#OH OH OH AHHHHH AJSNAJSHDJKDKDKSJS I ADORED THIS TO HIGH HEAVENS

[hanafubukki]

“Love is for the lonely.

Love is for fools.

Loving you is precisely how it’s meant to be.”

“I am having,” he begins slowly, before gesturing outwards. “A crisis.”

Yeah…yeah you are dear. Don’t worry we all have them😂😂

“Is young master not hungry?” The kobold asks as its black eyes meet with his. It licks away blood from its fingers. “Does young master not wish to indulge? We fae are creatures of indulgences. Silly, to deny nature. Perhaps young master is my silly rat instead.”

YES YES THIS THIS THIS

Someone give that kobold a title and a raise!!!! 🤣🤣🤣💞💞💞

Lilia was wrong when he said Malleus wasn’t ill—what he should have said was; “Malleus, I fear you may have a case of idiotitis.”

STOP STOP THIS IS SO FUNNY 🤣🤣🤣

MALLEUS WISHINF FOR PHONE LINES AND LILIA TEASING HIM

My heart has been healed absjwjshahajdksk

His gaze follows it slowly straight back to Lilia’s scarlet eyes, which watch him with that familiar seriousness eons of experience can bring. When they meet gazes, Lilia’s expression softens to a small yet warm smile as that hand then ruffles Malleus’ hair.

“All will be well,” he hums, and the way that he says almost makes Malleus believe him.

Giggling and kicking my feet, ahhhh to be a malleus and Lilia simp has me going crazy

Giving malleus anxiety is kind of cute because he always wanted to be normal you know?? And who doesn’t feel anxiety over a crush???

The bards!! Believe me malleus you have Lilia to worry about, he’s much worse 🤣🤣

“I’m sure all will be forgiven.” He’ll make sure all will be forgiven. Respectfully.

IM LAUGHING AHNDJSJAJDJSHAH

Malleus once said to himself that loving you was for someone much bolder than he, but that had been a lifetime ago now. That had been when he was a recently broken boy lying on a hospital bed, trying to come back to himself after one of the most traumatic moments of his long life. That had been before his parent’s tomb, before the kobold, before he realized that to get what he wants he needs to be that bold.

He can be bold. He can be brave. He can say this.

“You are... gods. You do something to me. You inspire many feelings in me, and it is so overwhelming that my mind cannot wrap around them all.”

“Let me know you. Make me remember every damn moment so when the inevitable does come, when Death enters our home, I have something to hold onto.” He rasps. There’s a flicker of fire in your eyes but he hardly lets it ignite before he’s surging forward and finishing what you started on Main Street.

Kissing, to his surprise, is not as the books write it to be. His lips collide with your own and your teeth hit as he kisses you hard, like a starved man before a meal. His eyes shut tight and he holds his breath until he feels you respond as your hand releases his wrist to rest on the back of his head instead. His body relaxes against your touch as you both move to find a proper rhythm.

No, kissing is not as the books write it to be, but this isn’t a terrible thing.

When you finally separate from him, he’s all but ready to move in again, only to have you move so that your lips are against the shell of his ear instead. He can’t help but shiver at the sensation as you speak. “Malleus, breathe for a second.”

“Listen carefully.” You begin as your fingers slowly thread through his hair. “I will not be going anywhere for a long time. Yes, I will not live as long as you, but I will live as long as I can for you. You wish to remember every moment, so I’ll give you enough memories that you’ll have a new one for each day you remain beyond me.”

See above meme for my reaction andkahahjwkdndsjjsjs

He is a prince—and heir to a noble bloodline—and you are... well. You. But you are also you, and someone that he’ll go to hell and high water for. Come what may—he will end things with you by his side.

He says your name again, if only to see the warmth in your eyes before he moves in to test his theories about kissing once more.

