#malleus oneshot

[seumyo]

bro wtf is wrong with you?? every time i think i’m safe, you drop another emotional damage bomb like it’s nothing. do you thrive on our suffering??? do you sleep peacefully at night knowing you made us cry??? i swear you enjoy this a little too much. touch some grass. drink some water. go apologize to your stuffed animals for the pain you’ve inflicted on us.

…anyway, malleus angst when? ily ur works pls don’t die broski 😭

to lose malleus draconia against something you could never rival.

ps. based off of my twst oc and his relationship with malleus (male!reader)

You had always known Malleus Draconia belonged to no one.

That was the nature of the dragon fae—too powerful, too eternal, too distant for any one person to truly claim. But you had still thought—hoped, foolishly—that this would end up differently. That after years at Malleus’ side, there would be no room for another. That if Malleus was ever to let someone in, truly in, it would be you.

And yet, here you were. Watching.

The night air was crisp, heavy with the scent of roses from the courtyard garden, the flickering lanterns casting long shadows against the stone paths. It should have been a peaceful night. It should have been yours. How many times had you and Malleus walked these very grounds together, speaking of things that only beings like you could understand? How many times had you stood beneath the same sky, caught between the weight of eternity and the loneliness of it all?

But tonight, Malleus wasn’t beside you.

He was with them.

The human.

You watched as Malleus stood close—too close—to the magicless student who had somehow wormed their way into his life. Malleus was speaking in that slow, deliberate way of his, his voice like a lull of thunder just before the storm. And the human—the human—was laughing.

Bright, open, utterly unafraid.

As if they had any right.

You had been the one to pull Malleus from his solitude, to remind him that regardless what happens, he’ll always have you to turn to when things get rough. You had been the one to stand by him when even other fae hesitated.

You. Not them.

Yet here Malleus was, giving the human a smile that you had never been able to draw from him. A soft one, without the weight of anything to hold him back, without the quiet sadness that always seemed to linger in his gaze.

Malleus looked light.

Your fingers curled at your sides, sharp nails biting into your palms. The sting grounded you, kept you from doing something you would regret—like stepping forward and reminding Malleus just who had been at his side for centuries. Just who had earned the right to stand beside him?

God, you were starting to sound like Sebek.

But then, what would be the point?

You had always known this love was one-sided. You had always known Malleus cared for you, but not in the way you wanted. And knowing that should have been enough to keep you from hurting.

But it wasn’t.

A presence flickered beside you. Lilia. You didn’t look at him, but you could feel the weight of the fae’s knowing gaze.

“You’re brooding,” Lilia observed, his voice laced with quiet amusement. “It’s unlike you to sulk in the shadows. That’s Idia’s job, isn’t it?”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, but you didn’t rise to the bait. You didn’t trust yourself to. Didn’t feel yourself to.

Lilia hummed. “You know, watching from afar won’t change anything.”

You finally turned your head, meeting Lilia’s red eyes with a sharp glare. “And what would you have me do?” Your voice was low, controlled. Strained. “Drag them away from him? Demand that he look at me instead?”

Lilia tilted his head, ever the picture of effortless wisdom. “Would it be so wrong to want him to see you?”

Your throat tightened.

Malleus had always seen you. Hadn’t he?

Hadn’t he?

You turned back to where Malleus stood, the sound of that human’s laughter ringing in your ears. Malleus’ expression was soft, his gaze warm, and you felt something inside you crack. Slow, but not all at once.

You had spent years standing beside Malleus, waiting—perhaps foolishly—for the day that the dragon fae would look at you and understand. That he would realize that you had never left, never wavered, never wanted anyone but him.

But that day would never come, would it?

Because Malleus had looked at someone.

Just not you.

Lilia let out a quiet sigh, as if reading the weight of your thoughts. “Love is a fickle thing, isn’t it?” he mused, voice softer now. “It does not reward patience, nor does it care for history. It goes where it wills.”

You sighed, slumping against the overgrown marble railings of the garden. “Spare me the wisdom.”

