Diaval walked silently through the dense forest. He turned away from Maleficent's wings, seeking a rare moment of solitude, away from the Dark Lady's ever-watchful eyes. His raven form gave him an advantage; he knew how to move without being noticed, hiding in the shadows, as he did now.

You were there, picking wildflowers, oblivious to the world around you. You were a simple servant of the castle, your mind was distracted, you muttered softly about the weight of your responsibilities, while your nimble hands picked daisies with precision.

Diaval, always the joker, watched you from the shadows, feeling the temptation to provoke. With an almost imperceptible movement, he assumed his human form, eyes shining with mischief as he approached silently. Then, in a low, gentle voice, he suddenly spoke from behind you:

“Lost, my lady? Or are you just picking flowers to decorate the prison that is the castle?”

You jumped, almost dropping the basket of flowers, your heart pounding in shock. Quickly turning to face him, he let out a laugh.