Elegy

Inc: Malleus x Reader, Lilia, 1 kobold who deserves a raise Warnings: Little bit of angst/crisis, little bit of fear of death, and anxiety WC: 4.3k.... lmao Summary: Sprites are unpaid therapists, guardians are good at catsitting, and a prince has his third life crisis in 1 year. PART 1 | PART 2

The final part of the series!

He did not anticipate ending up in the mausoleum again, and yet it’s as though something had a lure on him from within, which dragged his unwilling body along until the scent of dirt and death took away all his other senses. The crown prince did not shuffle, but he did drag his feet a little as he disturbs the earth, and his gaze moves across the room. The air is stagnant and makes him feel like a burden for stirring it so. 

The last time he came here was when he was a child. He had plenty of opportunity to come back since then, but every time he would look at the dark entrance into this abode, he would feel a terrible sense of fear which would send him scurrying back to his grandmother with his tail between his legs. The fear has since diminished now that he has endured the events at NRC. Although a sense of unease still stirs in his heart, he forces it down as he sits on a stone bench fixated in the middle of the room and looks to the tombs.

His mother and father look back, expressionless and dead-eyed. 

“... hello.” His voice breaks from lack of use as he speaks to the ghosts that linger. He has said scarce few words since his return to Briar Valley for the summer, instead letting his retainers, and servants, and senate do all the talking for him. He clears away the dryness before continuing. “I figured it would be best to quickly visit and check on you. I see the groundskeepers have done well at clearing away the weeds.”

The stone statues offer no response to his comment as he takes in their features. He has inherited much of his mother, and extraordinarily little of his father. He does have Levan’s ears, and his lips, but Meleanor’s eyes and aquiline nose trump these features and demand observers’ attention. His fingers reach up to touch his face as he looks at hers, mapping their features together as he once did when he was younger. 

Then with a sigh, he drops his hands back to his lap and clasps them tightly together. He has come for reasons other then a familial obligation to check on his parents' tombs. His father had been a Duke, only a rank below his mother’s status, and so he isn’t too sure if his plight is even something he can rationalize to them.

Not that they can hear, anyway. His mother is nothing but dust and his father isn’t even in the bloody tomb. 

“I am having,” he begins slowly, before gesturing outwards. “A crisis.”

Well put. He is certain the mice and kobolds listening to him are nodding in their sympathies right now. 

“I am feeling a lot of things that I am not fully understanding, and I would quite rather brick myself up here then talk about them with anyone.” He already had Lilia giving him looks the entire boat ride back to the Valley. That had been two days of seasickness (which he still can’t rationalize how he has) and unbridled guilt eating away in his mind. “But you cannot comment, so I reasoned yours would be the best ears for listening to this.” 

He hears a chattering from somewhere in the back corner and pauses long enough to frown in the noise's direction. Kobolds, indeed. He would need to pass word to the groundskeepers about that. After the noises cease, he turns back to the tombs.

“There is a human who I seem to have developed quite an attachment to.” 

His mother would have cut him off right about here. From what he’s gathered, she was not the biggest fan of humans. His father on the other hand would have shushed her and bade him continue. Malleus finds himself creating very inspiring visuals in his mind of the entire interaction. 

“At the same time, I find myself seemingly paralyzed—”

“Silly rats, make silly hats!” A sharp, rasping voice causes Malleus’ jaw to snap shut and an unamused look to cross his face. The kobolds, again. He looks over his shoulder to see one of the small, gaudy creatures shambling along after a rat, which is scurrying as fast as possible to its nest. The kobold gnashes its sharp teeth while chanting, “Run, rat, run!” 

Malleus exhales through his nose before turning away for a second time now. “As I was saying, seemingly paralyzed at the prospect of doing anything regarding these feelings. I have lied to them numerous times now to remove myself from situations, and a few times I have acted beneath myself in their presence, and yet they have stubbornly remained by my side. They are sympathetic, and they seem to understand, but they are—”

“Rat! Rat!” The kobold’s shrill voice causes Malleus to grit his teeth again before twisting around on the bench. 

