This is my first time. Will be happy to hear comments. A few more chapters are already on their way.

I own nothing.

Touch

There was a very strict rule about touching: there will be no touching.

When Diaval was first turned human, he still had many of his bird habit, one of which was the chatter. Birds are not able to communicate complex content and emotions using words, but they do make a lot of noise sometimes. They need to declare their presence, establish their place in the group, check how their are ranked among their peers.

Diaval talked with his mistress. He used his newly acquired intelligence to speak - with humor, irony, an attempted smile, to continue to do just as birds do - establish being part of a group, even if a small one.

But there will be none of that with his mistress. She did not laugh at his jokes. No eye contact. No reply. All she ever told him were orders. Orders and an occasional statement of her dark plans and thoughts - but he was not expected to respond. This was not a conversation.

If not to talk then to touch.

Once after giving her some news she was not happy to hear there was a silence. Was she thinking about her next move? He placed his hand on her arm. She pushed it away so quickly and with such strength that his breath was caught in his lungs.

"Never touch me!"

Her eyes pierced through him with a fire that made him take one step back. He was truly afraid. But it was over faster then it started. While he was thinking what to do next, her eyes were already looking past him, to some point in the distance, and she was back to talking about how she will find a way to hurt him, the human king, not Diaval.

She of course touched him as much as she wanted. When he was in his feathered form she would often pat his feathers. Even hold him. Place him where it was most comfortable for her, on her shoulder or on a branch next to her hand, so she can continue to stroke him while thinking out loud.

There were two occasions in which the rule that forbade him touching her was broken.

The first happened just a few months after he became her servant. He flew back from the king's castle. It was winter and the wind blew hard dragging him side ways. It took all his strength to fight it and keep flying straight to where his mistress was waiting. Just when he approached her the wind suddenly changed, and as she turned him into his human form he was pushed forward by the wind. Exhausted as he was, he fell directly at her. She moved.

She did not help him retain his balance, but moved. His shoulder brushed her side, between her stomach and her ribs, as he fell on the ground. Turning around he saw her hand placed on the area where he touched her, and her face showed an expression of mixed disgust and anger. But it lasted only one second. She then demanded to know the information he obtained. No question or comment were spoken about the incident.

The second occasion in which he touched her was more dramatic.

It was the third anniversary of Stefan's rise to power as a king, and there was a grand celebration in the castle, or what looked like it from where she was standing - on an edge of a cliff overlooking Stefan's kingdom, right by the dead oak tree - it's dry roots around her feet.

She saw the bright lights in the castle. Soon Diaval will be back telling her all about the celebrations - the ladies, music, food, and all the bright objects that he saw. Oh, his love of bright and shiny objects. It's as if he can talk forever. Do I really need to hear about all these things I don't care about? she thought. Why can't he only tell me the things I do want to hear? But it is so hard to extract information sometimes, and I must always listen to it all - one can never know where an important piece of information may lie.

Maybe I can teach him, her thoughts continued. Explain slowly how to not bother me with lengthy descriptions. But this option meant that she herself would have to lengthily describe something to him. Probably more than once. And if there was anything she liked less then his voice, it was the sound of herself speak. Right then there was a load crow. She woke up from her own thoughts and turned around. Two soldiers were right in front of her - the one that's closer already had his sword up in the air.

The two soldiers were doing their routine patrol when they saw the dark horned figure standing silently with her back to them. They were young, and thought this can be an opportunity to stand out. Deep in thoughts, she did not hear them sneaking up on her, and had it not were for this revan appearing from nowhere, screaming, the sword would hit her right in the neck.

But she turned around and had just the time to raise a hand in self defence. The sword hit her arm and cut deep to the bone. She felt a gush of blood and a burning pain. Truly burning - the sword was made of iron, and cutting so deep, she could smell her own flesh burning. Diaval lunged downwards towards the soldier as he saw his mistress taking one step back - but there was no place for her to place her foot. It was the edge of the cliff and she fell.

While falling she raised the hand that was not injured and said - fire. Immediately the grass beneath the soldiers was caught in flames. The fire spread in an unnatural speed in a large circle from where they were standing, and they had no choice but run. The revan still circling high in the sky above their heads.

