow along!

Cat girl: Thank you for leaving a review! It is very emotional and will only get more so from here so hang on tight! I can't say too much without spoiling, but suffice to say, yes, Stefan is slowly going mad, and so the 'voices' are equal parts his insanity and...something else. I've hinted at it, but don't worry, answers will be coming soon! I hope you'll bear with me until then and continue to read and enjoy. :)

Carmine DeVil: Thank you for the review! I'm glad you've enjoyed this so much and I hope you will continue to enjoy!

Phew, ok Author's Notes! (Also forgive any mistakes, I typed out these notes on my phone so I could get this up for you, it's currently midnight where I am but no regrets!)

Things are slowly starting to pick up in this chapter, and as I mentioned before, is definitely an emotional one!

**Warnings for this chapter include one 'mild' panic/anxiety attack, and while it's not as detailed and heavy as my past few, it's still intense.**

But there's a little something for you guys at the end, and hopefully it'll have been worth the wait. ;)

I look forward to hearing what you think! Thanks for your patience and support!

-Raven

"You wished to speak with me, Your Grace?"

The room was cold, though Stefan suspected it had more to do with his current position by the window than the actual temperature. He stared down at the courtyard, taking in the large black stain that filled almost the whole of the cobbled stones. In the dark, with the torches flickering, it almost looked suspiciously like blood, and he found himself imagining just what sort of figure that could be the cause of such a mess. One figure in particular...

"Your Grace?"

He started, pulled from his dark thoughts abruptly. He frowned, turning from the open window to meet his advisor head-on.

"Yes, Cyrus," he said slowly. "I did wish to speak with you."

The man spread his arms, an easy smile on his face that Stefan found himself envying. "I am at your disposal, Sire. How can I-"

"I didn't call you here for useless pleasantries," Stefan snapped, and if the man was in any way affected by his tone, he didn't show it. He simply fell silent, inclining his head and waiting for Stefan to speak.

"I called you here for this." Stefan motioned towards the small stack of papers resting on the edge of the table. The once smooth edges were now pinched where he had grabbed it, and the ink had smudged in places, but he had practically memorized the words.

Cyrus was significantly more careful in his handling of the papers, and he did a far better job than Stefan had at controlling his emotions as he read. Stefan started pacing when he reached the second page, and by the third, he was seething once more. Cyrus glanced briefly up at him, his brows lifting in what Stefan could only interpret as amusement. Then he took in the seal and signature at the bottom of the parchment, and his features fell flat in a solemn expression.

"Well," he drawled cautiously. "This is certainly…unprecedented."

"Unprecedented?" Stefan barked, slamming a hand down over the damning articles before him. "They might as well be at our gates!"

"They aren't at our gates yet, Your Grace," Cyrus said calmly, but Stefan didn't miss his wording.

Yet. Three kingdoms had sent letters; full of regrets, condolences, and sorrow, but all of them stating in no uncertain terms that they would not be allying themselves with his kingdom. Not when it was besieged with such creatures and curses.

"Bastards," Stefan muttered, and Cyrus made a clicking sound with his tongue.

"According to their letters," the man said slowly. "They feel deceived."

"Deceived!" Stefan repeated furiously, but his fury died when he saw the stern look his advisor was giving him.

"After all, you came into your crown on the promise that the very creature who cast this curse, was dead. Killed, by your own hands."

"What are you saying, Cyrus?" Stefan growled lowly.

"I believe it has already been said, Your Grace; by your former allies. It is not my place to judge, only to advise," the man added quickly. "And so, I advise we work to eradicate this threat for good. Show them that you can protect them, and they will join with the throne."

"And I suppose you've already concocted a way to accomplish this," Stefan said warily. "A way to destroy that witch and her kingdom?"

"I merely have suggestions," Cyrus said, spreading his hands. "And, if you could succeed in killing the witch, taking over the Moors instead of destroying it…."

"Succeeding where Henry failed," Stefan finished, understanding what the man was getting at. "Uniting the kingdoms, showing the people that I can provide for them."