Lilia chuckled. “Ah, but it hurts less when you hear it from someone else, doesn’t it?”

You didn’t answer. Because it didn’t hurt less. It hurt more.

The human said something, and Malleus laughed. Not a quiet chuckle, not the polite amusement he often gave others, but something real. Something you had never been able to pull from him. No matter how much effort you put into it.

And in that moment, you knew.

You could never be that for Malleus.

You could be his friend, his most trusted companion, his constant. But you could never be the reason Malleus smiled like that.

Because Malleus had never once looked at you and seen something to long for.

You had always been there. Reliable. Familiar. Expected.

But this human? They were new. They were different. They were something Malleus had never known he could have.

And you—you had always been something Malleus knew he wouldn’t lose.

So you watched.

Because there was nothing else you could do.

And wasn’t that the cruelest part?

-

You hated the rain.

It soaked through your clothes, clung to your body as a literal unshakable feeling, and turned the world into a cold, miserable blur. The water was pooling at your feet, running in rivulets down your cheeks like mock tears—because you refused to cry. Not here. Not for this.

Not for him.

Malleus stood just a few feet away, regal as ever, the rain sliding off him like it dared not touch him. Even now, with you standing before him, drenched and trembling with the weight of everything you had kept locked inside for centuries, Malleus was unmoved.

And that—that was the thing that shattered you the most.

“You—” Your voice came out hoarse, your breath uneven. Your chest ached, a deep, twisting thing that no magic could heal.

“Since when did I lose?”

Malleus blinked, his expression unreadable.

“Lose?”

A sharp, bitter laugh tore out of your throat. You tilted your head back, let the rain sting your skin, let the cold seep into your bones. You should have known. You should have known it would come to this—because you had always been waiting, hadn’t you?

Always standing just behind Malleus, always within reach but never touched, never chosen.

And you had been okay with that for a time.

Because you thought that if you had been patient, if you were loyal, if you stayed, then maybe, just maybe, Malleus would one day turn to you and realize—

But no.

No, because Malleus had turned.

Just not in your direction.

Never in your direction.

“Yes, lose,” you spat, taking a step forward. “Since when was I not enough?”

Malleus’ brows furrowed slightly, as if he did not understand—as if he had not known. “[Name]—”

“No,” you snapped, stepping closer, your voice raw with something you could no longer hold back. “Don’t say my name like that. Like you don’t know. Like you haven’t always known.”

Malleus said nothing, but something in his gaze shifted.

And that was enough.

Enough to confirm what you had feared all along.

Malleus had known.

He had known, and he had still—

You exhaled sharply, a bitter, humorless sound escaping you. Your hands trembled as you ran them through your soaked hair. “I have been by your side for years, Malleus,” you murmured, the words thick with something you couldn’t name. “I have stood with you when others feared you. I have fought for you, bled for you, given you everything—”

Your voice cracked, and you swallowed against the lump rising in your throat.

“I have loved you, Malleus.”

Silence.

The rain poured harder, like the sky itself was mourning for you. It could also be influenced by how the fae in front of you felt. Honestly, you couldn’t care anymore.

Malleus’ lips parted slightly, but he did not speak. He just watched, as if waiting for you to continue, as if he did not realize that you were standing here, breaking yourself open for him—offering your heart on a silver platter, knowing it would never be taken.

You laughed, a sharp, wounded thing. “You don’t even look surprised.”

Malleus inhaled, slow and measured. “[Name]…” His voice was quiet, heavy with something you would rather not hear. “I—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice hoarse. You shook your head, stepping back, suddenly feeling so tired. “Don’t say it.”

Because you knew what was coming.

You are my dearest friend, [Name].

You are important to me.

I never meant to hurt you.

Words that meant nothing.

Words that would only twist the knife deeper.

Malleus’ eyes searched yours, and you hated that. Hated that even now, when you were falling apart, Malleus still looked at you with that quiet, unreadable expression—as if you were a puzzle to be solved instead of someone standing in the ruins of something that had never even begun.

