She Will Be Loved
Aug. 11th, 2015 04:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katleeptTitle: She Will Be Loved
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Maleficent
Character/Pairing: Diaval/Maleficent
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fan_flashworks #127: Sleepless
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,175
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Disney, not the author, and are used without permission.
He watches her from up high in a tree nearby her resting place. He sees every tremble that passes through her bared back. He watches her. He guards her, and he knows, although her beautiful face is turned away from him, that her dark, soulful eyes are wide open on this, another sleepless night.
There have been too many of these nights recently where she lays and pretends to sleep but doesn't actually catch even a moment. He's here for her -- he'd never let anything or one hurt her --, yet she's still afraid to close her eyes. She's still afraid she's going to awaken and he will have returned to take even more from her.
He knows what happened before. She speaks very little about it, but he's heard the tale whispered through the other Fae who pay her fealty without question. They all loved her before; they all trusted her before. And it was because she wanted to protect them all that she took the leadership of them, a status that no one had held her until she took it that night.
He can not fathom how any one can hurt so beautiful and kind a creature as she, but he knows humans do horrible things. She saved him from them before. That is why he gave her his servitude at first, but since then, since he has come to know her better, since, like the others, he has come to love her, he knows he would follow her nonetheless. She alone has the power to protect them from the terror that is humanity.
It's amazing how furless and featherless creatures that have to walk on two legs can do so much damage, but he's seen them kill whole families, witnessed the path of destructions they've taken, slaying whole villages and burning entire forests. They consider themselves to be superior to all others, but there's not another species of which he knows that is crueler. There's no other he knows of which a man would pretend to love a woman and then poison her and remove body parts as the so-called King took his Maleficent's wings.
His ebony feathers rustle on his back. The mere thought disturbs him. He'd like to peck the bastard's eyes out. He'd like to claw every inch of his skin away and leave him screaming as he heard Maleficent scream after she awoke when he had had her. She trusts no other -- she still doesn't even trust him --, and Diaval, although he wishes it were otherwise, can not blame her. How can one trust, after all, when they've lost so much by trusting the wrong man?
He sees her tremble again and glides down from his perch. He's not certain what he can do to help her, what she'll allow him to do, but he has to try. He can not watch another moment of her suffering silently. Each tremble that has passed through her back, scarred as it is from when her wings were cut off of her flesh, has also passed through him, tearing at his heart and soul.
He wishes he were human. He wishes he had hands to lay on her rather than a cold, hard beak and rougher talons. Even a dog, right now, would be preferable to his true form, no matter how ugly and odorous they are. But he has what the Maker has given him, and he intends to use it to help his Queen.
He lays his beak upon the highest scar and massages it in slow circles from the closed bottom of his beak. He hears her sigh, rubs her a little longer, then moves to the next spot. He repeats the maneuver again and again until, suddenly, he feels his body begin to change. His wings and feathers vanish, the latter replaced by human flesh.
His beak becomes a mouth, and with it, he asks softly, "My Queen?" She does not speak to him, does not answer, does not ask for more. So he waits until his wings have become hands and feet, and then he lays his hands upon her. She shivers underneath his touch, and he waits, just letting her feel the pressure of human hands upon her flesh again, until she calms. Only then does he spread his touch. Only then does he use the human hands to massage the scars that a true human left upon her.
She sighs again under his touch. He's never massaged another living being, but he seems to be instinctively adept at it. He makes his way slowly down her back, touching each place that wields the image of hurt from the human, and then starts back up again. The thought to go lower never crosses his mind nor does the thought of doing anything else. He only wants to comfort her, after all, his Queen.
Her sighs are music to his ears. They caress him along with the night wind in this place where they are safe. They are safe here now, but it's only because the humans do not dare venture into their kingdom. He fears that may one day change, but if or, rather, when it does, he'll still be here beside her. He'll be beside her for as long as she allows him to be and will help her in any way he can. He told her once that his life was hers because she saved it, but tonight, he gives it freely. He gives her his life and his soul without question and asks for nothing in return. She is, after all, his Queen, and he is but a meager servant eager to please and aid her.
He feels when she at last begins to slip into unconsciousness. He feels when the land of Slumber pulls to her mind. He feels her beautiful eyes shut, and even then, he continues the massage. His human hands are growing tired, but he doesn't care. He massages her until she falls into a deep sleep and his natural form is returned to him. Then the crow lays his head upon her shoulder, and that is where he sleeps that night and many nights after, close by her, right beside her, ready to attack and claw any who would dare venture too close, any who would hurt his Queen.
He is hers, and he doesn't have to speak the words again for her to know. She already does in his constant vigilance, ready protection, and gentle touch. She knows he'll be here for her as long as she allows, and although in the recesses of her mind, she still fears the humans will claim their lives, she sleeps this night, and every night during which he lays his feathered head upon the cool skin of her shoulder, with a smile on her face. She smiles, because she at last feels safe. She smiles, because she is loved. They never speak about it, but she knows it nonetheless to be true. She smiles because of Diaval.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Maleficent
Character/Pairing: Diaval/Maleficent
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt:
fan_flashworks #127: SleeplessWarning(s): None
Word Count: 1,175
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Disney, not the author, and are used without permission.