"Precisely. Where we begin with that, however, is entirely up to you, Your Grace."

Entirely up to him, indeed. Stefan shoved aside the letters and prepared to begin drawing up battle plans and maps, looking out window the stare at the Moors. The kingdom that would soon be his, guarded by the wall of thorns that glinted darkly in the sun.

The sun.

"Aurora," he whispered to the air.

"Your Grace?"

He turned to his advisor, ignoring the skeptical look in the man's face.

"We'll begin with Aurora," Stefan repeated. "Keeping her safe. She needs to be safe; away from all of this."

Away from the curse.

"Of course," Cyrus inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I will set about finding…."

"I've already settled that," Stefan interrupted.

"You have?" Cyrus straightened, and if there was something about the way his eyes narrowed, the tilt to his head; Stefan didn't acknowledge it.

"The fairies," Stefan murmured to himself, his eyes once more finding the shadow of the Moors in the distance. "They'll protect her; keep her away from here. And when it's all over, she'll return to a kingdom far greater than it was when she left."

For her sake, Stefan would succeed. There were no other options.

It was still raining. The whole of the Moors was a dark, cold mess, the rain soaking through everything and covering the ground with muddy holes. The creatures that lived underground were forced to evacuate and find other means of shelter; their burrows having been flooded within a few days of the storm's initial downpour. The Moor folk above ground fared little better; not even the trees provided shelter enough to shield them from the rain. Though that didn't stop one bird from trying. The raven perched high above the surrounding area, nestled as tightly as he could in a tree that shifted and moved as though it were alive.

"I take it things didn't go well," the tree spoke to the bird. The raven shivered, his feathers fluffing out from his body in a vain attempt to rid himself of the rain soaking his body.

"I wouldn't be here in this form if it had gone any other way," the bird snapped back, his beak clicking sharply in agitation. "I tried, though, Balthazar. I really did."

"What did she say?"

The raved crowed lowly, a sound that could be interpreted as a laugh, but was too bitter to be anything cheerful. "She told me to leave. She didn't need to say much else…I think my current form speaks enough as it is."

"She's stubborn, Diaval," Balthazar intoned sadly. "Stubborn and hurting."

"The rain…," Diaval said, shuffling along the branch. "The storm…."

"Her magic is acting out in response to her emotions," the Guardian surmised. "Have you gone back at all?"

"A week," the raven cawed miserably, not seeming to hear the question. "A whole week of this storm, surely by now…"

"Diaval," Balthazar broke in firmly. "Have you gone back to her?"

"Every night," Diaval said, just as firmly, but he kept his dark eyes on the land before them. "I go every night. And it's always the same."

"Her magic?" Balthazar asked, worry and fear in his tone. "The lightning in the clouds at night?"

"No," Diaval said, shaking his avian head. "Not her magic…nightmares. She's been screaming again and…and it's just getting worse."

The Guardian makes a sharp rumbling sound low in his throat, and Diaval isn't sure if it's a gasp or a sob.

"I try...but there's nothing I can do; not in this form. I sit with her, try to wake her, but it never…I can't…." Diaval chokes on the rest of his words, shaking his head and blinking. No tears, at least, in this form. It was as much a blessing as it was a curse.

"There has to be something," the Guardian said quietly, his own voice broken with pain. "She can't go on like this."

"You think I don't know that?" Diaval crowed, flapping his wings sharply and spraying water everywhere. "You think I don't ask myself what more I could possibly do…"

A sudden boom of thunder cut off his painful tirade, the rumbled echoing so deep he could feel it in his very core. Balthazar straightened beneath him, a low gasp slipping past the Guardian's lips.

"No."

Instantly, the sky was lit up, a sickening crack filling the air as lightning followed the ominous boom, and Diaval cawed harshly, lifting up from the tree branch and flying into the stormy air. He could hear the Guardian calling something behind him, but it was drowned out by the dull roaring in his ears; not the storm, no; the pounding of his heart as he flew through the Moors, chasing the crackling lightning in the distance.

