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chernabogs · 2 months ago

Note

“kiss me. take me from this place. ’” for the writing prompt with Lilia and reader 👀👀

I went a bit of a different approach with this where the prompt isn't written in, but is instead what this whole fic builds off of. I couldn't find an appropriate place to put the words based on the content, so I hope this is ok <3

HOOKED

Inc: Lilia, Baul mention, Reader (spoken second person here). Warnings: Heavy discussion of PTSD including a detailed PTSD-attack. Read at your discretion. WC: 2.5k Summary: Many of those who came from the era of Briar Nation before Briar Valley believe the silent suppression approach is both more mindful and correct in terms of etiquette. Lilia is not exempt from this, even when he knows it's a ridiculous belief.

There is a stigma against seeking help that Lilia would argue is the most ridiculous belief to have been ingrained in the older generation. Rather than communicating one’s thoughts and emotions to others, many of those who came from the era of Briar Nation before Briar Valley believe the silent suppression approach is both more mindful and correct in terms of etiquette.

Of course, he’s not exempt to this.

The difference between himself and the rest of his generation is that he’s the largest hypocrite to exist among them. He encourages his children and those nurtured by his hand to speak their thoughts and to be aware of how they feel in the moment. Meanwhile, he’s shoving every stressor he’s experienced into the nooks and crannies of his mind, where they sit and stare at him expectantly as he tries diligently not to look back.

Perhaps in time, he tells himself.

He wasn’t quite aware of the term ‘post-traumatic’ until he heard it spoken of on one of his trips abroad forty years back. By fate, be it cruel or kind, there was a conference occurring in the hotel he was staying at that he took upon himself to quickly visit. Uninvited and for free, of course, but that’s beside the point. At the time glamour still wasn’t as illegal as it is now, and so it didn’t take much concentration for him to conceal the pointed ears and sharp teeth he has to blend in with the crowd of well-dressed folks with degrees too long to remember. That day he played a clinical psychologist, a physician, a biologist, and someone in forensics all in the span of a few hours. It was an exercise in acting he quite enjoyed.

Back to the main focus, though: Post-traumatic, or PTSD, as it would come to be called.

It was new, it was fresh, and it made the pinpricks of discomfort crawl across his skin the more he listened to the psychologist whose name he didn’t recall describe it. Glasses—the man had large, coke-bottle glasses on his face, which kept glinting under the fluorescent glow of the lights while he spoke about the consequences of war on the mind. His hands would wave in the air with each sentence and his glasses kept glinting as the pinpricks grew to daggers until finally Lilia just got up and left the room. He went to the hotel bar, got smashed for the first time in god knows how long, and spent the rest of the night staring at the colourful glasses on the shelves until he was finally asked to leave.

Glasses had described it as presenting in several ways. Recurring dreams (he dreamt of it at least once a week, a dragon’s shriek, and then the sudden nothingness), avoidance of external reminders (he didn’t immediately go back to Wild Rose even when it became accessible), persistent negative beliefs about oneself (no comment), self-destructive behaviour (no comment), sleep disturbances (no comment). If he and Glasses had engaged in a one-on-one conversation for all of a minute he wagers the man would’ve tried to recruit him to be studied.

Glasses did miss the mark on a few things, though. Granted he was basing his work off of a human’s experience in war, not that of a fae like Lilia. Glasses had said that PTSD could make someone feel as though they were trapped in a prison that was their own mind—but prison felt like a very child-friendly way to describe it. To Lilia, it felt more like a fish on a hook. It pierces into his body and pulls at the flesh, ripping into his muscle and making sure it’s the only thing he can think of coherently. Sometimes he’s so numb that he hardly notices it’s there, until something triggers it, makes the string the hook is on yank upwards, and then he isn’t able to do anything because all he’s stuck on is that fucking hook.

Sometimes in the late evening when he finds himself sitting with Baul on the man’s porch there will be a sound—a twig snapping, a tree falling—that will make both of them tense and look around. Their eyes will meet, an unspoken look of understanding will be shared, and then it’s back into the next topic of conversation. Maybe if he told someone he was caught, if either of them told someone, they’d be able to wiggle that hook free. But that’s not mindful or correct in terms of etiquette, isn’t it?

Perhaps in time, he tells himself.

_________________________________________

It’s because the sky is blue.

It’s the simplest, most common thing in the entire world that never changes no matter what occurs. The sea changes colour, the leaves change colour, the earth changes colour, but the sky somehow consistently stays blue.

He’s been having a bad week, and he knows you can tell because he hasn’t been poking fun at you as often. He hasn’t felt like gaming, he hasn’t felt like socializing as much, and he’s been going for walks more than usual. His boys can tell as well—the close scrutiny Silver has had him under is almost endearing—but they also know better than to react too much.

You don’t. He likes you mainly because you know barely anything about him. You’re not as aware as his boys may be. You don’t know the Right General: the man who destroyed armies and fucked up on the biggest task he was given (in his mind, at least). You know Lilia: the vice Housewarden of Diasomnia who hangs upside down in hallways and plays screamo on a guitar.

He's also developed a bit of a soft spot for you.

Well. Perhaps more than a bit, but that’s semantics.

This is also why he doesn’t say no when you invite him to go into town with you for a few errands. It’s a simple task that he’s done with you many times before, but today it feels like a huge commitment he isn’t sure he should have done. This is because he can feel it tugging in his head—the gentle pull of a thread that’s done before whatever is on the hook is yanked up to the surface. He’s trying hard to ignore it, trying hard to focus on your voice as his hand taps his thigh and he keeps looking around the woodland path.

“—and so, Ace is paying for it, because he was the one that went and dumped the grape juice on it in the first place.” You look down at the red-stained garb in your arms as you frown. His gaze goes to it only for a moment before he hums and looks away again.

“How much of a fight was it to get him to agree to that?” He asks, pushing to keep the conversation going and to keep you talking so that he has something to focus his attention on. The trees around you feel both familiar and foreign in this moment. “If I recall correctly, our dear Ace is as good at negotiating as Azul when it comes to his own money.”

You give a laugh at that which allows a brief blanket of warmth to drape itself on his shoulders. “Combined with Deuce, we managed to get him to agree quickly enough. I don’t think dry cleaning costs that much though, so it isn’t like this is going to break his bank.”

“Ah, you would be surprised.” A smile touches on his lips which still doesn’t quite reach his eyes as you both continue walking. You direct the conversation to other matters going on around the school and he falls into an attentive silence, letting you talk away so he can focus on your voice.

It’s when you step out of the forest and into a meadow clearing, when his eyes inadvertently go upwards to look at the blue sky, that the world shuts off. The sky had been like this—clear and blue—right before it had all gone to shit. Sunny, slightly cooler, with the sounds of a thousand bodies moving and the heady scent of grease in the air. He can see the glinting of light (glinting like Glasses had been), he can feel the tension grow in his body, taste saliva and copper in his mouth. In a manner of a few seconds, he’s sucked up out of the forest around NRC and into a sub-level of his own personal hell where he’s now sitting and watching all of his mistakes play back.

He's fighting against that hook. He’s squirming, wiggling, and biting as it pulls him all around. The world is black. He’s sitting on a silver chair and there’s a television in front of him and it’s playing that day at Wild Rose as the sky becomes a thunderous grey. He wants to scream and change the channel, but the hook has pierced the back of his head and is jutting out of his mouth. He can’t speak, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but watch as the same shit happens again and again and—

“—Lilia?”

His head turns as much as the hook allows. He can taste the rust from it as it stays in his mouth, but his eyes go wide when he sees you in the corner. The hum of television static and his quick breathing are all the sounds he can hear as you stand there in those shadows. Something garbled leaves his lips. You move a few steps closer, close enough that the light of the television reflects on your features, which wear a mask of your own fear as you kneel by his side.

You shouldn’t be here. You weren’t there, not when it was all unfolding, so you shouldn’t be in the same basement of horrors he’s currently in.

Your hand rests on his arm. It’s as though a thousand needles erupt where your skin touches and he recoils in that chair, jerks to the side, and causes that hook to split more skin. You move back quickly, and he can see what he thinks might be panic on your face.

“What can I do?” You ask. It’s such a simple question and he wishes so deeply to tell you an answer but what can you do? What can he do? It isn’t mindful or correct in terms of etiquette, right? He shakes his head. Panic turns to a touch of worry, of frustration, as you move to sit cross-legged beside his chair.

“I... don’t know what’s going on.” You say slowly. He listens as he forces his breathing to regulate. The dim hum of static is still coming from the right side of him as he keeps looking down at you. “But I’m going to sit right here, okay? I’m going to sit right here until you can tell me what I can do to help. And if there’s nothing I can do, then at least I can keep you company until you’re ready.”

Ready? Company?

He keeps looking down at you until he finally turns his head back to the television where those scenes are still playing. Beyond the television, he can see the outline of trees forming in the dark room.

The two of you sit there for what feels like an extraordinarily long time. The hook has stopped tugging, and the trees are becoming more visible in the darkness as the show comes to an end. He can hear birds chirping past the static, he can smell woodland instead of grease. He isn’t tasting rust anymore. A small, strangled hum leaves him, which catches your attention.

“Yeah?” You ask, scooting forward on the floor beside him to look up at his face. You’re so goddamn endearing when you look up like that, and he hates that you’re in this room with him right now. He needs to leave because he needs to get you out of here as well. You barely know anything about him, and he isn’t ready to ruin the perceptions you have quite yet.

“Can I touch you?” You ask.

“Yes,” is what he manages to choke back beyond the hook.

You stand back up and your hand comes to rest on his cheek. He doesn’t feel daggers like he did before, but he does still tense, which makes you stop again. A heartbeat passes before you lean down so your lips are by his ear.