“Oh, for gods sake, I am trying to peacefully have a crisis here!” He finally hisses at the creature, which freezes in its place and looks at him with beady eyes. The rat takes this moment to skitter into a hole in one of the tombs. Only when its tail vanishes does the kobold look at where it last was with a forlorn expression. 

“Rat…” It rasps out. Then it looks back to Malleus. “Starving.”

“Aren’t we all?” Malleus grumbles before turning to the tombs again. He barely gets a word in before the kobold has skittered to his side and onto the bench. He can feel the muscle in his jaw twitch as he looks down at the creature. 

“Young master, hm?” It croaks as it begins tugging on his sleeve, likely trying to see if he has anything to offer. Malleus waves a hand and a plate of meat appears, delighting the creature as it begins to eat. 

“Anyway, I am at a loss.” Is what he concludes with as he looks at his parents once more. “My fear holds my tongue and I sense the opportunity of something slipping further away from me. Perhaps I should have remained sequestered in these halls if only to prevent such a cacophony of emotions from erupting in me.” 

“Fear inhibits us.” The kobold rasps as it pauses between bites. It licks its lips with its blackened tongue and looks up to the prince. Kobolds are cunning creatures, even if they may not present themselves as such all the time. This one assists in cleaning the tombs—for a fee. “What does young master fear?” 

“Death.” Malleus replies dryly, entertaining the kobold for now. He’s already treating his dead parents as his therapists—why not add another thing to the mix?

“Inevitable.” The kobold chokes on a piece of meat before correcting itself and continuing to gorge. It pauses between bites to keep speaking, however. “Why fear what is unavoidable? Silly. As silly as my silly rat. Best to live. Best to welcome him into the home when he comes knocking. Bam! Bam!”

The kobold lets out a shrill cackle, which causes Malleus to shake his head.

“I don’t think you understand the delicacy of my situation. Death will not come into my home before it does the home of my present disruptor.” He scoffs. “I already am surrounded by enough silent tombs. I have little interest in adding another.”

“Young master doesn’t know Death’s schedule. Death could be in his home tomorrow. Death could be in his home right now.” The kobold cackles again as it licks the remaining blood from the plate. “Silly to let Death cage you before he is required to.” 

Malleus falls quiet as he watches the kobold. It speaks so plainly to him, pointing out the holes in his mind’s argument. He knows he’s orchestrating this to keep himself safe from the pain of loss, but it feels as though he’s only hurting himself more by withholding from his wants. 

The minds battle with the heart—a war as old as time. 

“Is young master not hungry?” The kobold asks as its black eyes meet with his. It licks away blood from its fingers. “Does young master not wish to indulge? We fae are creatures of indulgences. Silly, to deny nature. Perhaps young master is my silly rat instead.”

It gives a wide, sharp grin, which Malleus returns with a sneer before waving a hand and vanishing the creature to another part of the tomb. The plate clatters onto the bench next to him, and the scent of copper lingers. 

The kobold had a point, and the more he thinks about it, the more the point makes sense. Death could be in his home tomorrow. Death could be in his home right now. Malleus didn’t know when he would go, nor when the Prefect would go. He couldn’t control that—but what he could control is what he could do right now. His fingers tap a pattern on his thigh as he looks at his parents. 

They married during a war. They had him during a war. They lived every day knowing the same thing he does—that Death could be in their home within a few minutes. And yet, they embraced life anyway. They loved, and were loved, and left a legacy behind. 

Hells. 

Hells. 

Lilia was wrong when he said Malleus wasn’t ill—what he should have said was; “Malleus, I fear you may have a case of idiotitis.”

His parents, still together despite one having gone well before the other. You, still by his side despite all that he’s done. 

Malleus swears under his breath before pushing himself to his feet again. He brushes a few stray vines away from the hands of his mother and father, which are carved to be holding each other before moving towards the tomb's exit. He has a letter to write, a mistake to rectify, and an order for a large quantity of meat to be sent to this tomb.