The fire burned out quickly. It did not affect the grass, the tree, or any of the plants, like lighter liquid blown out of the mouth of a magician in some country fair. Maleficent was holding on with her healthy arm onto a root of the oak tree that was sticking out of the cliff wall a few feet below the edge. Her feet struggling to find some hold against the rugged wall. Diaval landed on the cliff right above her. She raised her aching hand, just a few fingers really - 'to a man'.

He was careful not to fall as well. Down on his knees, body bent down, he was struggling to reach her. She could not leave her hold on the root of the tree, so she had to raise the arm that was hit but the soldier's sword. With his right hand he grabbed her, and as he did so, he felt it moist with blood, and heard her try to control the shriek of pain escaping her mouth. He held her elbow and pulled her up a bit, only enough so she can throw her second hand around his neck. He placed his left arm around her, on her back, and like this he was finally able to pull her up completely.

He needed to catch his breath. She was much lighter than he thought, but still, not easy to pull up like this. And he was already tired after the long flight. They both were on their knees, facing each other. He was slightly taller, still holding her, as she was leaning against him, her arm still around his neck, her head and upper body against his chest. But it did not last long. He quickly removed his arms from her and froze. She pulled away and closed her eyes. There was no need for the green magic she usually used. Since it was her own wound she had to heal, all she needed was a few moments to look inside and guide her healing powers.

He was painfully aware of how close she was to him that moment. Though she was in her own world, her head was a few inches from his face. She smelled of flowers mixed with sweat, but he was careful not to breath in too much. And it was over. She placed a hand on his shoulder, helping herself to get up on her feet. 'Find me my staff Diaval. I want to see if I have two burnt corpses on my hands, or if my work still needs to be done'. She started walking expecting him to follow.

It took him a few seconds. He never thought what she meant when she said her wings were taken away. He knew it had to do with king Stefan, of course, but how. Maybe he imagined it as some magic. Just like he was transformed to be a man and then a bird again, she was transformed to be with no wings. It hit him now - it was not painless. On her back, as he pulled her up, he felt the stubs. They were pressed against her heavy garment, but he felt them. They were moving. Only slightly. Maybe because the muscles operating them are still used to assist in any form of physical challenge. Her wings were cut off. Brutally cut.

Oh and the humiliation. Having to be pulled up by a man. Dragged on the ground to safety. His fingers touched the ground. His legs felt heavy. Made of stone. He knew what wings meant.

She was a cripple. He felt pain in his back, where his wings would be as a revan. The pain quickly moved to his stomach and he felt he was about to faint.

'Diaval!'

But he had no time for that. He got up and ran.

That night she chose to sit under the tree overlooking the cottage, and not on one of the branches as she usually did. Maybe her hand was still sore. She was almost completely with her back to him, and he was staring at her for long minutes. He did not say anything all day. She did not ask about the celebrations. Trying to be amusing felt out of place right now.

She raised her staff and planted it back hard on the ground right next to her right foot.

'There! A cockroach! do you want it?'

She knew how much he loved to eat them. As a man he could catch the bigger ones - the ones that always got away from him as a bird. They made the best sound as he chewed them with his human teeth. But she never allowed him to so much as admit to eating them. He was not sure this was not a trap.

'Well? Do you want it? Im not going to hold it much longer you know.'

He slowly walked to her side, carefully bent down and placed his hands around the place where her staff met the ground. She sharply removed it and the bug was in his hands. A big one.

Still not sure what to do he walked back to where he was before. Standing behind her at safe distance, making sure she is not looking, he placed the entire insect in his mouth. It was surprising to him she did not like it. How else can one survive? Maybe if she tried it she would love it. May even make her feel better, he thought, as he bit down on the poor creature still moving in his mouth.

'You were silent all day. Was there anything you wanted to say?' her green eyes were looking right at him.

He couldn't answer immediately, with mouth full and all, and she turned back from him.

He swallowed.

'If someone would cut of my wings, I would want to have you by my side, mistress'.

This was the first time he spoke like a human. Saying something that was true.

A long pause.

'Well, I do have me. And you. Diaval. Thank you'.

This felt good.

'Would you… like to… hear about what I saw in the castle today? There were many things to eat, but also so many people there. All with their shiny jewels.. The women with their rings and..'

'Stop. Go steal the lamp from the house before the idiots drop it again and burn another hole in the roof. I dont want to be preoccupied with anything while taking in all this information.'

He smiled back at her. 'Yes, mistress.'