#malanka!reader

[girl-lostconnection]

Snow is soft under his hooves, quiet creaking of it disturbing otherwise peaceful night when König shifts his weight from one leg to another.

It’s a good night. A proper night.

One that gets darker and darker with each hour, stars shining in the sky, not even moon strong enough to disperse the darkness.

He’s been waiting for some time now to get her back in his hands.

Again his, again with him.

Yeah, it’s a good night. One when he can hold her again.

König can see the glimmer of lights down in the valley, sounds of singing groups going from house to house — people are celebrating.

König knows it’s not his territory. These are not his mountains.

Even if they were — he is not working tonight. It’s her time.

Her holiday.

Melody pours in the air, clear as a tear, paper mache stars turning and turning, being carried from house to house by laughing groups of teens and children.

This night is magic.

Malanka comes just after Christmas, bringing carols and rituals, bringing signs and omens.

Giggly and girlish, she’s every girl that asks to see her future spouse in a dream, she’s every mother feeding her family, she’s every child caroling.

Malanka is so much younger than he is but somehow so much stronger. Buzzing with excitement and full to the brim with wonder, she is pure magic.

Or maybe he’s just not used to being away from his Alps.

König hums the melody of recurring carol, tree branches moving with wind above him.

Rare person might see the way his horns touch the branches. Most would just look away, blame what they saw on the play of shadows and their own imagination.

They don’t know him here. They don’t believe in him here.

He’s tall and burly, wrapped in a coat made out of goat’s hide, wooden mask of a horrific grimace on his face, horns curling.

Anywhere else he’d stood out like a sore thumb. But here?

Here are dozens dressed just like him.

König shifts his weight, rolling his shoulders and crouches down, watching passer-biers.

Even crouching he’d be taller than these teens that fool out in the snow without a care in the world.

König is big.

Big omen. Big god. Big warning.

König huffs out air, vapour escaping his nose — white hot and ephemeral — child on the other side of the road gasping at the sight of him.

Yeah, children see him better than everyone else.

He comes for them after all. He is their god.

The kid is young, wrapped up in thick winter coat, bear’s mask tugs to the side of her face, scarf red and obviously made by someone who loves her — König can sense care in every hook of it.

She grins at him before scurrying off. It’s too cold outside for someone this small. Too dark.

König breathes in and out, tasting air — magic sweet on his tongue, coating it like sugary treat.

Not a naughty child.

She behaved well this year. Good.

König stands back up, stretching in his full height — throws a coin up in the air and watches it disappear with thin ding.

Maybe the kid will find it in her tiny boot in the morning. Maybe.

After all these are not his mountains and not his people. Who knows if it will work.

Night stretches out, dances around him like a velvet ribbon, crystal charms-snowflakes of it dingling in the air.

He knows it’s not his mountains.

He also knows that Malanka is willing to share.

You on the other hand know that until 6th of January he’s in full power.

It may be not his place, but it is his time.

Melody of the carol weaves itself through the air — clear and beautiful, voices getting louder.

König can practically taste it in the wind, can feel it coating him along with snow, soaking him in cheer.

He doesn’t know the words but he knows the meaning. It’s always the same no matter how many decades pass.

It’s always hope for the better.

Night is young, darkness pooling around him, his coat heavy with goat’s hides, and it’s almost peaceful. Almost good enough for him to fall asleep.

Voices boom louder, snapping him out of trance, making him shake snow off his coat, turning his head around.

But there are no one outside.

The streets are empty.

Carol gets louder and louder looming seemingly out of everywhere, melody filled with power and joy, until it goes down to just one voice.

Languages mix, words ever changing, magic thickening.

For a moment he can almost understand it.

For a moment he’s part of it.

But it slips through his fingers and out of his mind, leaving him grasping for more, foreign magic imprinting on the tips of his claws.

Steps right behind him making snow creak.

König doesn’t turn around staying just where he is. There is no one else who’d be able to come this close.

König will let her have her fun.

There’s dingling of the bells, carol circling around him, cheerful giggling getting closer.

She’s never in a rush, drunk on cherry liquor and her people’s love.

A well-fed god is a powerful god.

Her ribbons wrap around his arms and throat, get tangled in his furs, pull him back deeper in the woods. Lead him.

He lets her.

It’s her night after all.

“Вийди-вийди господарю,

Подивися на кошару”

The voice fills his ears, snow falling and falling, his coat more white than the usual dark — dusted with silver, frost painting incredible patterns over him.

“В тебе товар весь хороший

Будеш мати мірку грошей”, is now even closer, breath of winter sending shivers down his spine, everything in him thrilling — old magic feeding him.