_____________________________________________________

There is nothing as banal and painful as waiting for a reply. Malleus wonders if he should have telephone lines installed all throughout the Valley, if only to save him the agony of waiting for your arrival. His hands are pressed against the glass of the window he leans on for the third time today as his eyes burn holes into the gates down below. He could have sent you a text by now, asking if you’re on your way yet.

Goddamn phone lines.

“I should get the royal painter.” A sly, teasing voice snaps him out of his focus as he looks over his shoulder. Lilia hovers close by—close enough that Malleus wonders how long he’s been here—with a coy glint in his gaze. “This is quite the artistic scene.”

“I am in misery.” Malleus declares as he presses his forehead to the glass. The hard thunk of his scales connecting with it makes Lilia wince briefly.

“And you’re bound to get a migraine if you do that again. Be patient, Malleus. Prefect did say they would be here today.” Lilia pauses. “With Grim in tow.”

Malleus scowls briefly as he turns his head to look to his guardian again. “You are on Grim duty. Go take him to the ponds for an hour or so.”

“Sacrificing those poor fish to that bottomless pit of a stomach...” Lilia sighs and shakes his head in false despondence. “A noble death they shall have.”

Malleus refuses to deign him with a response as he looks back to the gates. A few of the royal guards are pacing their routes, and in the courtyard below he can see the servants rushing through last minute preparations. His declaration that a ‘friend’ was arriving (because he can’t give away his motives too easily) had sent the entire palace into a frenzy. Malleus had never invited someone over, save for Silver, Sebek, and Lilia.

“You won’t be able to see the carriage until it arrives. The bend on the mountain pass certainly makes sure of that.” Lilia drifts over again and frowns out at the scene beyond. “I do think we should set up a mirror in Black Scale. If you intend to invite more people over, then we can’t keep shuttling everyone through The Leaky Pint. The poor bartender will be overwhelmed.”

The Leaky Pint, the only tavern in the town that surrounds Black Scale, serves as both a community hub and a makeshift transport stop. It’s the only building with a magic mirror since the security risks of placing one in the palace were far too great. Lilia’s point of overwhelming the poor bartender had some merit; if Malleus did intend to start inviting more people—or at the very least, one person many times—it would be good to think of alternative routes.

He doesn’t get an opportunity to consider any solutions, however, as the sight of a carriage rounding that very pass captures his attention. He straightens up suddenly—

—and then feels an undeniable sense of anxiety. It plunges to his core, rooting him on the spot and causing a cold sweat to touch his neck. He stares at the carriage as it draws closer, closer, closer. Suddenly he wishes to make some vague excuse again to lock himself in his chambers and only interact with you when surrounded by scores of other people. Not alone. Not like he intended.

“Malleus.” Lilia waves a hand in front of his face. His gaze follows it slowly straight back to Lilia’s scarlet eyes, which watch him with that familiar seriousness eons of experience can bring. When they meet gazes, Lilia’s expression softens to a small yet warm smile as that hand then ruffles Malleus’ hair.

“All will be well,” he hums, and the way that he says almost makes Malleus believe him.

_____________________________________________________

Malleus doesn’t actually get to see you until the evening, which may have been a good thing considering how long it took him to ease his nerves. This is yet another new feeling that you inspire in him—anxiety. He’s anxious if he looks good enough, anxious about how he is to approach this, anxious about what your response will be.

He spent a good portion of time preening in front of his mirror before leaving his chambers, and he isn’t afraid to admit it.

Yet when he finds you, it’s as though all of this build-up of fear and what if’s are wiped from his mind. You’ve been directed to the greenhouse which contains his portion of the rose garden. Years of plantings are blossoming in the warm summer night, filling it with a sweet scent that can lull one into a blissful peace. You’re sitting on a bench, one arm slung over the back and your head looking up at the sky. The glass is clear enough to see the numerous stars that spill across Briar Valley.

That’s one good thing about the lack of modern amenities within his homeland—the light of the celestial is not hidden by the light of man.

You seem lost in your own world, and for a moment he worries it might be intrusive of him to approach, until you finally notice his idling and a warm smile break across your face.