“Breathe,” you whisper, and he does.

“Focus,” you whisper, and he does.

“Come back,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his temple, and he does.

The television shuts off and is pulled back into the shadows by something he can’t quite see yet, but he feels he will come to meet very soon. The chair he sits on vanishes and is replaced by a rock with a bubbling creek at his feet. The hook unlatches itself and is reeled back up for another day. It’s like he’s waking up from a dream as a groggy feeling settles over him.

Neither of you speak for a long moment as he continues to sit on the rock and your hand moves to rest on his back. A sense of embarrassment forms in his chest that he knows shouldn’t be there, but it exists anyway. Embarrassment, shame, and heavy, heavy exhaustion. His tongue licks his dry lips as he clears his throat to speak.

“How long?” He asks.

“It’s been an hour.”

An hour. That feels shorter than usual as he rolls his shoulders and gets to his feet. His hands are trembling slightly, and he appreciates you not mentioning it despite the way your gaze lingers on them.

He turns to you as he shoves them in his pockets, and he forces his lips into a smile. It’s a good thing he’s an expert at fake smiles to the point that he does this without a thought. “Do you mind if I...?”

“Not at all.” You reply quickly, grabbing your stained clothing from the ground. When you rise, you look worried. For a moment he fears that you may ask what just happened right now—but you don’t. You just offer him a slight smile back and hold your clothes a bit tighter. “Will you text me when you get back?”

“Yes,” he replies automatically, feeling a bud of relief blossom in his chest when you nod and step back onto the path. This is immediately replaced by guilt. “Thank you.”

The words feel dead and heavy on his tongue, despite the way they seem to soothe your own anxiety.

“Always.” You murmur in response as he watches your gaze linger on him a moment longer. He so wishes to ask you to stay, to explain to you what this all was, but he stills the words in his throat.

He likes you mainly because you know barely anything about him. You’re unaware of his past, much like his boys, and your perception of him is one he’s carefully gifted to you himself. The abruptness of this attack may have broken a crack in the pristine image which unsettles him.

He isn’t ready to discuss it yet. Not with you, not with his boys, not even Baul. He’s the largest hypocrite to exist for a good reason.

He continues to watch you until you vanish back into the forest, and it’s only with your departure that he finds himself able to breathe properly. The back of his skull aches and all he wants right now is to go to sleep for a few hours. His smile drops to a grimace as he turns and begins to go in the direction opposite of you.

Perhaps in time, he tells himself.

#lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #twst #twst fic #twisted wonderland fic #lilia vanrouge x reader #twst x reader #thank youuuuu

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bitethedustfools · 2 months ago

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TWST Story Idea (17)

Yuu's Misadventure in Twisted Wonderland

A lonely coffin lay in the middle of nowhere. It was glazed in a black hue, and elegant golden patterns decorated the lid. Along the designs, a keyhole rested in the middle, while a mirror was positioned where the face would be.

Despite being called a mirror, it strangely emitted a dull white light, flickering like a dying firefly amidst the darkness. Then, without warning, the lid rattled loudly.

Thud, thud, thud!

Someone was trying to open the lid of the coffin to no avail. The lid was too tightly shut, barely a crack could be seen, even though the person inside had been kicking and slamming it with all their strength.

That person screamed for help, crying and begging to be saved and let out of this endless darkness. There was even panting inside as anxiety set in, knowing that the oxygen was limited.

And then—

Bam!

The lid finally slammed open, and a figure sat up with a gasp, taking in big breaths like someone who had nearly drowned.

Their hair was in disarray, their face messy from crying and sweating. Blood smeared their swollen hands, used to try to slam the door open.

Yuu was finally free.

However, they did not know where they were. There were only trees as far as the eye could see, and what seemed to be a track made by a carriage near the coffin.

Why were they in a coffin? Why was there even a carriage in this place and time? Did they fall off? But then why didn’t anyone come to retrieve them? Wait, isn't this human trafficking?

Though baffled and confused by the state they were in, Yuu ultimately decided to seek help and began following the path.

If only they had picked the right way, they would have ended up at NRC, and their new life—though chaotic—would have been better than the other path. But they were slowly heading somewhere else.

Everything went wrong from there.

Yuu learned that this was not the place they were familiar with. The buildings were colorful, each following a certain theme. The people were handsome and pretty, and their hair had various shades as though dyed, but it wasn’t. Somehow, Yuu could sense that it looked natural.

Ironically, Yuu, who looked the plainest, stood out the most among them. The people were alarmed to see a foreign child with dried blood on their hands and a shabby appearance, like a fugitive.

Yuu ran the moment they felt a sense of dread bubbling in their belly. Any attempts at communication failed, not because the people didn’t want to listen or understand, but because they couldn’t understand each other’s language.

This was where Yuu learned about magic. In the midst of running away, they were taken off guard by magic that obstructed their movement and, therefore, were taken to the court of the Queen of Hearts.

(Insert drama here. Will it go like Alice in Wonderland or take a different plot? How will Yuu be treated? No thoughts about Yuu being from a different world since they don’t understand each other’s language.)

Yuu somehow escaped. Finally nourished by the food provided by the jailers, they wandered without direction, only stopping to sleep in the wild with no shelter. The fear of waking up in the Queendom of Roses terrified Yuu.

And then, they entered a new place…

-----

Yuu’s situation involved going to new areas like the Shaftlands, the Scalding Sands, and other regions, encountering all sorts of dangers and predicaments. Some people were kind to Yuu, while others were not.

(Extra points if higher-ranking people, like Leona’s family or Malleus’s grandmother, take a liking to Yuu. Bonus points if Yuu becomes a therapist or friend to the family members of NRC students.)

Yuu took on different roles each time, often the most difficult ones, like a prisoner, a lab rat, a servant, and more.

Yuu’s luck was atrocious, leading them to some of the hardest places to get into on Twst, like the Briar Valley, the Coral Sea, and the Isle of Woe.

There was even a time when Yuu nearly got taken by the Playful Land and almost converted into one of their puppets. But their luck was also unusually good, as they managed to escape each situation—though not without suffering.

Due to their time in the wild and the language barrier, Yuu became a bit feral.

Their final destination would be NRC, where Yuu showed pure animosity toward Dire Crowley. They also met Grim in the wilderness before attending NRC. Because of Yuu's personality, Grim reluctantly became their pet therapy companion and was allowed to attend alongside them.

#disney twst #twst grim #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst yuu #yuu #writing prompt #writing ideas #fic ideas #Angst and comedy everywhere #Yuu's life is terrible in NRC?#Dont worry I gotchu #lets make it more harder for Yuu

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year ago

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The First Fairy Tale

ahdbalidbaidf I'M SUCH A SUCKER FOR UNREQUITED KNIGHT X PRINCESS STUFF (even if it's not clear whether or not Lilia's crush persisted beyond childhood in canon) SO. I'M WRITING THIS… 😭This fic is purposefully ambiguous about the type of love Lilia feels in the end for Meleanor. It’s up to the reader to interpret it as they please. This piece was inspired the story of Madame Red from Black Butler. You don't need to know either to enjoy, but if you do happen to know them then I think you'll appreciate it more. There’s also some references to a few Disney films besides Sleeping Beauty—can you find which ones? I also purposefully repeated some phrases and blended a few references together to give the fic a “dream-like”/deja vu feeling. There was going to be a wedding scene opening with “There wasn’t a cloud in the sky” in reference to We Don’t Talk About Bruno, but I had to cut that since the fic was getting long. Even without that and some other cut scenes, I think this is the longest fic I’ve written before. It’s almost 8k words!!

... Do you remember? I told my first fairy tale to you, my most beloved. ***Spoilers for book 7 part 5 of the main story!***

Imagine this...

In a castle forgotten by time, a lone figure walked among the creeping thorns. The plants swallowed the grounds, yet he moved swiftly and stealthily, passing over briar as easily as water over stone. Not a single movement was wasted as he traversed the brambled floors.

His ponytail—black streaked with red—fell in his path, the slight whip of it the only trace of his presence. He had traded his battle armor of old for plainclothes long ago, but still hadn’t filled into them yet. To shed the life of a general for that of a civilian was no simple task.

The small, doughy creature pressed against his shoulder sleepily lifted its head. Upon the infant’s crown was a cap of shockingly silver hair, the same color as moonlight. The boy thrusted a pudgy hand into his cheek, delivering a soft pap to the hardened veteran.

“Tch…!” Lilia pulled away brusquely. “Troublesome little creature, aren’t you? Hold still. We’d have made it out of here by now if only you weren’t so…”

Weak, defenseless, frail, vulnerable.

An array of potential words rose to fill in the gap. He settled on the least abrasive one he could muster.

Something cute.

Children like cute, right…? Right.

“… squishy.”

The infant—no, Silver, he corrected himself—seemed curious about the response, staring up with sudden interest. Lilia’s skin prickled at the sensation. He averted his eyes to an interior that had seen better days.

Once a shining jewel to house the crown princess, Wild Rose Castle was abandoned now. The thorns had invaded, climbing the walls and digging themselves into every nook and crevice. Furniture and weapons devoured, flags and tapestries consumed, meeting a similar fate as the nation that had once proudly flew them.

Ruins entombing stolen time.

What had once been a palace teeming with history, with life, was left a barren wasteland. All that remained were shadows of the past which clung thickly to the thorns. One misstep, and they would cut into him, bringing both pain and searing hot memories.

Funny, that: how the natural forces were unrelenting and indiscriminate. Yet the trace of an enchantment in the air suggested otherwise, its telltale tingle palpable. He knew the bramble had come from magical means.

A fairy's spell lingered. Some bygone blessing or curse, told in the tattered remains of a hazy vision and a wish for more halcyon days. Parents wanting to spare their child from the horrors of war.