No, he pleaded silently as he flew. No, no no.

The storm led him not to the nest, as he'd usually visited, but to the hidden cove of lakes just south of the Cliffs. Diaval felt his stomach lurch as he dove beneath the curtain of water guarding the place, and began scanning desperately for any sign of Maleficent's presence. The storm was an obvious indicator, but it did nothing to provide him with a specific location.

"Maleficent!" he crowed desperately as he flew, diving in between the twisting trees and scanning the surrounding caves.

The storm stole his cries, drowning them and replacing them with its own loud crying. He cursed furiously to himself, ducking into another cave only to find it empty as well. The thunder was fading, at least, but the lightning still flashed dangerously, cracking sharply as it split the sky above him.

"Maleficent!" he tried again, and this time his call was answered. Muffled, and half buried beneath the pounding rain, but there was no mistaking what he'd heard.

A scream.

He banked sharply and flew towards the sound, swooping low to enter a crevice in the side of a stone that was almost completely hidden by another cave. Inside, the roar of the storm was almost completely silenced, though Diaval still heard the rain as it beat against the outside of the cave. He landed atop a stone shelf and almost knocked over a small leather pouch sitting next to him. He shuffled the bag back into place and then scanned the cave, anxiously fluffing his feathers to free them from the rain.

He opened his mouth to call again, but another muffled scream rang out before he could, the sound chilling to hear. Diaval turned and saw a second stone shelf carved into the opposite wall; lower to the ground, and almost like a bed. And it was on this bed that Maleficent lay, her dark robes and horns barely visible in the shadows of the small space. She lay curled tightly on her side facing him, her back arched against the wall; everything about the tense positioning of her body screaming pain.

Diaval crowed hoarsely, flying over to her and landing on the curve of her shoulder, pressing himself against the crook of her neck in a desperate attempt to rouse her. An attempt which turned out to be in vain, and more dangerous than anticipated. A shock went through his body, jolting him from his perch, and he flapped his wings hard to regain his balance as he hovered just above her.

A warning shock, he tried to remind himself as he caught his breath. Her magic, trying to protect her. But it did nothing to calm his fear as Maleficent's eyes suddenly flickered open, bright green and darting restlessly around the cave. Diaval cawed softly, landing on the bench by her hand, which clenched into a fist as she drew a sharp breath, a low noise of pain echoing in her throat.

Diaval chirped quietly, skipping a little closer to her, but he wasn't entirely certain she knew he was there. Her eyes squeezed shut again and her whole body tensed, her back arching painfully off the bench as another muted scream slipped past her lips. Diaval crowed sharply in alarm, and Maleficent's eyes flew open again, landing squarely on him. He straightened on the bench, anxious and wary, but her fingers twitched, her lips silently forming his name.

"Here," he tried to convey with another chirp, shuffling closer to her. "I'm right here."

Maleficent's features twisted again in pain, but when her mouth opened, instead of a scream, she choked out a hoarse and whispered, "Into a man," before collapsing back onto the bench.

Instantly, Diaval felt the magic course through him, the familiar sharp tingling as his body shifted and changed, but there was something different about it this time. When he regained his feet as a man, he surged forward towards Maleficent, collapsing onto the bench beside her but stopping just short of taking her into his arms. There was still that line of servant and master; and though he toed it quite well, there was still that wall she'd put up between them, and he couldn't breach that without losing her completely. He didn't dare.

Maleficent's eyes opened again, focusing on him as he hovered just above her. He drew a breath, waiting anxiously for a negative reaction. But the look she gave him was intense despite the pain, a clear intention there even before she whispered his name. It was enough for him, and he shifted on the stone, carefully drawing her into his arms.

Despite his care, she still stiffened against him, pain etched into her face and echoing in her hoarse cry. Diaval wrapped his arms around her slowly, repositioning so he was sitting upright, his back against the stone wall and her own body cushioned against his own. He could feel the magic still tingling through him, and when Maleficent clutched at his own arms another shock went through him, freezing him where he sat.

