literature

Guardian (Male!MaleficentxFaun!Reader) Part 1

Deviation Actions

Published: Mar 25, 2015

134.2K Views

Literature Text

~Author's Note: So this is very belated cause I got major writer's block halfway through that postponed this for weeks. So tada!! Note that this is the LIVE ACTION version, not animated~

~**IMPORTANT**: I am using J Scott Campbell's "Fawn Girl" as a reference. Please go look it up before reading. Thank you!!~

The moss-covered earth crunches beneath your steps as you move through the enchanted forest, faeries and sprites festooned with fantastic, sparkling feathers and wings flying overhead and singing the day’s beauty. They flit around your twisting antlers and ankles as they gracefully leap flower to flower, sometimes gliding down your neck and back to use your upturned tail as a slide, which causes for it to twitch.

You’re not bothered by their merrymaking, nonetheless. You rather enjoy the company during your wandering; only it isn’t wandering. As aimless as your route appears even to you, you’re following an unseen force that’s drawing you deeper into the forest, and it seems as though you’re the only one affected by it for the frolicking creatures show no signs of even noticing it.

This force, this presence…it’s calling out to you, though you have a feeling it’s unintentional. Perhaps it’s due to your hybrid of human intuition and animal instincts that you sense it. You consider that you’re the only one who can anymore. There aren’t any of your kind left—faun, that is. All have become part of the earth or killed for sport by kings and the gentry as a rare, invaluable possession. Now you’re left alone and unarmed, as it’s not in your nature to do harm to another creature.

You gently shake your head at the reminder, long ears flopping from the gesture. But then you pause. What if what you’re feeling is another faun? It would explain why you and no one else can sense it.

Perhaps I’m not alone! you think and press forward with more purpose.

The faeries and sprites are caught off guard as you settle into a graceful gallop and fly around you, leaving glistening trails of dust behind them in beautiful patterns. You leap lithely over a fallen tree without missing a beat and soon the light of a small clearing on a ledge comes into view.

Whatever is pulling you is there; you can feel it.

As you near the presence, something makes you stop short of the forest edge, something you reprimand yourself for not looking into before: you can’t smell the unmistakable scent of another faun; you only smell faeries—although the scent is now overwhelming. You look to your companions only to realize they’re no longer with you, but nervously lingering a matter of feet behind.

“What is it—?” You’re cut off by a deep, resounding sigh from the clearing. Your ears stand alert. When no further sound comes, you silently crawl forward to the bush line and see a massive, low swooping tree adorned with white and yellow flowers. But it isn’t the tree that catches your attention, it’s the figure lying in the cradling crown.

They don’t seem to have noticed you yet, so you advance with stealth till you can make out their crossed ankles in rugged, black boots, pants, and arms that appear overlapped above a draping, sleeved cloak. Bundles of flowers prevent you from seeing their face, however. You try to move closer once more.

“It’s rude to spy on a slumbering creature, girl” the figure speaks; it’s a man. His voice is deep, very, very deep like an ancient forest god. A sudden gust of wind sways the smaller branches just enough to allow you a glimpse of his face, and you baulk realizing he’s staring at you from the corner of his eye with piercing, brilliant jade.

The wind dies down in a flurry of snow petals. “Forgive me,” you say. “I was lured here by your presence."

The man makes no indication of having cared for your comment either way and emits a more aggravated sigh. “And here I thought I would be permitted a moment’s solitude,” he mutters. You open your mouth to apologize just as he shifts to sit up and the two of you meet face to face through a break in the florae.

His stoic bearing creases with a faint smirk. “Well, well… You’re not a girl, just a little faun. What a rare encounter this is,” he hums, lacing his clawed hands over raised knees. From the shadows you feel him regarding the white that flecks your (f/c) fur and curved stomach plane of (f/c) of your womanly body.

You eye him in confusion. “And you’re not a man.”

This is true in every regard, save for his masculine appearance. His skin is a pale milkweed that stretches over high cheekbones beneath dazzling eyes and ink black, shoulder-length hair that frames pointed ears. A metallic, spectral glint draws your attention up above his head where two thick, twisting horns protrude from his skull.

You’ve never seen an anthropomorphic male with such an adornment. “What are you…?” you ask unconsciously. The man tilts his head further into the shadows as an indication he heard and you shift beneath his guarded stare. He scrutinizes you as though he’s debating whether or not to give you the answer you seek. The forest behind you stirs in seemingly equal anticipation. He turns away till he’s nearly obscured by the mast of the tree.

There’s a long pause. “Please return from whence you came,” he growls softly.