Lilia's grip on Silver subconsciously tightened.

What rotten luck. I return after all this time to pay my respects, only to find Wild Rose Castle in this sorry state. How the mighty fall.

Silver fidgeted in his arms, as if sensing that something was off. A bit of saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth, a soft whine gurgling up.

“You’re fussing again already?” Lilia frowned. He awkwardly laid a hand on the infant’s back. Are all infants this incorrigible? "The journey will be a long one if you aren't able to settle."

The infant turned its head, his cheek fitting neatly into Lilia's palm. There was a coo, then a sigh of contentment.

Still shaking off the sleepiness.

"... You're so needy," Lilia grumbled, noting the drool wetting his skin. Silver blinked at him with large, iridescent orbs. "I don't understand. Do people actually find this endearing? To find such joy in raising their young is..."

He hesitated to finish his sentence.

What did a man like him have to say on the matter? Long-lived as he was, that kind of love was something he had ever experienced for himself.

A gentle, warm hand to guide him through the darkness. The love of a parent.

Yet here I am, a loveless fae robbing a baby from its cradle. Just as the humans believe we do.

What irony.

Sadness nipped at Lilia as his thoughts turned to Silver. If anything, the little one had more power to shape the world around it than he ever could.

It was for this sort of creature that the Dawn Knight made a prayer for the future. It was for this sort of creature that Baul's rigid heart shifted. It was for this sort of creature that she...!!

Lilia's fingers had clenched into a vice grip on Silver. The infant cried out, squirming uncomfortably in his new guardian's grasp.

"Shoot...!! Er... there, there. It will be alright."

He clumsily rocked the baby back and forth. It was too vigorous, for Silver bursted into tears. His wails echoed off the desolate walls of the castle, piercing loud in Lilia's ears.

The fae jerked back, holding Silver at a safe distance from him. His grasp, precarious.

This is proving to be much more challenging than I initially thought... H-How do I silence it?!

Lilia glanced around helplessly at his surroundings. Everything was encased in a cage of thorns: antiques, drapes, even the axes mounted for decoration—to liven up the room. They were impossible for him to reach, else he could swing them around to amuse the boy.

Pieces of the past far out of his reach.

It’s not an option. A human babe is not like a fae babe. Lilia’s head swarmed with stress, Silver’s sobs only multiplying his worries. What do I do? What… would she do?

Meleanor…

The name of his princess emerged. Along with it, a scene blossoming in sepia shades.

Her, in a regal black gown and dripping in green gemstones and finery. Him, in a general's armor. A princess and her knight, straight out of a fairy tale.

She was humming while caressing a large egg, a marbled violet flecked with green, dark webbing laced the shell. It conformed perfectly to her chest, pulsating with a strange warmth as she ran taloned fingers over it. Another role she had adopted: mother.

A low chuckle rose from the back of her throat. "Fufufu Look, Malleus. Our dear Lilia has taken the time out of his busy schedule to come pay us a visit."

"It's been quite some time since I last heard you giggle like a schoolgirl. Nice to know that you remain in good spirits." He arched an eyebrow. "... But since when did you decide to name the child? I thought the medical mages hadn't even determined a gender for your heir yet."

"Oh, some time ago," she replied flippantly. Meleanor was always like a storm, unpredictable and acting on her own whims. "I don't need anyone to tell me what my child will be. I already know... my Malleus will grow up to be an upstanding, beautiful man just like my Raverne."

She had a dreamy, faraway look on her face. A slight blush to her high cheeks, a shine to her eyes, a kind smile at her lips. Completely unlike her, the tomboy who snuck out of the castle unsupervised and caused trouble for all the servants.

So utterly smitten.

For that moment and that moment alone, Lilia would have believed her a patient princess awaiting a knight in shining armor's rescue. Not him, but her beloved.

Raverne.

He had to bite back a terse laugh, mask it with a joke. "Your Raverne? Hold on now, you've got to share him with the rest of us. We'd simply crumble without his wisdom."

"I don't intend to share what's rightfully mine.” A teasing smirk he knew well had found its way onto her pert mouth again. “I'm a very possessive woman.”

"As I’m well aware. Alas, I serve such a cruel mistress of evil.”

She chuckled, resting a hand on her egg. "... When Raverne returns, we shall arrange for tea. The two of you can regale me with the stories of your journeys. It gets to be so dull trapped in these castle walls. Oh, and of course, Malleus will be joining us. He has yet to experience our cozy little get-togethers.”

Their group. Their trio. The three of them. And now a new member. An expansion of the family unit—no, rather, the realization that something didn’t belong among them.

His heartbeat quickened.

"There you go again, making rash requests of me. You really ought to be more considerate of others. I came all this way out of the goodness of my heart, only for you to bark more orders at me. Don't I get to take a break?"

"I am being considerate," she insisted. "I'm considering Malleus. He is invited. You cannot uninvite him."

"That's not the point. Agh, what am I going to do with you?" Lilia ran a hand through his hair. The frustration was familiar—but so was the fondness that chased it.

“My, my. Such insolence. I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with me for a long, looong time. You should be less stubborn and more kind to your princess,” she purred, her words touched with dry sarcasm. “Isn’t that right, Malleus?”

“I’m too kind to you. Too patient as well,” Lilia sighed. “… It’s you who is headstrong.”

“I must be. I have a country and now a family behind me. A scorned mother’s rage is insurmountable, you know.”

He should have said something back. Played into their usual banter. But he didn’t—couldn’t bring himself to. Lilia looked away quickly, but not quite quickly enough.

“Oh? What nerve you have to avoid the gaze of your princess.” She dropped her playful tone. “Something weighs heavy on your mind.”

“… I can never hide anything from you, can I?”

“You will inform me at once.”

“So you can obliterate what ails me?”

“So that I may put you at ease." She lifted a hand, gesturing toward him. "That is the duty of a queen to her people… and, more importantly, of a friend to another."

Friend.

It stung right down to his bones, hurting more than a blast of righteous lightning. A reminder of what he was: a footnote, a supporting cast member in her grand story. Without that, he was nothing.

An outcast.

His stomach clenched. He forced down a bitter pill and spoke.

"I was just wondering what it must feel like to be in your position, Meleanor-sama," Lilia whispered. "Mother to a nation, and to a child. To wholly devote oneself to the service of others... I will never know what that is like."

At this, she laughed darkly. "I am strong. I have to be, because I have people to protect. You have that strength as well. You wouldn't be able to serve as one of my generals without it. There are just some things in this world worth risking your life for, hmm?"

"I don't understand. My loyalty will always lie with you, with Briar Country... but for a child, I cannot...!!" Lilia stopped himself, reining his emotions back to calm. "I've never known how that kind of love feels. I'm not capable of it."

Meleanor narrowed her eyes as she listened to his woes. Unwise men would think her contemplative. He knew better—she was scheming.

"... Let me tell you a secret, Lilia," she said at last. "A dragon's egg needs its parents' love to hatch. However, true love is a special spell. It's more powerful than any magic, and able to be cast by anyone. If you are able to protect me, then that alone is proof enough that you are capable of 'true love'."

"You make it sound so simple, but is it really like that? The children of man say that fae cannot tell an untruth, yet you so expertly reassure me with lies."

"You're questioning me? Laughable. I am a woman of my honor, unlike you with all your tall tales."

"They're not tall tales. They're real stories of the danger I was in. Danger that, mind you, I got in half the time on behalf of your demands."

"Is that so?" Meleanor had smiled at him then, her teeth gleaming in the dim candlelight. Long lashes fluttering against the emeralds of her eyes. "Then you wouldn't mind sharing a story or two with Malleus."

Lilia bristled at the thought, an old wound reopened. There was a burst of relief that accompanied the dull pain.

I can't sing her lullabies. I don't have her strength either. No partner to speak of, no family to look to. What I do have is...

He pressed Silver into him, keeping a hand rested reassuringly on the infant's upper back. Muffled cries and a warm wetness pooled on Lilia's shoulder. His steps slowed, coming to a steady pace.

The first words were the most difficult to get out.

"... Once upon a time, there was a princess living in this castle." His voice was slow and deep and sorrowful. Not a song, but a longing croon for days he could never return to.

They entered a corridor lined with paintings. The sound of Silver's sobbing funneled into the passage, a greeting to the dour faces of important officials portrayed in each frame. Horned, with raven hair and reptilian eyes, obsidian scales dotting their skin, milky and smooth as wax.

Lilia lowered his head to one as they passed--a woman upon a throne, scepter in hand, her pointed features dappled by moonlight.

"She was many things. Selfish, impetuous, and stubborn… but also brave, strong, and beautiful."

So beautiful.

That had been his first impression of her. A single pale rose amid a garden of thorns.

She was tiny in those days, still trotting about in small, polished heels that clicked with each step, her black dress swishing about. A scaled tail—fluffy at the end--poked out from under there, proof of dragonic heritage. Her long hair was slicked back, proudly displaying a pair of horns and the scales that crowned her forehead.

When she wailed, the skies turned stormy. When she beamed, the sun came out. Her expressions so lively as she spun around in her skirts, the fabric unfurling like the petals of a blossoming flower.

A princess both adored and feared by her people.

"She befriended an unruly ragamuffin.” Lilia's lips quirked, unable to fight them from tugging up. “He was without loved ones, so the princess extended a hand to him."

Lilia had stolen glances at her when he was convinced she was distracted. During royal processions, tending to the horses, when they crossed paths in the halls.

He never let himself stare for too long. To do so was nearly a death sentence. The guards would be upon him in an instant—or worse, she would.

But without doubt, she did.

She would look back, letting a telltale grin take shape when their gazes met.

Him, the nobody picked up by the royal family on a whim. A hopeless squire boy, a knight-in-training, a ward.