As if he hadn’t known you well enough throughout the years.

The rain continued to fall, each drop heavy against your skin, against your chest, against the gaping wound in your heart that you refused to let bleed any more than it already had.

You let out a shuddering breath. When you spoke again, your voice was quieter. Resigned.

“I can’t force you to love me.” Your throat tightened. “And I wouldn’t want to.”

Malleus’ expression flickered—something almost like pain flashing across his face. But still, he said nothing.

You exhaled shakily, tilting your head up towards the sky. The rain was suffocating, pressing against your skin, drowning you in something you couldn’t escape.

“That’s the worst part, isn’t it?” Your voice dropped to a whisper. “That I understand.”

Because you did.

You understood.

Malleus had chosen.

And it wasn’t you.

You felt something inside you break completely, splintering into a thousand irreparable pieces. And there was nothing left to do—nothing left to say.

Because if Malleus had wanted you, he would have chosen you. There wouldn’t be a reason to choose in the first place.

But you weren’t even an option in the first place, you realize.

What a fool. Naïve, hopeful fool.

And that was enough.

You exhaled one last, trembling breath before taking a step back. Then another. Your boots splashed in the puddles forming beneath you, the water soaking into the hem of your coat.

You glanced at Malleus one last time, committing the image to memory. The prince you had loved your whole life. The man you had given everything to.

You were willing to give the world and back to.

The one who would never be yours.

The rain blurred your vision, but you didn’t blink.

“I hate the rain,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone else.

Because it reminded you of when Malleus was sad. When you were the one to stick by him as the weather passed by each quiet night in his castle.

Then you turned.

And you walked away.

Because if you stayed—

If you stayed, you would break. More so knowing that you lost Malleus to something that you could never rival.

Genuine, unadulterated love.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[trappolia]

"i never noticed this before," you murmur, brushing your fingers over the singular dragon scale upon malleus's forehead, the ebony a darker shade of his hair against the pallid alabaster of his skin. the touch startles malleus for but a single moment, before he regains his composure.

he smiles, something impish and childlike glinting in his eyes as he leans down till he's level with you. unperturbed (you've grown accustomed to his many quirks in your time together, just as you've found the beauty of the gargoyles that malleus finds so much joy in observing), you take his closeness in proximity as an invitation to continue. malleus makes a soft, pleased purr as you brush his bangs away, touching the delicate scale.

"i suppose it's always been covered by my hair," he muses, smiling conspiratorically. "does it please you, finding more evidence of my draconic lineage?"

you hum, barely holding back a smile as you twist a strand of his hair around your finger. "i suppose it pleases me just to learn more things about you."

malleus blinks, caught off guard by your boldness for just a moment before he throws his head back to the raining heavens to laugh. the tears of the sky touch his face, and he has never been more angelic.

"oh, you delight me so, child of man."

[hxney-lemcn]

SOS — Overblots x gn! reader

summery: The one time you try to be proactive its like the world has it out for you; or, you get hurt while cleaning Ramshackle dorm and the overblot boys are the one who helps you.

tw: mentions of blood, injury, Malleus is a bit overdramatic...so is Grim.

wc: 1.8k (~230 each character)

Master List

No phone, no tv, not even a book. Not wanting to leave the comfort of your dorm, you decide to start something you’ve been putting off for quite some time now. Cleaning. You started with the living quarters, then the kitchen, then the closet. When you finished with the first floor you decided you’d clean your room and be done. Fate seemed to not be on your side, as when you climbed up the creaky steps, one step was a bit too creaky. When you put your full weight on it, you let out a gasp as the wood gave out from under you. Yes, that's right, your dorm was so run down that the stairs gave out on you. And there you lay in pain, no way to contact anyone. Thankfully, Grim came back from whatever he was doing to avoid helping you clean, you had never seen him look so horrified when he found you among the rubble of wood, splinters galore with bruises and scratches covering your skin. You also never saw Grim run so fast for something that wasn’t his premium cans of tuna. You could only hope he could find help quickly, it felt like something was wrong with your ankle and you wanted to get help asap.