“But I have nowhere to belong,” you reply—why did his dismissal make you anxious, make your instincts oblige you to do everything in your power to avoid it? “I’m sorry if I disturbed you, sir, I just wanted to learn what was attracting me here.”

“And now you’ve been made aware, so be wise, faun, and take your leave!” he barks and throws his torso towards you, but the gesture immediately coils his body in with a deafening, snarling hiss, his hand clutching at his left shoulder blade.

You pulse forward out of concern at his plunged brows and bared fangs. It takes him several moments to compose himself. “Wait,” you start, scenting the air that he inadvertently thrust in your direction. “You’re a faerie! But…where are your wings?”

The male glowers and slinks back to the safety of the shadows as if disgraced. You swear he lets out a short, uneven series of exhaling winces before he says, “You should learn to mind your own business.”

“And you should learn to control your subconscious,” you retort.

He looks at you out from the sides again. The tension surges. “Do elaborate your bold accusation,” he says.

He really doesn’t know?

“Back in the forest,” you gesture, “I felt you. You singled me out among the various creatures and lead me here so I could find you, although I don’t know why… You don’t seem to particularly want me around.”

A noise comes from his throat that indicates he concurs. “It’s not just you; I want the whole bloody world to disregard me,” he sneers.

“That is not what I felt in the forest.” The tension that permeated his aura has subsided a margin, and you take it as a chance to approach the tree. “You’re denying what your subconscious knows you require because you refuse to acknowledge it. Forgive the boldness, but I believe it has something to do with your missing wings.”

He lowers his gaze, the flexed muscles of his jaw relaxing in affirmation.

You step closer till you can place your (f/c) fingers on the bark and lean into it. “You’re in pain, aren’t you?” you ask, even though you know the answer. By any means he avoids your fretful eyes.

“Pain only disturbs the physical body, that of which I am above,” he says.

“That’s not entirely what I meant.”

Your words pull his emerald irises down to you in wary confusion. Without him having to voice it, you continue, “A faerie who has lost its wings suffers unimaginably so… The pain it feels expands far beyond what’s comprehensible, down to the core of their beings as it seems as though… as though not only are their wings lost, but their freedom is as well.”

The male’s demeanor tightens, but not in anger; in shame that he failed to conceal his pathetic circumstance. Nevertheless, he inhales deep and, upon the long exhale, he forces himself to lower his guard marginally—you apprehend what he’s struggling with well enough. He stares at you in partial resignation.

“You’ve learned of my disgraceful condition. Will you please leave me to wallow in it now?” he asks.

“You require help.”

He shakes his head, his horns tickling the flowers. “No, I do not. I need to be alone.”

“Please!” you shout. He reels back at your distressed expression. “I feel the pain of Nature and her creations, including yours. As willing as you are to lie to me, I am not willing to leave you here to perish.”

“I am not so weak to wither away from something so menial,” he drones.

You make an exasperated noise. “That’s not what I meant,” you repeat. “Were you in a better state of mind, I wouldn’t fear for your life. But if I leave you now in the state you’re in… At this rate, the infection will spread from the inside out, and it will be fatal." You watch him as the heaviness of your words settles in his mind. The wise extent of them caught him off guard, but the faintest twitch of the lips alludes to his impression with you.

“I know you want to be rid of me. Allow me to tend to your injuries and I’ll leave,” you say.

From the sound of your determination, the man completely stows away his guard, however done against his better judgment, and steps to a lower branch. “This would be irrefutable if you were human, as I disdain them more than a raven does a poisonous mealy-worm, however…”

His voice trails off as he hesitates to take the next step that would put him in absolute clear view, make him vulnerable. The new branch groans beneath his weight and you stare in awe of his entirety. “This is not the case, and, as I’ve reconsidered it, it would be unwise of me to dismiss such a rare beauty,” he finishes.

You blush at his compliment, but more so at his overwhelming stature. He’s incredibly tall and yet his physique has managed to counter this fact, covering him slender, narrow muscles that are rather visible. The long cloak drifts idly behind him due to its great length like a pair of long-forgotten wings.

“What is your name, faun?” he asks, placing his hands on the branch above.

Despite his humble appearance, you can sense immense power that rolls off of him in majestic waves. “I am known as (y/n), sir.” You dip low lest you offend him.

“A rather odd name for a faun,” he comments, “But suiting, nonetheless.”

“Thank you,” you mumble. “May I ask yours?”

He looks out past you in disinclined contemplation—there would be no point in turning back now. He places his feet upon the grass so the sunlight streaks down onto him and reflects off every breathtaking aspect of his figure. “Maleficent.”