Him.

She noticed him.

Picking up her skirts, she'd made a beeline over. Grinning like a gremlin, she would inevitably set a tragedy into motion.

"Lilia, I'm sick of studying! Let's play instead."

"What? I don't want to. Besides, I have training to tend to."

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport. That's an order from your princess, so you can't refuse!"

“And that's the way the story always goes, a princess and her knight." He passed a glance at Silver. The infant's crying had quieted, and he returned the look, eyes wet with wonder.

Lilia sighed. "... I guess you wouldn't know that, would you? Well, it’s not as though she were your average girl.

"A wicked princess, that’s what she was. There was not a day when she wasn't making mischief and pulling the knight into it with her."

She had had many games, not all of them clearly defined or with rules. Sometimes she changed them on the fly. Sometimes she played without guidelines at all.

Pretend escalated into full-scale magical duels. Scavenger hunts spanned the entire castle grounds. They’d race to see who could relieve the gallery of the most apples in the least amount of time, dig through the treasury for the biggest gems.

On particularly lazy days, a roll across the lawn was enough to amuse them. Petals were plucked, sugary honeysuckle trapped between their teeth.

"You have something stuck in your hair," she'd tease him, picking loose petals out. "Let me get that for you, my most loyal retainer."

He'd hold still, as commanded, let her take as long as she wanted tidying him up.

When the guards combed the garden for them, they’d squish into shrubbery and lay low until the coast was clear. Sometimes their lids would grow heavy and collapse—and when they roused, stars had spilled into the sky, and they’d count constellations until the morning.

Starlight dappling her noble face, her fiery spirit ablaze.

How many diplomatic meetings had they crashed? How many ancient items had they broken? How many headaches had they collectively caused?

Lilia chuckled faintly.

… Those were the good old days.

He continued down the path laid before him, the paintings seemingly chugging along in slow succession. Both people and time passing him by.

"There was another as well. A clever, kind-hearted duke who also warmed up to the knight. The three of them formed a most formidable group.”

“Are you two at it again? You never stop, do you?”

The voice came from the top of the stairwell.

"Raverne. So good of you to join us," Meleanor said breathlessly—she had been running about. She slicked back a strand of glossy raven hair and beamed toothily. It wasn't the smile of a princess, but of a dragon yet to be tamed.

He quirked a brow. "Am I joining you? Whoever said that?"

“If you’re jealous, no need to play coy," she teased as the Dragon Duke descended the stairs. "You’re welcome to join us anytime.”

"The princess has already roped me into her antics," Lilia sighed. "Why not make it a party of three? We can all get scolded together later. Misery loves company."

"A tempting offer." Raverne lazily tilted his head to one side. He always had a languid way of moving, like a curtain of night veiling the day. "I think you've got me convinced."

"Why did you agree when Lilia asked and not when your princess did?" Meleanor demanded, stomping a foot.

Raverne shrugged. Effortless, defiant. "Perhaps you're not as charming as you think you are."

Any other person would have faced her wrath. Anyone else would have been forced to tango with lightning.

Not Raverne. He was too hard to stay mad at, and too easy to forgive. His presence alone smoothed over tensions, settled storms.

“He’s a dreamer,” the dusty old court advisors would remark with disdain.

“He’s a dreamer,” Lilia would say, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“He’s a dreamer,” Meleanor would sigh, the stars in her eyes.

Now, she just smirked at him. "I'll have to demonstrate to you just how charming I can be."

She had looked at Raverne differently in that instant. Her eyes did not glint at the sight of new prey to toy with, but with keen interest. There was something else too, an undercurrent of some tender feeling Lilia couldn't quite place.

Meleanor had never looked at Lilia like that.

Only Raverne.

He shook his head.

I should have known then... I was fighting a losing battle.

"With time, they grew ever closer. Unexpected feelings arose. The knight came to love the princess.” Lilia's feet came down upon the bramble that knitted over the floor. He could not feel it through his boots, but it felt as though he was still being pierced in the chest.

Silver blinked as Lilia plodded along. The gentle rise and fall drying his tears.

It had been a heady spring day, another escapade dodging servants and sneaking beyond the gardens. The flowers had blossomed, the same as the princess. She had grown lovelier by the day, her spitfire attitude untempered.

His flower of evil.

They were crossing a brook then, Meleanor lifting up her skirts to float to the other side, Lilia hopping on rocks to cross. He could have flown with her if he tried, but he was feeling cocky, had wanted to shown off the fruits of his training.

One misstep, and Lilia went flying forward, crashing into her. Their bodies collapsed against one another's as they roll, roll, rolled into a field, blades of grass and stray petals collecting on them. When they at last came to a stop, they laid on their lacks and laughed until their lungs hurt.

Lilia had stared at her again. Her smile, a powerful spell. She caught him in the act, demanded what he was looking at.

"You have something stuck in your hair," Lilia told her as they sat up. "Let me get that for you, my most benevolent princess."

"Stop stealing my lines," she giggled back.

Only if you stop stealing my heart first, he thought. But Meleanor was selfish, and once she had claimed something as her own, she refused to return her new treasure.

Lilia reached--and produced a single white daisy between his fingers. Kneeling, he offered the token to her. "Here. For you."

"Prankster. You planted that so you could appear impressive," Meleanor chuckled, accepting it. "... However, the gesture is sweet, so I thank you for it."

She held the flower to her nose and inhaled its scent. Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, lips brushing the velvet-soft petals of the daisy. Wind weaving its hands through jet back hair, spots of sunshine dancing across her.

The entire universe was conspiring against him, it seemed.

He remained kneeling, remembering his place. Him, the knight. Her, the princess. But if that was the case, then weren't they perfectly suited for a fairy tale?

Lilia steeled his courage and let the words he had been holding in all that time loose. "M-Meleanor-sama! I... I like you. Not just as a friend. More than that. P-Please accept my feelings!"

Rare surprise dashed her beauty. A crack of light, dawn chasing away the darkness. “Lilia...?"

Here was his weakness, more terrifying than any enemy their country had faced. One young lady, and he folded like a paper crane. His heart in her hands.

And she squeezed.

"I'm not sure if I enjoy this joke. What we had before... I liked that."

More delicate than he had ever heard her speak. Like she was afraid of breaking this.

"This isn't a joke. I'm... I'm serious about you! Please answer me!!" he pleaded. "Will you be mine?"

At once, her face fell. The daisy, and his heart, slipped from her grasp.

"Oh, Lilia," she whispered, a hand clamped over her mouth. "I'm sorry. So, so, sorry."

A resounding rejection, chased by a dreadful loneliness. It had been nothing like the storybooks had promised. Lilia almost wanted to weep at his juvenile naivete.

He hushed, the awareness of it all consuming him.

So this is love.

Love, and the lack of it. How it hurt him so, as it had from had the start. He was always alone, no matter how many people he surrounded himself with.

Was that really love then?

The thought struck him like a fist to the gut.

I thought I loved you. But maybe that wasn’t true love. Maybe I was desperate to be loved back. To have someone to call my own, when I had no one at all before. Maybe I clung to the first person that showed the slightest bit of attention to me.

Even so, my heart ached for you. Longed for you. Believed it was meant to be. Dreamt of you. I wanted to give you my everything.

Lilia tucked the infant’s cheek to his chest. Felt the child’s warmth, his physical presence. The steady drum of something buried deep in him.

There was a wobbly yawn in the silence. Silver, tuckered out from crying, awaited the next part of the story.

The breath Lilia held released. The words, painful as they dropped from his lips.

“But she had eyes for another: the duke. The knight watched as his two best friends fell in love.” Lilia’s nails dug into the cloth that swaddled Silver. “The princess and the duke were happy, so the knight, too, was happy. And why wouldn’t he be? The woman he loved the most was going to marry the man he loved the most. It was a happy ending for the trio."

He had been summoned by the princess that fateful day. Returning triumphant from the battlefield, adrenaline running high, he hadn’t even bothered to make himself presentable first. His hair was a mess, his armor stained with the remains of slain foes.

She waited for him beyond the door.

“Melea… Oh.”

His princess was seated beside Raverne. She clung to his arm like a vine on a trellis, beaming like the moon on a cloudless night. Meleanor was drunk on the Dragon Duke.

He had never seen her so happy.

“Lilia! You’re here at last,” she called, waving him over. “Just in time.”

He glanced from her to Raverne. “In time for what?”

“For our exciting announcement.” Meleanor wasn’t looking at him. Instead, she gazed adoringly at the man beside her. Somewhat shy. “Would you like to tell him? Or should I? Ooh, this is quite exciting."

Raverne smiled softly—but Lilia could sense the slight discomfort in his eyes, the way they darted to his. Guilty acknowledgement, an awareness of betrayal.

I'm sorry, he seemed to say.

Lilia’s blood ran cold.

“I think you ought to tell him,” Raverne suggested. His voice was gentle, but they felt like a slash to the throat, cutting deep.

Then Meleanor announced it, unable to contain the secret any longer. "We're getting married!!"

She showed her left hand. The flash of the silver band upon her fourth finger was unmistakable. A ring, binding them with a promise.

Together forever, those two.

Lilia’s world violently tilted. The castle crumbling, the sky collapsing around him. Yet he, the trained soldier, dug his feet in and stood his ground.

You've been bested. Admit it. Admit defeat...!!

He said the only word he could.

"Congratulations."

Lilia could make out the light at the other end of the tunnel now. The world beyond the walls and castle corridors. He knew the end of the story was fast approaching, and how it would sap his strength, his will to fight on.

Still, he continued.

“The new couple were soon expecting a baby. Someone much like yourself.” Lilia prodded at Silver’s flabby chin. “You’ll be graced with his presence soon enough. The princess’s legacy, Malleus Draconia… My responsibility these past 160 years.”