He watches her from up high in a tree nearby her resting place. He sees every tremble that passes through her bared back. He watches her. He guards her, and he knows, although her beautiful face is turned away from him, that her dark, soulful eyes are wide open on this, another sleepless night.
There have been too many of these nights recently where she lays and pretends to sleep but doesn't actually catch even a moment. He's here for her -- he'd never let anything or one hurt her --, yet she's still afraid to close her eyes. She's still afraid she's going to awaken and he will have returned to take even more from her.
He knows what happened before. She speaks very little about it, but he's heard the tale whispered through the other Fae who pay her fealty without question. They all loved her before; they all trusted her before. And it was because she wanted to protect them all that she took the leadership of them, a status that no one had held her until she took it that night.
He can not fathom how any one can hurt so beautiful and kind a creature as she, but he knows humans do horrible things. She saved him from them before. That is why he gave her his servitude at first, but since then, since he has come to know her better, since, like the others, he has come to love her, he knows he would follow her nonetheless. She alone has the power to protect them from the terror that is humanity.
It's amazing how furless and featherless creatures that have to walk on two legs can do so much damage, but he's seen them kill whole families, witnessed the path of destructions they've taken, slaying whole villages and burning entire forests. They consider themselves to be superior to all others, but there's not another species of which he knows that is crueler. There's no other he knows of which a man would pretend to love a woman and then poison her and remove body parts as the so-called King took his Maleficent's wings.
His ebony feathers rustle on his back. The mere thought disturbs him. He'd like to peck the bastard's eyes out. He'd like to claw every inch of his skin away and leave him screaming as he heard Maleficent scream after she awoke when he had had her. She trusts no other -- she still doesn't even trust him --, and Diaval, although he wishes it were otherwise, can not blame her. How can one trust, after all, when they've lost so much by trusting the wrong man?
He sees her tremble again and glides down from his perch. He's not certain what he can do to help her, what she'll allow him to do, but he has to try. He can not watch another moment of her suffering silently. Each tremble that has passed through her back, scarred as it is from when her wings were cut off of her flesh, has also passed through him, tearing at his heart and soul.
He wishes he were human. He wishes he had hands to lay on her rather than a cold, hard beak and rougher talons. Even a dog, right now, would be preferable to his true form, no matter how ugly and odorous they are. But he has what the Maker has given him, and he intends to use it to help his Queen.
He lays his beak upon the highest scar and massages it in slow circles from the closed bottom of his beak. He hears her sigh, rubs her a little longer, then moves to the next spot. He repeats the maneuver again and again until, suddenly, he feels his body begin to change. His wings and feathers vanish, the latter replaced by human flesh.
His beak becomes a mouth, and with it, he asks softly, "My Queen?" She does not speak to him, does not answer, does not ask for more. So he waits until his wings have become hands and feet, and then he lays his hands upon her. She shivers underneath his touch, and he waits, just letting her feel the pressure of human hands upon her flesh again, until she calms. Only then does he spread his touch. Only then does he use the human hands to massage the scars that a true human left upon her.
She sighs again under his touch. He's never massaged another living being, but he seems to be instinctively adept at it. He makes his way slowly down her back, touching each place that wields the image of hurt from the human, and then starts back up again. The thought to go lower never crosses his mind nor does the thought of doing anything else. He only wants to comfort her, after all, his Queen.
Her sighs are music to his ears. They caress him along with the night wind in this place where they are safe. They are safe here now, but it's only because the humans do not dare venture into their kingdom. He fears that may one day change, but if or, rather, when it does, he'll still be here beside her. He'll be beside her for as long as she allows him to be and will help her in any way he can. He told her once that his life was hers because she saved it, but tonight, he gives it freely. He gives her his life and his soul without question and asks for nothing in return. She is, after all, his Queen, and he is but a meager servant eager to please and aid her.
He feels when she at last begins to slip into unconsciousness. He feels when the land of Slumber pulls to her mind. He feels her beautiful eyes shut, and even then, he continues the massage. His human hands are growing tired, but he doesn't care. He massages her until she falls into a deep sleep and his natural form is returned to him. Then the crow lays his head upon her shoulder, and that is where he sleeps that night and many nights after, close by her, right beside her, ready to attack and claw any who would dare venture too close, any who would hurt his Queen.
He is hers, and he doesn't have to speak the words again for her to know. She already does in his constant vigilance, ready protection, and gentle touch. She knows he'll be here for her as long as she allows, and although in the recesses of her mind, she still fears the humans will claim their lives, she sleeps this night, and every night during which he lays his feathered head upon the cool skin of her shoulder, with a smile on her face. She smiles, because she at last feels safe. She smiles, because she is loved. They never speak about it, but she knows it nonetheless to be true. She smiles because of Diaval.
The End