“A rather odd name for a faerie, but suiting, nonetheless,” you smile. He gives a breathy chuckle through his nose at your jeer, then looking at you expectantly. Your apprehension suddenly increases realizing this is truly about to happen. “Sit anywhere you like,” you mumble.

Maleficent, in one graceful move, sits a little beyond the tree with his back to the forest. You kneel behind him and can soon tell he doesn’t have it within him to reveal his disfigurement, so you slip your fingers beneath the collar of his cloak and slowly pull it off his broad shoulders.

What meets your gaze is a horror beyond comprehension that sends you recoiling with a muffled yelp.

Two large, gaping slits flex instinctively to the stolen weight and flush the surrounding skin with blood that scorches the tender nerves. The pained muscles retract as he breathes to focus on relaxing himself. Out of morbid curiosity, you croon your hand out to touch the plane beneath the severed appendages. His body seizes up in immediate response and you apologize quickly.

“Oh god…” You make a beckoning grunt to the faeries that have, faithfully enough, lingered by the tree line. They fly to you without much hesitation. “Bring me the roots of Yarrow and Aloe Vera leaves. Please, hurry.”

Maleficent watches over his shoulders as his smaller, female counterparts disappear into the bushes. He rotates further to see you still gawking at the raw slits on his shoulders, sends one last glimpse at the forest, and averts back to his hands in his lap. How did he get here? How did the most omnipotent faerie in the Moors get here?

As if mirroring his disbelief, you ask, “Who did this to you?”

His pointed ears angle downward. In his mind vivid memories of someone’s face flashes and bleeds red. “A woman.” You perk up at the actuality that he answered.

“A woman?” you repeat. Though you can’t see his face, you’re more than certain it’s creased in dolefulness. “She was human, wasn’t she? I can’t imagine anything else inflicting this kind of torture upon a creature.”

By then the faeries have returned with the requested items and you get to work after crushing the Yarrow roots into a slick texture. You provide a gentle warning of the impending pain. His body clenches and he hisses as you rub the linctus into his raw flesh.

“Yes,” he seethes. “But this is of my error and mine alone.”

You shake your head even though he won’t notice. “I don’t understand.”

A few seconds pass while he adapts to the sensation. “I was foolish and believed in something that doesn’t exist. I thought I had found it within her…but it was a lie, and I paid a heavy price for it,” he whispers.

What could possibly cost a faerie its wings? you think with a frown while placing the Aloe Vera leaves over the wounds. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” you say.

He scoffs internally. “Spare me your pity, faun. My regret is at its end for I only feel hatred now,” he mutters, his voice deepening till it’s a grating hum. “I burn with resentment at her impropriety, her putrid audacity. It fills me like an acidic fire. Revenge is my sole purpose in this waste of a life she has left me with, and I will not be turned away till it’s mine.”

The pure loathe that surges through your figure from his renders you frozen in shock. Nature trembles around him from fear of his wrath that you have never before experienced. All his previous despondency was a façade, you assume, and now his true intentions have come to light, although it frightens even you. However, it’s not for the reasons one might think, rather it’s in a brooding concern for his safety, and not for his physical being. You can feel his heart as if it’s your own; it cries out in a pain unfit for words, unfit for life. You fear that it will fail him in its fragile state.

Maleficent tenses and meets your gaze as you move to cup his face to turn it towards your own. “Please don’t do this to me,” you plead, long ears pinned back. His jade irises narrow guardedly after momentary contemplating.

He sighs and closes his eyes, but doesn’t retract from your touch. “You can sense what I’m feeling,” he says in recollection.

“Yes.” The muscles in his narrow face relax beneath your palms.

“I see… And what exactly is it that I’m feeling?” he asks, except it doesn’t entirely seem like a test. His heart tells you he’s using your otherworldly sense with hope that it will illuminate what he himself can’t comprehend.

(E/c) meets jade once more and you search those penetrating pools of ambiguous emotions. “You’re not filled with hatred; you’re scared,” you say and Maleficent pulls his face away from your grasp, but you lean to stay within his view. “You’re scared that you’ll never regain your former glory, that you’ll be doomed to be a slave to your distortion.”

Your words visibly sting him with shame, yet you smile, reaching out to turn his face back to you. “But I sense a beautiful strength within you that brings me to my knees in awe. Your wings do not give you this power; it comes from your fervent soul that remains unbroken despite how shattered your heart feels. However…”

He watches you as you frown at the wounds on his back and grip his shoulder. “It torments me to see an innocent creature in such a state,” you whisper. “And not just because I feel your pain as my own.”