Silver gurgled.

“So enthusiastic. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Lilia softly chided. “We fae and humans…”

… can never hope to understand each other.

"We fae and humans can understand each other," Raverne would have countered him. "We can make it a reality."

Tiny hands wrapped around Lilia’s finger. His touch, fragile.

You can afford to be hopeful. It drew a bitter chuckle from his handler. Brief reprieve before the plummet into something deeper and darker than the night that guarded them.

“… In a period of great unrest, the duke went missing. The princess was beside herself with worry—yet she remained stalwart for her people, and for their child. She wished every night for her husband to come home safely.”

They had magical might, but the humans had numbers. Each battle, an exchange of hard blows, casualties high on both sides. Reports rolled in as frequently as bodies did.

The people grew concerned, and so she had donned her mask to reassure them. Stoney faced and strong atop her tower.

“We will recover the missing couriers. We will secure our land and resources. We will beat back the outsiders. Briar Country will rise victorious in the war. Man will rue the day they came upon our shores. This, I swear to you as your princess!!”

Uproarious cheering and applause for her, their sovereign. A goddess of victory.

But he, watching from the shadows, knew better than that. All those years roughhousing with her, and he knew.

The face she showed the public and the face she made in private were two sides of the same card. Princess, mother, wife, friend. So many roles, all of them she played with such strength.

Meleanor only slipped when she thought no eyes were on her. When the servants had all retired for the night, and the moon and its stars came out.

Pressing his back to the wall, Lilia shielded his candle’s small circle of light from view. The hallway was drenched in darkness again.

A few paces away, her chambers to which she retreated every evening with her egg. With her dear little Malleus.

He listened.

Soft whimpers sounded from the abyss. Sounds and sights she would not dare show her people.

A leader such as she could not afford to be weak. The same leader who clutched her child to her and furiously prayed for a happy ending.

“Raverne, where are you? Come home… Come home, you idiotic, idealistic man!!”

CRASH!! BANG!! BOOM!!

Lightning lit up the sky. Lilia's flame trembled before righting itself.

Her voice dropped to a devious coo. "... I'm sorry, Malleus. Did that scare you? There, there. It's alright, your mother is here. Your father will be too... and when he does, I shall give him an earful for being away for so long!!"

He listened, for he was the only one who could. He listened until his lids began to droops. He listened until he had to tear himself away.

Before he knocked upon her door. Before he could tell her he was here, to please let him in. Before he could confess, “I miss him too.”

Hold her. Cry with her. Dream with her.

Ask for Raverne back.

“I will never wish for anything more than this. Please. Please…!!”

He had listened then, but no one had listened to him in return. Not even the stars.

Cruel celestial beings, he cursed—if they would not grant his wish, then he would take matters into his own hands.

Raverne…!!

Lilia swallowed thickly. His footfalls had grown heavy, as if weighed down by cinder blocks.

Silver sleepily gummed his finger. Oblivious as to what was to come.

“The conflict escalated.”

It had all happened so fast. Flying by, a blur. Time was not a concern to most fae—a year was barely the blink of an eye. Everything blending together into an indiscernible mush, taken down with ease.

But war never became more palatable. He had simply trained to become numb to it all. The strong smell of iron, the corpses piled high. It was sensory overload, the taste of too many things at once.

A crimson-eyed demon stood at the boundary of a burning village. Inhaled the fumes, smoke and flesh wrapped in fire. Witnessed the leaping flames stretching to the sky.

Who had lived here? Who had died here? Lilia thought of neither.

Had to, or he would fall to his knees and wail.

He held a small cloth doll, long black hair and red dress. Somehow it had survived the carnage. The lone survivor of a massacre. The rest had been slaughtered or evacuated from the area.

Abandoned, just as he had been.

His gaze lidded, fingers closing around the doll. "… As if it were a day. Everywhere I go, it will be in a blink of an eye. Far Cry Cradle.”

Memories arose, pulled by the strings of magic. They exploded across his vision like fireworks. Tinted green and blue and pink.

There was a ghostly child walking among the ruins, smiling as they clung to their mother, doll in their other hand. Daily life making the rounds in the village, helping with chores and playing games. Story events on fast forward.

Then came the knights stomping in their silver suits, masked fae cloaked in black. Buildings caving in, bodies falling, the clang of weapons colliding.

Screams.

Red, red, so much red.

The child horrified, dropping the doll. Staggering steps backward.

He barely cast an eye at them. Surveying the scene straight out of a hellish dream, he sought out a familiar shadow. Had he walked among them, seen the same things he had?

To no avail.

Lilia blinked, and it was the end.

He had not treaded along this path.

“… Damn it, Raverne.” He gripped the doll harder—as if to squeeze out its secrets. Making me hunt you down like this...

“General Vanrouge.”

Lilia did not turn. “Baul.”

“Sir.” He saluted to his superior. “The troops are rested. We are prepared for the final march to the Eastern Fortress.”

“… Yes, I understand. Let’s move out.”

He let the doll fall to the ground. His hands now freed, he pulled his hood up.

“General?” Baul called tentatively.

“The weather is chilly today, don’t you think?” The question, dismissive. Lilia slipped his mask back on—a beastly bat, glaring, teeth protruding.

His tears hidden from view.

Baul nodded. “… Yes, it is. I will remind the men to bundle up, sir.”

He looked away. “Good.”

Lilia firmly set his jaw. “War came knocking at their door, claiming many lives… and threatening to take the princess and her child too.”

There was something automatically off about the fortress when they slipped in. The infiltration too smooth, the corridors too quiet.

Combing the building yielded few results. There was no Raverne, no Dawn Knight. Only cowering staff and scattered humans in iron armor piloting sputtering metal monstrosities.

He cut them down the same as the rest. A mad boar, seeking a true challenge.

"Where are you?! Show yourself...!!" Lilia's demands were hollow in the empty hallways.

A demon snarling for sacrifice, the humans called him. A heartbroken dreamer, seeking the love that he had lost, his troops would whisper amongst themselves.

They found him at the end of a trail of carnage. Panting, sweating, hoarse. The lines between man and monster converged in Lilia Vanrouge.

Then the message was delivered, striking fear into the fearless fae.

"... What?"

The weapon in his hand faltered as realization ripped through him.

“Wild Rose Castle is under siege?!”

"She summoned her knight to her side.” Lilia’s voice quivered, growing small. You’re weak, he snarled at himself, so very, very weak.

Silver, too, seemed to sense the shift in him. He rubbed his cheek against the fae’s finger. Was he trying to comfort himself, or his newfound caretaker?

“The princess asked of him to take her child to safety somewhere far, far away. To forget her. It was her final selfish request for him.”

He had found her seated upon her throne, one arm curled around her precious egg, the other grasping her scepter. It was a sight so familiar, so safe, his chest lifted with relief. Lilia ran to her, calling her name.

"Meleanor-sama!!"

Her arm swept out in an arc, face twisted with fury. On command, a bolt of lightning crashed down in his path.

"Tch...!"

Tucking and rolling, Lilia darted off to the side, narrowly dodging the strike. Where he had once been was a massive scorch mark on the tiled floor.

“You’re LATE, Lilia!!” Meleanor roared. "What if something had happened to me or Malleus before you had arrived?!"

"Hah. As though you would allow that to happen," he scoffed. "You would kill the Silver Owls dead if I weren't here to stop you."

It was their usual game, a playful chase, the exchange of pokes and prods. Today, Meleanor had no such humor. Her expression turned from rage to one of eerie calm.

Lilia shivered.

"They've come for us," she whispered, hugging her egg tightly.

They had always known this day was a possibility. Now it was here, so palpable it was unreal.

From the bridge that ran to the castle came ugly chants twisted with hatred. Hot, oppressive, heavy. The sound like smoke snuffing out the daylight.

“Kill the witch!”

“Seize the castle!”

“Bring me the spoils!”

Horror raced through him.

“Let’s get you to safety, princess. Quickly, before they breach the drawbridge. My men can only hold them off for so long—”

She rose from her throne, descending from her dais. Her stride was not urgent, not eager to flee—the pace closer to the kind one might set for a garden stroll.

Meleanor faced her knight with a small smile. The same one she offered right before suggesting some sort of mischief.

“Lilia.”

“Princess…?”

“I refuse to run.” Her eyes flickered like green fire. “I will stand and fight.”

Panic pulsed in his ears.

“What?! Of all the foolish, hard-headed decisions you’ve made… This is absolutely the most foolish and the most hard-headed one!! I won’t let you go out there. I can’t. You’ll be…!”

A fist closed around his throat. The word died there, half-formed.

“What is it that you wish to say? That I will be hurt? Killed?” Meleanor challenged. So steadfast, so brazen. “You think so little of your princess.”

“This is NOT the time to argue the technicalities!! We need you safe and well, Meleanor-sama. Think of your people! Think of Raverne, your child...!"

Think of me.

She bared her teeth. “What is my power for, if not to protect those I love?”

Her gaze lowered to her egg, then to Lilia. “... You must flee to Black Scale Castle. They will not be able to follow you that deep into the mountain range.”

"I won’t abandon you. If you will stay, then let me fight alongside you as your sword and shield!"

"You have already done plenty for me. Do not mean to play the role of martyr too." Meleanor straightened, looking the part of a regal ruler. “You must go. I have guests to receive.”

"Argh, you stubborn princess!! How will you fight by yourself when you have your child to consider?"

"That," she laughed softly, "is a simple riddle."

His eyes sharpened with recognition of her next scheme. Meleanor wordlessly deposited the egg into Lilia’s arms. It was warm, humming from within the shell.

A life yet to be born, wishes yet to come true.