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

At first, Riddle watched the panicked Grim wearily. He was always with the Aduece duo so he thought Grim was panicked from their troubling shenanigans. Instead, he felt his heart drop when Grim sputtered your name among the words fallen and hurt. Riddle rushed to the Ramshackle dorm with Cater and Trey in tow. When he found you, battered and bruised he felt his blood boil. He knew your dorm was run down, that it needed repair, but he didn’t think that Crowley would be so neglectful to the point of it harming someone. He would have to have a stern talking to the headmaster after he knew you were treated properly. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to carry you as he…was small for the average man…but he made sure Trey held you gently, constantly asking how you feel and if there’s anything he can get you to help. As soon as you were in the infirmary being treated, he marched his way straight to the headmasters office. No way was he going to allow this to continue, Crowley must renovate your dorm this instant and he won’t settle for less. In the meantime, he’ll take care of you in his dorm, you were basically a Heartslabyul student already, so it made sense. Don’t worry, prefect, he’ll help you while you're injured, although the extra attention you get from everyone makes him a little jealous.

❥ Leona Kingscholar

He was trying to get some rest when your little pest of a rat came bothering him. He opened one eye to glare, confused as to why Grim would be crying. Leona could barely make out what the creature was blubbering about, snapping at him to speak clearly. So when Grim finally managed to shout that you're critically injured and you're going to die and you need help, Leona didn’t hesitate, grabbing the rat by his scruff and stalking towards your dorm. He’ll be damned if you're hurt, what did you even do to get into that state? He swears you are such a headache. His green eyes scanned your dorm, finally falling upon your form in a heap of wood, your weak cry of his name making his ear twitch. So many emotions pooled into him as he noted every little scratch. Although he grumbled, ears twitching and tail swaying angrily, he held you softly, making sure not to hurt you anymore than you already were. And no, clearly your dorm was falling apart, no way in hell was he letting you go back. You were treated much better that time you both shared his room, so what’s the problem? You’re stuck with him now, herbivore. Don’t worry that silly little head of yours, he’ll make sure he clears things up with Crowley.

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

Poor, poor Grim. As he ran out, tears blurring his vision, he cried out for help to the first shadowy figure he could. Unfortunately that was Floyd and Jade. The two eels grinned toothily, Grim once again being perfect prey…though they paused as Grim mentioned your name. Floyd asked what was wrong with shrimpy, and that’s when Grim cried out about how you're a bloody heap of a mess, dying alone as they speak. Jade quickly pulls his phone out, alerting Azul of the current circumstance as his brother is already making his way towards your dorm. Although the Leech twins can be cruel, you were not only their friend, but their boss’s love, and so when they found you, not in as dire of a situation as Grim made it be (you were clearly hurt, but not dying), they gently pried the wood off of you and carried you to the infirmary. Azul was already there, waiting anxiously, his heart dropping when he saw your state. You gave him a strained smile, and his heart broke, even with your terrible injuries, you’re still trying to comfort him. Don’t worry prefect, he and the twins will watch over you until the last scratch seals and the last bruise fades. Oh, and your dorm? Don’t worry about that, Azul will make sure Crowley pays the price for his negligence towards you. He has his ways, after all.

❥ Jamil Viper

When Jamil spots Grim running towards him, he feels his headache growing worse. Kalim had been worse than usual with his spending, and now he’ll have to deal with another problem. That headache grows ten times worse when Grim manages to sputter about how you’re hurt and need help. Without a second thought, Jamil drops his current task, rushing to your dorm. His heart was pounding, scared of just how hurt you could be, why that was, and if he was too late. You’ve been the only thing keeping him sane lately, and he wasn’t sure what he’d do without you. When he found you dazed with wood surrounding you he dropped to your side, assessing the damage done before doing his best to pick you up. Once you were safe and sound in the infirmary, he tried to stay by your side for as long as he could. He didn’t mind the idea of tending to you, especially not with you in this state. But his duty lied elsewhere, and eventually he had to wrench himself away, but only when you fell asleep peacefully and that it was confirmed that you’d recover well. What surprised him was when Kalim told him to take care of you, that he could take care of himself for the time being (he couldn’t and Jamil knew that)...and now you were a Scarabia student, both Kalim and Jamil refused to allow you back into that decrepit dorm and hurt yourself any further.