Maleficent chuckles sarcastically. “Only a naturally gracious faun would consider me innocent after I vowed revenge upon a human,” he simpers then pauses. “Why concern yourself with me?”

You glance up at him—it’s a reasonable question—and then at his horns with a faint smile. You raise your hand to trace the serpentine-like patterns in the protruding bones. “Perhaps because I am the last of my kind, and you are the only one of yours,” you mutter, going to caress his pointed ear. “I’ve already lost my people; I don’t want to lose something else just as precious. And so I’m overcome with a determination to protect you.”

The faerie stares into your sincere expression, searching for a fault or the slightest sign of ingenuity so he can find a reason to deny what’s stirring within, to turn you away and dismiss you from his mind as irrelevant. But there’s nothing there but genuine adoration for him, just as he is now with no regard for his lack of power. He gazes down at nothing in particular and gently rests his hand atop yours in the grass.

“What do you ask of me?” he whispers.

Your ears twitch upward. “What do you mean?”

Maleficent looks at you, his fingers flexing into yours slightly. “Do you wish me to stay here in the Moors? To accept my life—my alteration—as it is and learn to be satisfied with it?” he asks, and yet it doesn’t come derisively or harshly; it’s genuine. When you show hesitation, he continues, “If you do not oblige me to stay, I will fight to regain what is mine, for I feel you alone will be the last to be able to stay my hand. What little remains of my trust and affections you have earned, (y/n). Do with it as you see fit; I will be content either way.”

The emotions within him finally become steadfast with acceptance, his heart becoming a radiant orb of soft jade. Yes, there still lingers wisps of crimson, of pain and resentment, but you know they will soon dissolve away as time passes. His exhale is drawn out as you wind your arms around his neck and bury your face within his ink black hair.

“I could never ask you to subject yourself to a life without your greatest sense of freedom, despite how dearly I wish for you to remain safe,” you say.

His face idly brushes yours. “It is not impossible to find a worthy replacement.” Long, elegant fingers drift along your body and to your cheek to raise your head so you can see the gentle resolve that has filled him. “I will stay within the Moors, (y/n), but only if you remain by my side. Your presence eases my mind and, somehow, the thought of being wingless does not frighten me as it did to its former extent.”

Maleficent traces the curves of your fur-patterned face with careful yet adoring strokes. “You intrigue me, faun, more than you should,” he whispers. “I cannot deny that the notion of you being the last of your kind burdens me, particularly in view of the incessant greed of Man. A beautiful creature such as you does not belong on a mantle as a trophy—one of our freedoms has already been used vainly.” He becomes stoic, although his words remain fervent. “I will not grant your desire to protect me, forgive me. But I ask that you permit me the same desire so that I may protect you.”

Your tail and ears stand erect in unison and your chest swells with an ardent bliss that nearly causes for you to weep with joy at the overwhelming relief that Maleficent will be safe—with you. You rest your forehead against his. “I accept,” you smile.

Maleficent’s lips curl minutely though he’s never felt more at peace. He effortlessly lifts you into his lap and languidly rotates his wrist in vibrant, green flames. The tree creaks and groans as it bends to his will, a branch wrapping around the both of you and lifting you to the nestling crown where he envelopes you in a protective embrace, a hand brushing aside your hair that’s pressed to his chest. His legs rise as a barrier around your extended body.

“Rest, my little faun. Here and now I vow that I shall always be here when you awaken.”

~Fin~

Link to Part 2--> Guardian (Male!MaleficentxFaun!Reader) Part 2
~Author's Note: * I am using J Scott Campbell's "Fawn Girl" as a reference. Please go look it up before reading*~
~Sorry for the major delay, guys. Thank you so much for your patience and understanding <3 Also, "Cheeps" is a real animal name from the movie, not from me lol~

~IMPORTANT: This is not the end. I wrote enough that there will be a PART 3. Keep an eye out for it this following week!! Love ya'll~
Soft emerald rays of filtered sunlight shine down upon you as you move through the forest much like you did all those seasons ago, with faeries flying playfully around your antlers and ankles and Nature herself in perfect harmony. However, this time you’re not alone.
Your guardian is with you, as he always is and has vowed to forever be.
Maleficent follows you silently with perpetual patience and grace, and yet one would not consider him a guardian at first glance, his large, twisting, spectral horns,
As sadistic and diva-fabulous the animated Maleficent is, I really enjoyed making him more stoic yet just as intimidating. He's a lot more beautiful that way