“I am entrusting you with Malleus,” she murmured sadly. “Please take care of him in his parents' absence."

“Don’t speak that way!!" Lilia snapped.

Don't speak as though we will never meet again, as though this is the final page of our story.

“In the first place, I could never… I can’t raise this child. I don’t know what it is like to love—not the way you and Raverne do. I’ve never had parents. I can’t be one, not when I don’t understand that kind of love!”

Meleanor’s face softened. “But you love me, don’t you? And you love Raverne too.”

He nodded. Slow, hesitant. “We were young. It was a long time ago,” Lilia mumbled.

“You love us,” she grinned, “so surely you are capable of loving our child, the product of our love—and Malleus will feel that. He will respond to you.”

“I’m not…”

“You are deserving of love, Lilia.” This, Meleanor spoke firmly. “Do not let yourself believe otherwise. I shall never forgive you if you do.”

The shouts were growing louder. The castle shuddered, stopped, and shuddered again. Doors being rammed at, forced open.

“Go,” Meleanor hisses. “This is an order from your princess. You cannot refuse.”

She had told that to him many times before. In dreams, in their games. Now, it hurt to hear more than any blow he had taken from battle.

Something in him gave, and instead of stepping away, he stepped forward. Inching closer to the woman out of his reach, but never touching her.

“I’m scared,” Lilia confessed, quiet as snowfall. “What if I lose you like we lost Raverne?”

Then I will be alone again.

“Be not afraid,” she reassured him. Meleanor did not meet him in the eyes.

“Do you promise we will meet again?” he pressed. The egg felt as molten as magma against his armor. “Do you swear?”

BAM!!

The grounds shook—the Silver Owls had successfully taken down a set of barricaded doors.

The cries had reached a fever pitch. Boots trampling upon the sacred grounds. Louder than ever.

Meleanor’s expression darkened, turning grave. It was the look of men at midnight, alone in the woods. Hollow, haunted, unsure of their fate.

No.

“No…!!”

He launched himself at his princess, a hand outstretched for hers. She made no effort to reach for his.

Did not have to.

Lilia fell short, his foot snagging on something. He instinctively twisted his body, shielding the egg in his arms from the floor. His gaze tore to his ankle, where bramble has sprouted up and tangled itself with him.

More thorns crept up around him, swallowing the ceiling, the walls. They latched onto his limbs, dragging him away, away from her. He grunted, struggling against them, against his fate.

Her doing, her magic.

"... Farewell, Lilia."

Tears prickled. His voice raised, pleading with her.

"Meleanor-sama, don't do this.”

She walked past him and ahead, forever out of his grasp.

"Farewell, Malleus."

He tried again, even knowing it was futile.

The bramble was weaving together, forming a tough wall between him and her.

"Meleanor-sama...!"

Through the last opening, a perfect circular window, she uttered her final words to him. That knowing, daring grin. Eyes beholding a gleam brighter than starlight.

"May the Night bless you."

And then she was lost to him forever.

"MELEANOR!!!"

Lilia laid a hand upon the ajar doors to the fallen castle. Fingers curled. At last, he had made it to the frame separating the inside from out.

“... That was the last time the princess was ever heard of. The end to her tragedy.”

He summoned his strength and broke free, entering the waiting night.

The moon, a spotlight for the two.

Silver bristled as he felt his first cool breeze. Still, he did not fully burrow into his blanket—for his glimpse of the stars stilled that instinct. That's right, Lilia thought, of course he would be enchanted. It's his first sky.

Many firsts.

"If you like that, you'll be excited to know that it's always changing. There are a number of new skies to see. It follows us wherever we go."

So we will never be alone.

The sky, so sprawling, so grand. So accustomed to everything and anything.

His small, lonely, insignificant existence was nothing compared to it.

Ah.

A single tear rolled down his cheek, landing on Silver's nose. The infant stilled, feeling the wetness upon his skin.

Lilia furiously wiped it away, then rubbed at his traitorous eyes. The sadness failed to recede, the memories welling. Promises, hopes, dreams dredged up. Yesterdays calling out to him.

"... You lied, Meleanor,” Lilia rasped into the night. “You told me I would be stuck with you for a long time. So why… Why did you have to leave us so soon?”

A thousand swords stabbed into his chest. The pain radiated outward, a bloody bloom.

"It’s not fair," he sobbed, hanging his head. "It’s not fair at all. Meleanor, Raverne… You’ve gone off together to a place I cannot reach, a place I cannot run to. You’ve left me behind. How am I meant to go on like this?”

I'm scared. I’m scared of the dawn and the tomorrows it will bring. Tomorrows without her and him in them. Tomorrows I must face alone.

More tears, plip, plip. A light drizzle upon Silver's face.

The infant stared up through aurora eyes. Not understanding, not knowing anything.

"How could I...”

Lilia’s voice caught on something sharp. He took a trembling gulp.

How could I learn to love you? When your kind, your very father, has taken nearly everything from me?

"... Hey, Silver."

The child cooed, as if in recognition of his own name. More likely, just responding to the sound of Lilia's voice.

Silver, the color of his hair. Silver, the shine of cloud linings. Silver, the start of something new.

"Tell me. What should I do?" Lilia's forehead and his touched.

Silver kicked his bendy little legs at the contact. Flailed his arms.

“Please guide me. I’m lost." He choked up. "I’m… so lost.”

Be the moonlight that guides me in the darkness. When all hope is lost and the stars have gone out, there will always be a silver light illuminating the path out of the black forest.

Show me the way, Silver.

“Show me if I can truly love you from the bottom of my heart.”

Lilia hugged the child to him. Felt his heartbeat, the same throbbing warmth that had radiated from Malleus’s egg.

After all that time alone amid the bramble… He was here. He was alive.

Up until her final moments, she had been thinking of them. Of this. The people she cared for, a baby not yet born.

The love he had let go, the love he had lost, the love he was he had to learn… It slipped away from him so easily, like grains of sand sifting between his fingers.

Lilia sighed with his entire body. The wind, drying his tears. He looked again at the child he had taken.

Silver giggled when he saw Lilia’s face. The boy’s eyes were clear. An unclouded, colorful aurora.

A weight in his chest lifted.

“… Did you enjoy that sad story?”

No answer, but a bop on his nose. Unintentional, he was sure.

Lilia rubbed at the place where he had been struck. There was no wound, no mark. Just a rapidly fading warmth where Silver's small fist had connected.

“… Silly thing,” he groused. In spite of himself, a stuttering chuckle rose from his throat. “If it will keep you from making needless noise, then I will tell you as many stories as you like. You need only promise to not laugh if I shed another tear.”

Silver squealed—close enough of a confirmation for him.

Lilia tried smiling. The corners of his mouth quiver before giving up.

Meleanor’s parting words floated to him. “May the Night bless you.” With that, it was the end of her tale.

The very same words uttered anew, a blessing for the boy once blonde. A fresh chance, the beginning of a new story.

Lilia looked to the horizon.

The first rays of sun were peering through the darkness. Gold streaking black in small slivers. Dawn had arrived.

A new chapter to their fairy tale.

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cosmicobubisi · 1 month ago

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Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober: Day 19

abandoned cabin / Yarn

The wood creaked as fibers ran through the spinning wheel.

Malleus was always entranced whenever his grandmother wove. There was something hypnotic about whiling the hours away with one singular goal.

With the approaching frontier of technology, advancements being made seemingly as fast as Malleus could grow new teeth, textiles in all colors and shapes had become more commonplace.

He believed that was largely a good thing. The material comforts he often took for granted deserved to be proliferated among the masses.

For the House of Draconi, however, the act of spinning would likely be buried with them.

Black Scale Castle was lined with the efforts of his ancestors. Wedding tapestries, baby blankets, ornately embroidered frocks, even sets of pillowcases.

The majority was kept in the family vaults, as it was too large a collection to keep constantly on display, but at least one piece from every reign decorated Black Scale.

He knew his mother hadn’t made much in her short time. On the advice of several of the records of previous rulers, she had stayed her hand during her and his father’s courting phase, believing she had a whole lifetime to make him and his father more.

She’d been in the middle of a large rug that would have gone in his nursery at the time of her passing. The rug, loose threads and all, had been framed and hung in there instead.

“Before long,” spoke his grandmother, hands never straying from the spindle, “but hopefully not too soon, you will begin your own work.”

She continued. “Though you will decide for yourself what method, I feel it is important for you to know every step in this process. Do you know why?”

“No,” answered Malleus.

“It is because you must learn to appreciate the work that goes into love, and into a successful relationship.“

She adjusted something on the wheel before contributing. “Love, with the right person, can feel magical. Complacency in its source will cause the fountain to run dry.”

Malleus nodded, but he didn’t fully understand. “Who is this for?”

“This yarn shall be for you. I will teach you spinning later, but for now, we will start with knitting and crochet. You will make yourself a hat and gloves for winter.”

She patted her lap. “Come. Observe me closely.”

Malleus climbed up onto her lap, happy to be surrounded by his grandmother.

—

“So this is where you went.”

Malleus turned around to see Yuu in the doorway.

Members of Night Raven’s student body were on a field trip to the Briar Valley, to observe the Welcoming of Spring, and Malleus had generously lent them use of one of the many properties his family owned, this one a cozy cabin farther away from the bigger cities.

“Ah, I apologize,” he said, putting down his work. Being a good host was draining, but he’d had enough of a break.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” said Yuu, waving it off. “We were just setting up a board game. Wanna be on my team?”

Malleus took one last glance at his work to make sure he’d remember where he left off- a grey scarf, the same silvery grey Yuu often favored- and placed it to his side.

“I would love to,” he said, tongue curling around the word as the corners of his mouth rose as if by magic.