❥ Vil Schoenheit

Rook and Vil were actually on their way to see you when they stumbled upon a sniveling, sobbing, Grim. They watched him as he mumbled and muttered, spewing incoherent sentences. Vil stared at him with a sharp look, telling him to get to the point. He felt his heart drop when your name was spouted along with hurt and dying. Without a second thought, Rook took off towards your dorm, Vil not far behind. He cared for you far too much to just sit around when you needed his help. He hadn’t even managed to enter your dorm, Rook already carrying you out. Vil rushed to your side, moving your hair out of your face and inspecting you for anything that was death threatening. His heart continued to break as you complained about the pain on the way to the infirmary. He did his best to comfort you, promising to treat you to whatever you wish once you were fully healed. By the end of the day, he’s already finished giving an ultimatum to Crowley. If he doesn’t repair Ramshackle, then not only will he expose him, but he’ll make sure you're taken into Pomefiore and treated properly. He won’t let such an offense be taken lightly. 

❥ Idia Shroud

Grim was lucky he ran into Ortho. The humanoid android may look small, but he’s got strength. Grim was sobbing to the point of hysteria, unable to properly communicate the dire situation. Thankfully, Ortho doesn’t need any convincing, only following the poor creature scrambling back to Ramshackle dorm. When Ortho saw you collapsed in a heap of rubble his inner alarms blared. An emergency signal was sent to Idia, and when Ortho sent the message of bringing you to the infirmary he felt a rush of panic hit him. Scrambling, he turned on the security camera footage, watching with wide eyes at you in Ortho’s arms. You had blood and bruising, dear seven what happened? His fear of your well being overpowered his fear of everything else, and he quickly ran…walked to the infirmary. He awkwardly stayed by your side as Ortho fetched whatever you needed, his eyes tracing over every scratch and cut. He felt like it was his fault somehow. You looked better with the blood wiped off though, and you weren’t in critical condition. When you jokingly mentioned that even stairs were your enemy here Idia frowned. He anonymously messages Crowley while you sleep, sending clips that could ruin his career. He won’t release them, as long as Crowley rebuilds Ramshackle to be as spick and span as any other dormitory. 

❥ Malleus Draconia

The second Grim stumbles upon Malleus and snaps out of his hysteria. The fear of the powerful being overwhelms him for a second before he pitifully mutters that you need help. Malleus only tilts his head at the tiny creature before nodding, silently asking him to lead the way. At first Malleus didn’t think much of it, only happy that you needed his help. That was until he heard your weak whimper, then saw your frail body mutilated by debris…yeah he’s the most dramatic one. Although you were hurt you definitely weren’t mutilated. He’s also the most gentle, carefully cupping your face as the wood that surrounded you was instantly incinerated. Every wince or whimper as he lifted you up was met with profound apologies, like he was the one who hurt you instead of rotting infrastructure. Instead of taking you to the infirmary, he takes you to his room where he brings only the best healers. Please don’t try to stop him, this is for your well being, and he won’t settle for mediocre. Lilia only encourages him, and his retainers are no help. So you're stuck in the biggest bed with the silkiest sheets…actually it's dangerous that you were brought here because you're not sure you could go back to the itchy thin cotton sheets you’ve been stuck using as blankets. Though, you won’t really have to worry about that because Malleus has already made the decision to keep you with him in his room…well if you’re not comfortable with that then he’ll give you your own room and he’ll make sure it has the best amenities. Just don’t mind that it's right next to his room.

[queenendless]

💀🎃👻Spooky Greetings👻🎃💀

A/n: This literally came to mind when I saw something similar in the actual game event. First time posting twst content here. This may get a sequel. Gonna try to post variety spooky content here cause HAPPY OCTOBER YALL!