Gods. When the bards learn how your mere look can make the scion of the fae fold, they’ll have material for centuries.

“Well look who finally decided to say hello.” Your tone is teasing as he exhales and approaches, sitting down on the spot next to you—albeit a bit more gracefully. He can feel the heat of your arm near his back. “Lilia dragged Grim off to go fishing or something. Personally, I think nine at night is a weird time for that, but he was very insistent that the best time to catch the largest fish was right now.”

“Was he?” Malleus hums, utilizing this as a means to ease into the conversation he wants to have. “I would trust Lilia’s judgment on the matter. He has been in Briar Valley long enough to know the most ideal times for any activities.”

“I think Grim was just keen on getting more food. He wolfed down his dinner, and then my dinner, and then the dinner of a few others.�� You grimace at the memory. “Reckon I might need to write a few apologies before we leave.”

“I’m sure all will be forgiven.” He’ll make sure all will be forgiven. Respectfully.

The two of you lapse into a moment of silence before you begin launching into how your trip to Briar Valley was, unprompted but certainly appreciated. Malleus listens intently as you regale him of your pilgrimage to the Mirror Chamber at Crowley’s behest (and not because Malleus sent a secondary letter expressing the urgency of your arrival—which meant no two day boat ride). You then detail the arrival to The Leaky Pint, the way you almost missed your carriage because the bartender roped you into helping him, and the several stops you made along the way to take photos—at the carriage drivers’ misery.

As you speak, Malleus finds himself relaxing to the sound of your voice. The way it changes with each emotion you put into your story, as well as the inflections and the quirks it carries. He doesn’t even realize he’s smiling or that you’ve moved closer together until your tale ends with your breathless laughter over Grims behavior during your welcome feast.

“—truly he’ll get us arrested one day. I’d rather it be here, though. At least I know you’d bail me out.” You send him a smirk. “Although I also feel like you’d make me wait a while. Just to keep me on edge.”

“You think me so cruel?” Malleus chuckles softly as he watches you. “I would have you out in a heartbeat, were you to be kept in my cells.”

“How valiant. Be sure to be riding a white horse when you come sweeping to my rescue then, yes?” You laugh and lean back against the bench. Your arm is still draped around the back, still resting against him. Your warmth has crept through his body a bit too efficiently. He feels a burning in his cheeks as he turns his head away.

Another pause of silence falls then, broken by the sound of a distant fountain and an owl calling a mournful song from beyond. He hears you clear your throat as you shift and withdraw your arm.

The absence of your warmth is profound.

“I, um.” You seem to be turning many thoughts over in your mind as he looks at you, waiting for you to continue. “I know this happened a while back now, and maybe bringing this up isn’t the best idea, but the night that you and I were on Main Street together—”

Main Street. You were sitting together quite like you are now, facing each other. His mind had been in turmoil, and your gaze had been on his lips, and it had been too much—at that moment.

“I wanted to ap—”

He cuts you off mid-way through with a swiftly raised hand. The sound of your words catching in your throat and your eyebrow raising dubiously would normally fill him with amusement, but not tonight.

“There are a few things I need to say beforehand.”

Malleus once said to himself that loving you was for someone much bolder than he, but that had been a lifetime ago now. That had been when he was a recently broken boy lying on a hospital bed, trying to come back to himself after one of the most traumatic moments of his long life. That had been before his parent’s tomb, before the kobold, before he realized that to get what he wants he needs to be that bold.

He can be bold. He can be brave. He can say this.

“I was not ill that night, nor are you at fault for that. I was... I am afraid.” He confesses. Your mouth closes and now you wait for him to continue, which he soon does. “You are... gods. You do something to me. You inspire many feelings in me, and it is so overwhelming that my mind cannot wrap around them all.”

Oh, now he feels himself beginning to ramble a bit. This is very uncharacteristic of him. He faults you for this, again.

