He sometimes imagined what death would have been like if she had not rescued him from it. Would it have been peaceful, or painful? His father, a big strong bird of the deepest black, hadn't seemed hurt when the silent arrow had pierced his feathered breast. He just lay his head back on the vibrant grass where he had stood, his beady coal eyes fading to a dull black. Diaval had never seen his father vulnerable before. He thought that the great bird, the hero in his quaint life, would never die. He always knew, however, in the back of his mind that his father wouldnt be alive forever. Diaval had lived in a rather large oak tree, with a large hole formed in the middle. This hole went back far into the massive space inside of the trunk, and that is where his family lived. He had no brothers or sister birds, they had died before Diaval had even known their names. The magnificent oak tree was where he had taken his first fragile flight, his first slimy morsel of food from his mother's throat. His mother was a small bird, timid and obedient in his father's precence. However, she was caring and loved both of them like a good mother should.

She had been revolted after Diaval had changed. Each time he tried to visit home in the form of a bird, she squawked as if he had come to murder her. She could smell the evil stench of Malificent on him. The pain of being treated as an impostor in his own home devastated him. He knew his father bird's death was hard on his mother bird, but now he had no way to help her. He wished desperately at times that he had not been changed, that instead he had died. Malificent seemed to have no heart. She saw his sadness but didn't even acknowledge him. She never talked about her life, only about her revenge on King Stephen. Diaval was only a slave she would use to carry out her plans. At least, It definitely looked that way at first.