He tried to draw a breath, and then realized with a surge of panic that he couldn't. He couldn't breathe, and his entire body seized painfully, pain grabbing him by the spine and squeezing hard. He gasped, in vain as the pain intensified, the smallest twitch of movement on his part bringing an electrifying jolt that sent excruciating spasms down his back.

A harsh, high pitched sort of whistle met his ears, and he thought dully that it might have been a scream, but whether it was his own voice or another's, he didn't know. But he did know that the pain was spreading, the spasms echoing painfully in his lower back, but radiation from just between his shoulder blades; each clenching of muscles there leading to an even sharper spasm in his lower back.

There wasn't enough air, and not enough control over his body to draw more than even the smallest gasp of breath. Each attempt only brought more pain, and his chest and throat burned from holding back his cries of pain. He was certain that this torture would continue indefinitely, but suddenly it eased, and with another harsh jolt, he was snapped back into his own awareness.

Maleficent sobbed breathlessly beneath him, her fingers clutching desperately at his arms with each painful clenching of muscle. Diaval blinked back his own tears, trying to shove aside every thought that didn't involve getting her through this. But how? He couldn't possibly hope to reach her through all of that. But…she needed him. In this moment, she needed him, and he refused to let his doubts get in the way. He wouldn't fail her. Not again.

Another soundless sob wracked her body, and Diaval felt the clenching of her muscles as her back arched once again. He grimaced, holding her just a little tighter, carefully lowering his head so his mouth was by her ear, his chin hovering just short of resting on her shoulder.

"I'm here," he whispered quietly. "I'm right here, Maleficent, it'll be alright."

There was no immediate change, but Diaval continued to talk anyway, slowly and calmly, tracing gentle circles along her side where his fingers could reach. It occurred to him as he murmured soothing nothings into her ear, that he was using her name again. It felt almost like cheating, given her current state and inability to respond to him, but at the same time, he felt like the use of her name brought him closer to her; that the line wasn't so firm and he could move freely on equal footing.

It was confusing, more so when combined with his other thoughts and feelings. What did he want? What sort of relationship was this now? The way Maleficent turned to him, allowed him to hold her; to remain so close like this…what did this mean? What did she want this mean?

A sharp gasp cut through his thoughts, and he blinked, returning his attention to the moment at hand. She needed him here, now. He could (and would) worry about it all later. Maleficent stiffened in his arms, a stifled whimper of pain echoing in her throat as she clung to him, and Diaval wracked his brain for another solution, something else that could ground her and bring her out of the vicious cycle she was caught in.

A tune leapt to his mind as he watched the rain fall in the darkness beyond the cave; a slow lilting lullaby he had heard long ago in a neighboring village. He hummed softly as he recalled the words, then cleared his throat, lowering his head and resuming his trace of circles as he began to sing.

"When the night is still and the sea is calm, lonely shadow, you call upon me…lay by my side, fear not tonight, lonely shadow, you'll find a new light."

A tremor went through Maleficent's body, but it was softer, smoother than her body's previous movements. Diaval drew a slow breath, steadying himself and her before continuing.

"Hear the nightingale sing a lullaby, lonely shadow, you'll find a new light…dawn will be kind, all will be right, lonely shadow, rise from the darkness. Dream a dream and see through a place where we can fly away…ride with me upon a shooting star, above the moonlit sky we will find…Elysium."

The rain was nothing more than a dull echo by the time morning finally arrived, the cave having transitioned from near complete darkness to the foreboding grey that the Moors typically took on when daylight was allowed inside. Diaval blinked slowly, lifting his head from where it had fallen against the stone wall behind him. He began to stretch, then froze when he remembered his current position. Maleficent was still as she lay against him, completely relaxed in what Diaval hoped was -finally- sleep.

The night before had been the worst of any of his previous visits. He'd always gone to her, when the clouds thickened and lightning had burned through the sky, he had flown to be with her wherever she'd hidden herself away, perching on her shoulder as a raven and staying with her until the storm had passed. But last night…Diaval shivered as he thought of it, remembering the glimpse into the pain Maleficent had endured that he had felt when her magic had gone through him.