SPOILERS for the new Halloween game event going on, somewhat. Also, a bit of Skully x fem!reader and implied fem!reader x the twst bois shown/tagged down below. Short Harem drama, kinda. Not much. But I think it ain't half bad.

*DON'T STEAL, COPY, EDIT, REPOST AND TRANSLATE MY FANFIC WORK. REBLOG, LIKE, FOLLOW PLS N THNX.*

“Hello, my lovely~”

The moment this new strapping figure — “Skully J. Graves at your service~” — appeared holding you in his arms as you awoke, you were awestruck at the spooky strapping young man.

After introducing all of yourselves, watching him kiss the hand of your schoolmates was amusing; seeing their appalled expressions. Guessing they don't get that brand of greeting often, huh?

Him kissing Grim's cheek had his fur stand on end to your delight.

And yet?

The moment he took your hand — only to pull you in and kiss you smack dab on the lips?

You felt the fires of envy and hate turn ablaze as the various pairs of eyes glowed outrageously.

Many hands, gloved or not, snatched him off you.

And all hell broke loose.

“Get your grubby hands off my beloved, you cretin!” Riddle turned red even his paled up Gothic aesthetic; Trey holding the struggling boy back in his arms.

“He means MY herbivore, skeletal bastard.” Leona growled in Skully’s face as he grabbed his collar.

“On the contrary, MY angel isn't up for auction when it comes to kisses from mere worms.” Azul's irked smile gave off unpleasantness.

“Oho? That doesn't seem to be the case, surely.” Jade jested to his boss's ire.

“MY jewel’s already doing so, octo pimp. That goes for you too, street rat.” Jamil hissed them both back and forth.

“Have you no manners of consent, you mongrel? Besides, my darling Y/n has better taste than you all. Me, for example.” Vil flaunted in the others irked faces; Epel looked just about done at this point.

“Don't you dare take away my Otaku goddess, you noob!” Idia gripped dramatically to the others nuisance. 

“How dare you lay a finger on my beloved human.” Malleus spoke doom.

The air around them crackled with literal lightning as emerald flames had his hands full.

“My future Queen … prepare yourself … FOR HELL.”

“WAKA-SAMA!” Sebek switched to fanboy mode at his God's might.

“For once, we're on the same page.” Leona's smirk sent his way spoke volumes as he dropped Skully before the dragon prince.

“TSUNATARO, STAND DOWN! ALL OF YOU, PLEASE!” You got in the way to defend the new anime boy from the others' united wrath, especially Malleus's. “One kiss is not that big of a deal.”

You could hear a pin drop now as everyone, even Skully, viewed you as if you had two heads.

“Good grief. Ya sure you're not magical? Cause you're bewitching them into lovestruck fools. And you're not dating any of ‘em. God, you're an idiot.” Grim griped.

Leona, Jamil, and Sebek appeared as glowing eyed phantom monsters ready for the kill. “YOU'RE ONE TO TALK, FUR BALL!!!”

Yet Skully looked unperturbed, his charming toothed smile arised, as Grim got chased by three SSR dressed pissed off mages. “Oya oya … What a lively bunch, you all are. And all because I took a kiss from your sweet lips, lovely Y/n. But if you are single, then may I ask you out?”

“NO!!!” All the former overblot cases now turned bachelors for your token affections shouted in unison.

Trey, Jade and Epel and you hung your head in exasperation.

Ah, quite the Harem dilemma.

Halloween coated, no less.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Escapism.

Commissioned by the very lovely @twst-ophelia.

Pairing: Yandere!Dorm Leaders x Reader (TWST).

Word Count: 4.0k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Dub/Con, Prolonged Imprisonment, Physical/Psychological Abuse, Slight Marking, Disassociation, and Possessive Behavior.

The mirror would be ready to use, by now.