#cosmic whump vs fluff 2024 #malleyuu #malleus x yuu #malleus x reader #malleus draconia #twst yuu #abandoned cabin #yarn

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mercurygray · 1 year ago

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30. Ask anything! - What's the story you've written that made you the happiest and why?

What's the story you've written that made you the happiest and why?

A Rose Among the Briars was one of the first long format projects I ever finished. It was a monster of a Lord of the Rings fanfic that took me nearly five years to wrap up, and it made me happy because it showed me I could do big things, that I could finish big things, and it's a piece that still, nearly ten years later, people still remember me for and have a fond place in their hearts for. Oh, and it was translated into French! And it's also maaaaaybe being fan-bound? Which is AMAZING.

Anyway, it's the fic that makes me feel like a big deal in fandom even though it's actually pretty small potatoes and that's why it makes me happy.

[fandom fic writer asks!]

#asked and answered #emilykaldwen #a rose among the briars

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swan-of-fabletown · 1 year ago

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A waiter came to take their food ordering & which are very quickly as they thought. As the ladies waited, Snow, Briar Rose and Cinderella were talking & they had a series of topics. From talking about fashion, the past and even their ex-husband. Charming. Keira didn't say anything as she was thinking and unsure whether to do this again with the three former princesses. So Keira sat and listened and drank some of her wine. The starter came quicker than expected, Waiter: Your starters, today's soup is Cauliflower Cheese. The Waiter placed the bowls in front of each of the ladies.

Keira was looking forward & she was a bit curious about how the former princesses how'd their soup. Briar Rose adding some pepper to her soup, and Snow put butter on the warm crusty bread. Cinderella: You never guess who came to the shop the other day? Snow: Who? Cinderella: Miss Muffet Briar: What does she want? Cinderella: She told me she has a date with Mr Web.

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hatchetfield-bang · 5 months ago

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It's here!! The 2024 Teams Roster!!

Wow! Our most popular year so far, and our most successful first check-in/claims! We also had a very successful beta claims for the first time ever!!! Without further ado, get excited for the teams of the 2024 Hatchetfield Bang!!!

Love Runs Blue Author: Amanda/Calc Artist: Arran/Wiz Artist: Jade

For as long as my heart beats, our love shall fill it Author: Arthur Artist: Crypt Beta: Cami/Mike

Double Trouble Author: Love Artist: Kostya Artist: Axel

My Imaginary Friend, the Horror Author: Hayley Artist: Apollo/Pax Artist: Indigo

A Budding Conspiracy Author: Ash Artist: Artsy Artist: Oli

Sleazy Grown-Ups Must Die Author: Nab Artist: Jude Artist: Noodle

Little Briar Rose Author: Cal Artist: Teddy Beta: Pamela

Save The Town, Save The World Author: Felix Artist: Banana Bread Artist: Myth Beta: Lou

The God Of Friendship Author: Cas Artist: Grape/Kai Artist: Chloe Beta: Lou

when everything gets heavy, i've learned to travel light Author: Dragon Artist: Lo Artist: Teddy Beta: Lou

Ziria Author: Rats Artist: Noodle Artist: Jade Beta: Andi

She Walks Among the Stars Author: Dylbo Artist: Maddy Artist: Temmie Beta: Feather

Abstinence Camp Continued Author: Myth Artist: Ricky

Let's Do The Timewarp Again Author: Feather Artist: Kaz Artist: Nico Beta: Violet

Flash, Bang, Jane Author: Amanda/Calc Artist: Chloé Beta: Charlotte

Learning to Love Again (For the First Time) Author: Dylbo Artist: Finn Beta: Lucy

2003 Author: Love Artist: Tere Artist: Storm

Hallowed be thy name Author: Frog Artist: Olly Beta: Feather

The Senior Shriek Author: Felix Artist: Jasper Artist: Achilles Beta: Violet

Bleeding Memories Author: Ash Artist: Chloe Beta: Andi

Transfer My Tragedy Author: Felix Artist: Maddy

Grace Rips Off A Carrie Author: Ember Artist: Myth

Branches of the Willow Author: Nick Li Artist: Dan Beta: Temmie

leaning over us in icy stars Author: Rats Artist: Ace Artist: Ash

Reflections Author: Megan Artist: Domo

innocence died screaming, honey (i slithered here from eden just to sit outside your door) Author: Scott Artist: Olly Beta: Feather

How Far We've Come Author: Nier Artist: Morgan

Sweetheart Author: Grape/Kai Artist: Maddy Beta: Violet

The Hatchetfield Games Author: Charlotte Artist: Achilles Beta: Cami/Mike

i'll never let you go (take me back) Author: Ali Artist: Green Beta: Charlotte

Alice Woodward Must Die Author: Emmelie Artist: Silver Beta: Love

The Hatchetfield Poets Department Author: Charlotte Artist: Andi Beta: Love

NPMD Among Us AU Author: Andi Artist: Ren Artist: Emmett

Nothing means everything (to me) Author: Frog Artist: Amy

dead kids (where do they go?) Author: Em Artist: Cass Artist: Ace

and the bible didn't mention us (not even once) Author: Amy Artist: Storm Beta: Love

Only Hers Author: Abi Artist: Marc

#starkid #hatchetfield #big bang #fandom event #team roster #blog announcement

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animusicnerd · 2 years ago

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Briar Valley Lore Dump!

Notes: This is in honor of Diasomnia chapter coming out. Most of the information my lore is from is from twst, disney, or general faery lore. This is for my Lilia story that I'm currently planning and this is honestly just for shits and giggles. This will change when I actually post the story but for now, it is an intro guide to all the world building that I did before Diasomnia chapter came out. I don’t mind getting questions since it will help flesh out this world a little more so don’t hesitate to message me about this!(This is also long btw so click at your own risk.)

The Draconia family is the second family to rule Briar Valley. It was once ran by a different fae family but the Draconias staged a successful coup d'état and gained the throne.

The Valley has been in two wars against the neighboring human kingdom due to humans wanting to expand their land for resource purposes. Both times Briar Valley has won and although the kingdoms used to have a friendly relationship with each other that is no longer the case.

The first war was caused by human greed for land and resources while the second also included revenge for what the faeries had done to them.

Many humans have immigrated into Briar Valley due to discrimination from their fellow humans. The Fair Folk of the Valley tend to stay away from them but most look down on them, but it was better than being hunted and being burned at the stakes. Little human towns are spread throughout the kingdom's lands.

Malleus's grandmother stepped down from the throne a little before the Second Human-Fae War started and his father was crowned king. After ten short years, he passed away and his mother came back to rule as queen regent in Malleus's place, who is technically the current King of Briar Valley.

The kingdom is most active at night as most of its residents are known to be nocturnal. The Briar Markets are busiest around this time and buyers often have to be careful when bargaining. The Fair Folk do not lie but their words can have double meanings so you might end up losing your first born child or buying a cursed item. Gold coins are accepted as well.

The kingdom is surrounded by forests and mountains so they are very rich in natural resources. Magic is also used in everyday life.

Not all villages are under Briar Valley but all pay a tithe for protection purposes, especially after humans arrived and desecrated their lands.

Maleficient was the one to overthrow the first ruling family and made peace with the first humans who hailed from the Queendom of Roses. Her daughter, Malleus's grandmother, was the one who went to war with them for disrespect to the lands and its residents after King Stefan went mad for more power.

Briar Castle as located at the highest peak of Briar Valley. With mountains acting as a natural barrier, leaving and entering the castle is near impossible without the use of some sort of flight magic. The Northern and Southern gates are the main ways to leave the castle but there are also hidden tunnels that lead down to the base of the mountain for the royal family, nobility, and any other residents in the castle. Secret passageways are also in the castle but are known to very few people.

While the Draconias may rule Briar Valley, there are seven noble families in Briar Valley in total that includes the Vanrouges, the Aldens, the Amaris, the Rannulfs, the Lavinias, and the Altairs. Each family specializes in something and all have pledged their loyalty to the Draconias when they first started to rule.

Courting rituals in the Valley often start with giving away a precious or sentimental item to each other and exchanging letters. Times are varied but most couples seem to exchange letters until the twenty-fifth moon where they meet in person (often times, it's not the first time they meet each other) and discuss their futures. Once again, timing and how these rituals go vary because of different cultures among the fae but most seem to start with exchanging an item of some sort.

Faeries tend to age at a slower rate than humans but most are fully-grown by the time they are a hundred years old. Unlike humans, faeries get stronger with age and they are also immortal. However, they are not un-killable and iron is one of the only things that can truly hurt them. Humans have used iron weapons against their wars with them. Knowing their true names will also have them in your control but that is usually the case with weaker faeries. Big names like the Draconias or the other noble families would not be affected by that as their magical prowess goes far beyond than just their names.

Fairy circles also tend to act as a teleportation tool. Although most faeries don't use it themselves, many humans or other beings that have stepped into one have reported having been teleported to the nearest fairy in the area. It's more of an annoyance to faeries and non-faeries alike but some of the Fair Folk do use it as a trap to make deals that are often in favor of them alone.

Faeries love music! Most often know how to play at least two instruments on top of knowing how to sing. Humans must be careful as the allure of their songs are very strong and they could end up dancing until someone either pulls them out or they die.

It is also good to note that you should be careful of what food you are being given as most of their food can put you in a deep trance and make you their servants or it can just kill you.

Fairies also tend to dislike humans as most of them do not like magic and tend to think of it as unnatural when it is very much natural in Twisted Wonderland. If a human has magic, they often offer teaching them how to wield their powers in exchange for something which could be your child or just some fresh honey.