If he had known that it had been like this, he never would have left her, or else, he'd have come back sooner. There was a part of him that tried to reason that it didn't matter- that he was here now, but he also knew that it did matter; that by not being completely there for her, he had failed her somehow.

"I won't fail you again, Maleficent," he whispered. "I promise."

She stirred at the sound of his voice, and he drew a sharp breath that was echoed by another, drawn by Maleficent as she stiffened in his arms. Diaval froze, silently pleading that this wouldn't turn into a reprise of last night as her fingers clenched around his wrists, which were wrapped gingerly around her waist. Another sharp breath rang out into the air, a shudder going through Maleficent's body that didn't seem to stop, and Diaval recognized the warning signs, a small twinge of panic going through him at the thought of yet another waking nightmare.

"Mistress?" He whispered quietly, shifting his grip just enough that it would be less constricting.

There was the sound of a soft gasp, a sigh, maybe, and Maleficent relaxed, her fingers no longer threatening to imprint themselves on Diaval's arms.

"Diaval," she murmured quietly, almost to herself, and Diaval frowned, worrying that she'd mistaken him for someone else; and suspecting that he knew exactly who. But he forced himself to remain relaxed, his voice soft as he confirmed.

"Yes."

Instead of relaxing at this information, she stiffened once again, pulling away from him as much as her current position would allow. Diaval moved with her, worried. The sharp set of her jaw indicated anger, but everything else about her still said pain, and he didn't want to let her go just yet.

"Diaval," she said again, and though her voice faltered over his name, there was still power in her tone, and Diaval reluctantly removed his arms from around her.

Instantly she moved, reaching for her staff and lifting herself to her feet. Diaval straightened even further on the bench, but he didn't need to pursue her further as she almost immediately stumbled back, steadying herself against the cave wall. He began to reach out, his lips forming her name, but she stiffened as though sensing his intentions, her hand lifting in a sharp gesture.

"Don't."

The word was a sharp snarl on her lips, her teeth bared in what would have been a fierce expression if Diaval couldn't still see the fear and pain in her eyes.

"Mistress," Diaval tried, but she shook her head, her staff swirling sharply with black and green.

"Don't, Diaval," she warned again, but it wasn't quite as firm as it could have been. Diaval stood slowly, and she tensed, but he stayed by the bench, reaching with his words instead of his hands.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he said quietly.

"Do what?" she asked, and he was certain that the only reason she sounded as genuine as she did was because he'd caught her off guard.

"This...," he replied slowly, thinking on how to describe it right. "Pushing that you're doing. I know, and I'm not going anywhere…there's nothing you need to hide from me."

Something went up in her eyes at his words, but he couldn't tell if it was another wall, or an emotion. He suspected it might have been a bit of both, judging by the sharp spikes of blue and red that had temporarily cut through the black of her staff.

"You don't know everything, Diaval," Maleficent intoned fiercely. "And you have no right to suggest that I owe you anything more."

"I know," he agreed carefully, shaking his head. "That's not what I meant. And…and you're doing it again."

"Enough," Maleficent snapped, green lighting in her eyes and sparking in the air as she turned on him. "You've forgotten your place."

"You can't keep doing this," he said, a pleading note in his voice. "You can't rely on me one moment, and turn on me the next."

"I don't need to justify myself to you," she retorted coldly.

The way she said it turned her words into an insult, but Diaval wasn't intimidated by it this time. He'd seen too much of her to fear her in that way again. But she was afraid, no matter what she said, and he knew it was just that fact; that he had seen her, was what terrified her.

"I'm not him," he said softly. "I'm not going anywhere, and I would never...what I mean is, you don't have to hide from me."

"I am not hiding, Diaval," Maleficent growled, equally soft as she began to pace. "And I am not afraid."