Really, that’d been your first mistake – forgetting what you’d learned during your first months in this strange new place, having enough faith in the friends you’d made and your own middling abilities to tell anyone and everyone you could find that you were finally going home. You’d been over-eager, blinded by joy, and within a week of Crowly admitting that he’d found a way to return you to your own world using the Magic Mirror, it’d been common knowledge across all of Twisted Wonderland that it’d only be a few more weeks before you were returned to your own world. Ace teased you for being so eager to drop out halfway through your third year and Grim stuck to your side with twice his usual clinginess, and despite the bittersweetness of knowing you’d likely never be able to come back, you were happy. You were alright with leaving them, so long as it meant you could go home.

And you did leave them, in a way. If you looked at it from a certain angle.

You just didn’t get to go home.

There was a wet, slick noise, then a pang of pure agony racing from your cunt to your core. Involuntarily, you jerked away from the painful sensation, but it was an effort made in vain. The heavy arm wrapped around your waist only coiled tighter, your back soon drawn flush against a broad chest. Leona’s tail swatted contentedly at the down-stuffed mattress as he let out a low, airy chuckle. “Not gonna get away that easily,” he muttered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Remember what happened last time you tried to act-up? I don’t think the basement’s gotten any warmer.”

Basement. Calling it a basement would be like calling him a housecat. You’d been locked in that dark, frigid dungeon of a cellar for days before Azul – because he was the one you scratched, the one who got to decide how cruel your punishment was going to be – let you out, and even then, it’d taken another week of huddling by barely-smoldering fireplaces and wrapping yourself in any shred of fabric you could find to shake the chill that’d lodged itself underneath your skin. You stopped trying to lash out at them, after that. As much as their so-call ‘affection’ scared you, their anger scared you that much more.

You couldn’t be sure how they’d gotten their hands on a place like this – ancient and only a step above decrepit. Their means weren’t exactly limited, not with a prince and the heir to a fortune that might as well have made him royalty funding their little venture, but it was still hard to imagine the people you’d gone to school with keeping you locked inside of an abandoned castle, surrounded only by more woodland than you could ever hope to walk through. It might’ve been more enjoyable (or, bearable, at least) if your captors had taken a more absentee approach, if they’d given you time to adjust to being in the middle of a never-ending forest with only stone walls and dust-covered furniture for company, but no, at least one of them always seemed to be at no more than arm’s length, there to remind you exactly why you’d been relegated to the role of princess, trapped in her tower. You’d never been able to call any of them your friends, and yet, the betrayal still stung.

“Would you keep your mouth shut?” Vil mumbled, with a particularly sharp movement of his wrist. The heel of his palm ground into your clit, and against your better judgement, you withered into Leona – the sound of your pulse beating in your ears deafening, but still not enough to mask the deep, self-satisfied purr rising from his chest. “You’re frightening the poor thing. Look at her eyes – they’re practically glazed over.”

 “Is she scared, or just bored half-to-death by your shitty excuse for a handjob?” He bowed his head, nipping playfully at the corner of your jaw. Of all your captors, he was the most fond of marking what he considered to be his property – even more so if he had a captive audience. “If I was the one between her legs, she’d be feelin’ too good to think about anything else. She’d already be fucked good n’ dumb.”

“That’s not—” The air caught in your throat as Vil spread his fingers apart, but you fought to go one. “I don’t feel anything when you—”

Vil pulled out of you entirely, only for his hand to come down on your pussy with a harsh, slick crack. You couldn’t swallow back your pained cry, couldn’t stop yourself from shrinking further into Leona. “No lying, now, darling. You know how easy it is to hurt his feelings.” He paused, then glanced over his shoulders. Blearily, your attention drifted to the doorway of your bedroom – to Riddle, standing stiffly on the other side other side of the threshold. You stiffened, but Vil didn’t seem surprised. “Going to watch today, Rosehearts?”

Obviously. As complicit as they all seemed with your imprisonment, there were a few – Riddle, Idia, Azul – that withheld from treating your prolonged abuse like a group project. You’d been surprised, at first, that Vil wasn’t a part of that collective, but his tendency towards exhibitionism made sense. He couldn’t love what he couldn’t flaunt, even if his audience was limited to a handful of former classmates.