If you noticed that a lot of deals involve children, it is because it is very hard for faeries to have their own. It is not impossible but it could take hundreds of years to produce one child to continue a family line and siblings are usually a hundred years apart. However, they often dislike being with someone that is not a faery as some considerate it a disgrace to their bloodlines or their lovers could die of old age, sickness, etc, while they continue to live on. They do make deals not involving children though.

Faeries do not lie because they can't. Most of their words and actions are carefully thought out to avoid being tricked by others and it is always best to think before you speak to any of them. You also have to be respectful and offending them could have grave consequences for you and your entire bloodline.

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #diasomnia #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #he's a little baby #this is all I could do for now #Im tired and have exams lmao

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abysswalkersknight · 11 months ago

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Angsty story time just like I said! This one took a bit of time to think about because I was trying to match it with the other one and used my other fic as bit of a reference. Now if you'll excuse me I need to go write something fluffy and funny before I cry myself a river. Please enjoy.

...........................

This blessing truly was a curse.

Another wave of heaviness overwhelms Silver’s entire being, causing him to stagger against the gigantic, rusted door. Almost there, a voice whispers in his ear, almost there.

There wasn’t much time. He had been travelling on foot for a few days now, having snuck out of Night Raven after making sure that everyone was alright and resting. He had gathered all his meagre possessions from his dorm room and set fire to them, watching as the smoke and ashes rose up into the cool, starry sky, no one will miss them anyways. The only thing that was spared from the flames was the small photograph from Silver’s birthday where everyone wore pleasant happy smiles, back when everything was normal. He couldn’t bear to part with it so he carefully pocketed it in an old coat he brought from home.

Home. What does that mean to him now? Home was wherever his father was, and now that was gone too. Lost to the sands of time and revelation.

Almost there.

The castle was decrepit and in ruins, but there was a melancholic beauty among the briar thorns that draped over the whole crumbling structure, threading through old looming towers and snaking through rotted doors and windows. Elegant it was, for an ancient tomb made for a forgotten kingdom.

Silver groaned as another wave of exhaustion hit him, it was getting worse, this was different from all the other spells, it was heavy and unrelenting, weighing him down like a prisoner with a ball and chain. It had started when everyone had tended to the aftermath of Malleus’s overblot, while everyone shed tears of relief and embraced each other Silver felt a sharp pang in his chest, his eyelids began to sag and his head languidly swayed. Before him was the sweet sight of his family in a tight pile sharing heartfelt whispers and cheers, suddenly he grew to be very tired. Silver was so happy for them, finally he got to see his prince and father genuinely smile once again, but this time the pang he felt before returns with another kick. Harder this time. So hard that he thought he could feel something split inside him, slowly spreading into what would later become a fragile web of cracks just waiting to shatter. By then he had left before anyone had noticed, slipping out of the room to what he believed was his final walk to the gallows.

He recalled visiting his father before he left. The poor fae was utterly exhausted and hadn’t even stirred as the moon’s light flooded the room through the crack of his door, Silver slowly crept up to the edge of his father’s bed, watching the level rise and fall of his chest as his gaze shifted to the peaceful expression on Lilia’s face, it was the most peaceful Silver’s seen him for quite some time. If Lilia were to wake up right now he might’ve startled at the close proximity his son’s face was to his, just watching intently while resting his drowsy head on top of his arms, expression blank as it had always been. How did he do it? After all the suffering he’s had to endure all these centuries, how did Lilia still find it in himself to love and care for the offspring of his enemy, the enemy who's stripped him of everything.

Silver sighed deeply, his head lolled against the cool stone of the castle, his thoughts were flailing from his grasp while his vision blurred at the edges, how much longer… how much longer. He was so tired, this was worse than the exhaustion he felt carrying the general up the forbidden mountains or the cold, cold magic that seeped into his joints. Silver clumsily waves off some birds, fluttering about in their worry when he refuses to speak to them, so tired, it didn’t matter. It was no use clinging to something worth nothing.

As he was leaving father’s room, he did not expect to hear a voice weak with sleepiness calling out to him ‘Silver?’ Lilia’s voice rang out ‘my dear, what are you doing out? You should be in bed little one’ Silver turned from his place at the door to see Lilia lifting himself upright, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. Once again Silver was a small child, silently praying for his papa to wake up and soothe him after the throes of a dreadful nightmare, he stalls, unsure of what to do, fortunately Lilia beats him to it ‘couldn’t sleep could you? That’ll be a first, but I’m not surprised,’ he yawns widely, ‘come here little one’ he says, patting the bed. When Silver doesn’t budge he pats it more insistently ‘well, come on!’ Silver twitches hesitantly, he’d want nothing more than to run and snuggle into his father’s arms just like how he did as a child, but due to what he’s devised and done it felt rather cruel, in the end though Silver gave in. However, as father’s arms eagerly wrapped around his shoulders the drowsiness he felt in the lounge returned tenfold, making him slump further into Lilia’s chest. Unaware of what was truly happening Lilia coos, thinking that his son simply needed some company to help lull him to sleep, not that he could blame him, the past few days have been quite the eye opener for his boys, and not the pleasant kind.

‘I’m so sorry you had to endure all of that my love’ Lilia murmurs as he buries his face in silver locks ‘it must have been terrifying for you all’ he then lays back down, bringing Silver down with him ‘yes, but I’m just glad that you and Lord Malleus are safe’ he whispers back, letting Lilia press a loving kiss to his forehead ‘oh my darling, who could have ever raised such a wonderful boy? Oh yes, it was me!’

Normally the boy would relish in his father’s doting affections, hands combing through his hair and massaging his scalp, his warm body curled around his under the blankets, it was the perfect way to fall asleep. But all it does now is widen the gaping hole in his chest, rendering him numb to the bone. Please, why?

It should be Malleus here in father’s warm embrace, not him.

Malleus, the prince who had lost everything before he was even born, the prince who had been denied a family by those who sought power, the prince who had been denied his rightful father. I’m so sorry.

No, Silver was not jealous in the slightest, the void within him did not bay for anyone’s downfall. Only his.

Had it not been for his birth family Malleus would still have his parents, perhaps even his freedom, and Lilia would still have his beloved friends, his reasons for living. And now thanks to Silver’s selfish desires he had helped trigger Malleus’s overblot and thus this whole mess.

And it tore at Silver to know that, despite all of these transgressions, Lilia still found it in himself to love him. It was with these thoughts stewing in his head that he carefully crawled out from the blissful warmth once he was certain his father had fallen back asleep, slipping out of the dorm just as a certain prince came to check on him, only to find that the window had been left open, curtains fluttering as the moon leaked through, illuminating a room that was dreadfully cold and devoid of everything.

Silver wasn’t even meant to be here, hadn’t the great fairies blessed him with a prolonged slumber, he would merely be another fading memory of a kingdom lost to time, a distant fragment in the history textbooks if he was lucky. Which was partly why he was here now, back to the castle where Lilia had found him, and the place where Princess Malenoa was slain, if he were in the right state of mind Silver would have spent a moment savouring the desolate beauty of the whole place. But alas, it seemed that his body recognised its home of the last four hundred years, and a familiar sense of fatigue clawed at his legs. But the voice in the back of his head urged him to walk further, almost there almost there.

After all, there was a reason why Silver was here.

He wanted his family to be happy, and it seems to ensure that, the blood stained slate must be wiped clean. And while there was no way he could disband the senate, the least Silver could do was make sure that nothing from his forgotten home harmed anyone ever again, including himself. Everything here must remain buried, for the sake of everyone. Everything from that tragedy will die here with him, his bloodline and existence will be naught but a distant memory.

The great fairies magic seemed to agree with him as with every ladened step he takes, the harder it was for him to move. Just a little more…

In the background, he heard a frantic volley of chirps and squeaks. What is it this time? It takes a momentous effort to lift his hooded eyes to see a pair of dark wings flapping and tugging at his hair. Oh, it was one of Father’s familiars, the one who took charge whenever Malleus or the Zigvolts babysat him. The bat squeaked with desperation, even digging its tiny claws into his shoulder in a pitiful attempt to either wake him up or drag him away he was not sure, all he knew was that any and all entrances had been sealed to prevent anyone from breaking in, but it seemed that the wildlife were still granted entry ‘leave me’ he tells his old caretaker, his voice slurry and barely above a whisper.

The old bat chirps back, refusing to let go as if it knew what was happening. It's possible that it does, the bat was nearly as old as Lilia, its borne witness to his family's atrocities, seen what they have done so why was it pulling at him so? It was the head of its colony, it knew as a leader that sometimes one thing must be sacrificed for the good of many others. Why didn’t it understand that this is what needs to be done? It was for the benefit of its master for goodness sake! ‘please. Leave me alone, return to Lilia’ it hurt him to insult his father like this, he could almost hear Sebek cutting into him at such blatant disrespect. I’m sorry, Father.

The bat’s urgent squealing escalates into a borderline wailing as Silver stumbles forward, crawling up the steps leading to the desecrated throne, and the empty cradle right next to it. I’m…tired. The further he climbed, the deeper he sank, down, down into the darkness, the sweet promise of rest right at his fingertips. The bat faded off into the distance, all sense of feeling in his limbs fell away, all he could see was that small cradle.

Why did I wake up?

Every resounding step echoed throughout the empty halls.

Why did you take me in?

His legs buckle underneath him, his face crashing into the harsh stone.

It hurts. I’m scared.

He was terrified, there was no stopping this, this exhaustion. Weak fingers drag his body closer.

Father, he wanted Father!

Why would he come? There was nothing here for him, he didn’t deserve father.

It was so cold, where was father? He’s warm.

In the fading light, a hand reaches out for the cradle, almost there.

Fa…ther…

Darkness swallows him whole.

#knight's writing #silver twst #twst #I both wither and feast upon this misery #most of the time on this was spent fighting with crappy internet #poor baby Silver when will you accept everyone's love?

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