“I am afraid because I have never wanted something before. Then there you were sitting beside me when I was in that infirmary after everything that happened, and you were just talking about Grim and your day like you did just now, and I,”

He stops again. This is harder than he imagined it to be. He’s usually quite eloquent, and yet right now the words to describe what he wants to say seem to be running paces ahead of him. He shakes his head and looks out to the roses. For a moment, nothing happens, until he feels your warm hand on his arm again and it somehow spurs him to continue.

“You are... a disruptor. I had my entire life planned out before me since birth, and then you came crashing in like a comet, usurping all of that in one fell swoop—and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed your presence by my side during those evening walks, I enjoyed seeing you in Diasomnia, I enjoyed every moment you gave me. Yet that enjoyment was tainted by the fear that those moments would not last forever. You will likely die far before I do, and this thought just sits in my mind whenever we’re together. That this won’t be forever—this won’t last—and it scares me. It scares me.”

Malleus hears his voice break and for a moment he’s startled. His mind wars with his heart again—get control of yourself!—but a stinging in the back of his throat takes him off-guard and his hand flies up to cover his mouth as though in shame.

If it wasn’t intercepted by yours, that is.

“What are you afraid of?” You ask, your voice serious as he finally looks your way. You’re watching him with such focus and such warmth in your eyes that he wants to shrink back, return to his chambers, pretend this never occurred. He doesn’t. Instead, he speaks.

“... you.”

Not death. It had never been death to begin with. What he was afraid of was how much you had come to mean to him, because this was never supposed to happen. You were never supposed to come into his life. You were never supposed to impact him so much, make him want so much.

“Malleus.” Your voice is calm as you hold both of his wrists in your hands. “What do you want right now? What do you need me to do?”

You know he’s shaken which is why you’re letting him control the situation. Your kindness should be sickening, but instead it’s pulling him closer towards you, and in his fit of delirium he speaks.

“Let me know you. Make me remember every damn moment so when the inevitable does come, when Death enters our home, I have something to hold onto.” He rasps. There’s a flicker of fire in your eyes but he hardly lets it ignite before he’s surging forward and finishing what you started on Main Street.

Kissing, to his surprise, is not as the books write it to be. His lips collide with your own and your teeth hit as he kisses you hard, like a starved man before a meal. His eyes shut tight and he holds his breath until he feels you respond as your hand releases his wrist to rest on the back of his head instead. His body relaxes against your touch as you both move to find a proper rhythm.

No, kissing is not as the books write it to be, but this isn’t a terrible thing.

When you finally separate from him, he’s all but ready to move in again, only to have you move so that your lips are against the shell of his ear instead. He can’t help but shiver at the sensation as you speak. “Malleus, breathe for a second.”

Funny words coming from someone who sounds so breathless, but he obliges, resting his face against your shoulder as he does so.

“Listen carefully.” You begin as your fingers slowly thread through his hair. “I will not be going anywhere for a long time. Yes, I will not live as long as you, but I will live as long as I can for you. You wish to remember every moment, so I’ll give you enough memories that you’ll have a new one for each day you remain beyond me.”

Malleus takes in your words slowly. They sink into his mind and his body, and he can feel himself relaxing into your touch. A new memory for each day he outlives you. He can capture those memories, store them in a glass ball so that he may watch them whenever he pleases. You will never truly be gone if you can both make it work.

Semantics dictate that this will be a hard relationship anyway. He is a prince—and heir to a noble bloodline—and you are... well. You. But you are also you, and someone that he’ll go to hell and high water for. Come what may—he will end things with you by his side.

He says your name against your shoulder. Each syllable rolls off his tongue and fills the air like a melody as he withdraws just enough to see your face. You seem surprised—he has never really said your name before—as your hand comes up to wipe his cheek.

Look at him, breaking like a blubbering mess before you over a few reassurances and touches.

He says your name again, if only to see the warmth in your eyes before he moves in to test his theories about kissing once more.

Love is for the lonely.

Love is for fools.

Loving you is precisely how it’s meant to be.