'Of you,' seemed to go unspoken, but Diaval understood. And though he wanted to make her see; to make her understand him, as well, he also understood that he was treading a very fine line. He didn't want to push further than he already had.

"I'll go," Diaval finally answered quietly. "If that's what you want…but I won't leave."

He wanted to say so much more, but he felt like he'd already said too much. Diaval inclined his head instead, a stiff bow that felt almost mocking in light of everything that had just occurred. He shoved his feelings aside; since it was beginning to grow apparent that such things were not wanted or needed of him, and turned to make his exit from the cave.

"Why did you?"

Her question came suddenly, and to his back, so he didn't see the expression on her face. He turned back slowly, but she wasn't looking at him; her body half hidden in the shadows so he could barely see her at all.

"Leave," she clarified stiffly at his silence.

"I was afraid," Diaval answered honestly, stepping further into the cave.

Maleficent made a low noise that Diaval couldn't quite interpret, but that reminded him of a suppressed sigh of pain. He knew that she thought that he had been afraid of her, and while it was only partially true, he couldn't dissuade her idea without re-crossing that newly erected wall.

"And why did you come back?" she demanded in an undertone.

"I was afraid," Diaval said again, steeling himself as he approached her. "Because I realized that…I…"

He hesitated, his brow furrowing as he tried to find the right words to describe what he felt. He feels a slight pang of regret; birds never had this sort of problem. But he tries anyway, hesitating again before pushing on.

"I…care about what happens to you," he said slowly, a part of him hating the words because they just didn't seem to fit right. "And, I was afraid, because I knew I should be there for you, and I wasn't. I came back because it was right…because I needed to be with you. Because I…"

"No."

Diaval faltered, caught off guard by the whispered word. Maleficent stiffened when he met her eyes, sucking in a sharp breath that didn't quite seem to end as it echoed about the cave. Diaval opened his mouth, about to question the sudden change in her demeanor, but something flickered in her expression, and he hesitated. It had only been there for a second, but it was there nonetheless, and Diaval didn't need to see the changing colors of her staff to recognize the flicker for what it was.

Fear.

And he hated that he was the cause of it. It wasn't fear of him- he knew that, but it still hurt to see. It was the situation itself, the fact that he'd caught her so vulnerable; that she needed him in the first place. That…he needed her. Diaval frowned, latching onto that thought and trying to explore it more, shifting his weight back and forth. It was a strange thought, a strange feeling, and he knew there was a word for it; that instinctive raven part of him knew the feeling, but the man didn't know the word.

It was called…it was….

A memory, not his own. A flash of gold, of sunlight. Of laughing green eyes and solemn, adoring grey. A soft closeness, and a voice…a word.

"It's called love, Maleficent."

Diaval started, his eyes darting up to meet the guarded ones of his Mistress, the light from her staff flickering and casting further shadows across her face. He still couldn't read her expression, but he knew that if he tried to press further; to reach out or especially if he shared his newfound feeling…it wouldn't bode well for him. And yet, he couldn't ignore the feeling, either. Couldn't confront it and couldn't get rid of it.

And so, he did the only thing he could do in situations like these.

He left.

And tried to deny the broken sob that echoed down the cave walls after him.

At the edge of the thorn wall, just where the Moors started to meet the world in the form of a meadow beyond, an ancient tree conversed with a man.

"And what of Maleficent?"

The tree spoke, and the man shifted so his back was pressed even further against the trunk he leant on.

"Stubborn," he replied mournfully. "You said so yourself. She won't admit to it, and I can't help her if she…."

"I would say it will take time, and yet…," the tree made a gesture that could have been a shrug, but which only served to dislodge the man from his position.

"We've had more than enough time, Balthazar," the man said, his sharp features pulling down into a frown. "There's nothing I can do."

"But knowing you, you'll still try, won't you Diaval?"

"Always," the man murmured. "I owe her my life, even if she no longer wants it."

The tree hummed low and long, its branches creaking with its questioning moan. "Diaval?"

The man blinked, the sky above blurring between grey and blue and brown. "I think...I think…I love her."