She is feeding him.

“Хоч не гроші, то полова

В тебе жінка чорноброва“

Your hands wrap around his shoulders, bells at the tips of your goat horns swaying with the wind that’s picking up.

König doesn’t understand what it is you just breathed out, but whatever it was you seem awfully pleased.

Eyes shining and warm when you look at him, your ribbons soft on his skin.

You are different every time — tall and tiny, goat-headed and human, monstrous and impossibly beautiful.

You are winter and cheer, you are endings and hope.

You are the start of the start.

“Having fun, Schatz?”, König breathes out, head tilting so you can pull off his mask, runes on your face shining.

You are shining.

“Christmas is here, I’m bringing good cheer”, you muse practically in a sing-song, your eyes crinkling when he pulls you closer, perching on his forearm.

Your coat is big and warm, fur of it long and white, tickling his face a little. It was a beautiful goat before you started wearing it.

“Have you been good this year, meine Liebe?”, König is dusted with snow and heavy with furs, uncovered cheeks now pink from winter winds.

Instead of answering you kiss both of his cheeks, grin widening when he rumbles softy, tilting his head from side to side so you can do this again.

You are his favourite night.

You are his loveliest holiday.

“You look good”, praise slips off your tongue easily, vowels rolling with the remnants of your people’s language, carrying the memory of carols. Your carols.

“You feed me well”, he’s never this soft with anyone but you. Always with you.

König’s horns are heavy, that’s what he tells himself as he leans his head closer to yours, silently asking for another kiss.

Your lips press it to his forehead, smile warm against his skin.

It’s blissful for a fraction of a moment — perfect and sweet.

Then his whole body gets rocked with a shiver, warm foreign runes bleeding off your face onto him, wrapping around his horns.

A blessing.

“Merry Christmas, happy New Year and happy holidays”, you breath out — eyes shining and laughter bubbling.

Cheeky little thing. Filling him up, making him comfortable, making him stronger.

König presses his nose to your cheek for a moment, before he huffs air out — vapor hotter, his whole body uncurling, his horns (all three pairs) longer and hooves heavier — he’s taller now. Big enough to cover miles with a single step.

“Ready to go, Göttin?”

You grin, perched comfortably on his shoulder, bells on your horns singing in the air.

“Yeah, I’m done. We can go home”

König hums, turning around, shadows wrapping around his ankles, your ribbons tickling his cheeks.

It’s time to bring his pretty wife home. It’s time to celebrate properly.

“Then off we go, Schatz”

[girl-lostconnection]

Christmas already passed but winter didn’t. Therefore I’m not too late with my winter snippets about Perchta!König and Malanka!Reader.

Trying to find the right carol of the bells version for this thing, god, I love Christmas stories

For some context Perchta is a mythological entity/goddess from Alpine paganism in the Upper German, Austrian and Slovenian regions of Alps. In the folklore of Bavaria and Austria Perchta was said to roam the countryside during 12 days between Christmas and Twelfth night (25th Dec to 6th Jan)

So Perchta would know whether the children of the house had behaved well and worked hard all year. (Basically if you were on the naughty or nice list)

If they had, they could find a small silver coin the next day in their shoe.

If they had not, she would slit their bellies open, remove their stomach and guts, and stuff the hole with straw and pebbles. (Alpine paganism truly was built different)

She was particularly concerned to see that girls had spun the whole of their allotted portion of flax or wool during the year.

The tradition of celebrating with Perchta is still alive in Austria, they have cool wooden masks and actors that dress up and walk on stilts, I encourage you to read more if the topic got you curious.

My Perchta König is loosely based on Bluegiragi’s Percht!König because they did fantastic job with designing him as a monster. But mine would be different because it’s a very different setting

Malanka is a Ukrainian folk holiday celebrated on 31st of December which is New Year’s currently. Before it was celebrated on 13th of January but we switched calendars so... Anyways-

Malanka was named after goddess Mylanka (meaning “the loved one”) formerely named Spring-May that got snatched to the underworld by her kind of evil uncle god (I’m looking at you Hades and Persephone) but got rescued and unlike her Greek counterpart never had to marry anyone. Or come back to the underworld.

Her mom (Mother Earth) just locked the cycle of spring and rebirth and got her child back. 10/10

There are no descriptions of how Mylanka actually looked so I took some liberties and considering that Reader is rather the embodiment of the holiday, I had some more creative freedom.

If anyone would be curious about references after reading the snippet itself — hit me up. I’m dying to talk about it. That’s just a context post

[girl-lostconnection]

König

• Nails

• Beautiful Fish AU + Addition

• Perchta!König x Malanka!Reader + Context