“O-of course not,” Riddle stuttered out, predictably. His pale face was tinted a nearly violent shade of red. “I just wanted to make sure you two weren’t hurting her.”

You felt Leona’s grin against your throat. “Hear that, pretty girl?  He thinks we’d hurt you.” The space Vil left vacant was quickly filled – three of his calloused fingers soon filling your drenched pussy. You clenched your eyes shut, grit your teeth, but that did little to stop him from burrowing his claws into your side and tearing a little, cracked whimper through your sealed lips. “Don’t see him doing much to stop us, though.”

Vil only offered an unimpressed shake of his head, but Riddle straightened. “Are you implying that I couldn’t—”

“I’m saying that you won’t.” Leona cut him off swiftly, the edge in his tone sharped and playful. “Not if you want the next turn.”

For a moment, Riddle didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything.

Then, with a pointed glare, he turned on his heel and abandoned your bedroom altogether, likely dedicating himself to finding another part of this terrible castle to wait Leona out in.

As soon as his footsteps faded out of earshot, Leona’s teeth were buried in the curve of your throat – drawing blood in an instant.

~

Out of all your captors, it was Kalim who’d disappointed you the most.

You hadn’t expected this from the others, but in hindsight, you wouldn’t put it above them, either. Azul had never been able to draw a line between what he wanted and what he could have, Riddle had never been able to keep his base impulses at bay for very long, and Leona… well, Leona couldn’t be bothered to pretend he was interested in things like your ‘autonomy’ or ‘independence’. Kalim, though – he’d always been nice to you. Not overly kind, but nice, and in a place like NRC, that was something you’d been able to appreciate.

It almost didn’t make sense to see him in a place like this, to connect his presence here with the looming fact of your continual imprisonment. It didn’t make sense that the boy who’d once thrown a parade to celebrate you finally accepting an invitation to one of his banquets would be resting his hands on your shoulders, his eyes fixed on your reflection in a pearl-lined vanity as he pulled what felt like the hundredth gem-studded necklace into place at the base of your throat. You didn’t need jewelry. They rarely gave you anything to wear outside of loose-fitting, sheer dresses and the occasional piece of lingerie, but Kalim would’ve plucked the moon from the sky if it meant he could give it to you in a velvet-lined box. That was what he’d told you, at least, the first time you’d turned him down.

Actually, maybe you didn’t deserve to feign surprise. They’d all tried to do it the right way before their graduations, whether it was Vil beckoning you to sit on his lap during a dorm leader meeting or Riddle turning a dozen shades of pink as he asked if you’d care to attend an Unbirthday Party as his guest, sometime. You’d turned them all down, batting Leona’s hand away before it could settle on your shoulder, telling Azul you wouldn’t trust him as a business partner, let alone a boyfriend. Between school and a new apocalypse-scenario every other week, you never had the time (let alone the energy or desire) to date, as idiotic as it sounded to suggest that any of this could’ve started with a handful of schoolyard crushes. Maybe, if you’d given them a chance to see that it wouldn’t have worked out on their own terms, it wouldn’t have come to this. Maybe, you would’ve gotten to go home.

Or, maybe, you just would’ve been snatched up before that thread of hope could ever be dangled in front of you. Either way, a preferable alternative.

“The sapphires were a better fit,” Azul chimed in as Kalim pulled the next necklace into place – a loose riviere studded with rubies. It was the fifth of as many variants, only differentiated by the color of the jewel. Kalim claimed that he’d only meant to get you one, but ever the glutton, he hadn’t been able to choose. “Red is such a garish color. Our little princess deserves to feel as royal as we treat her, doesn’t she?”

If Kalim noticed the barb, he didn’t seem to mind. “I think you look beautiful in red,” he said, leaning down to push a kiss into your temple. His smile was as bright as it’d ever been, and you hated him that much more for it. “Then again, you look beautiful in everything. Why don’t you keep them all?”

You opened your mouth, ready to tell him where he could shove his jewelry, but you were cut off by the shutter of a camera, the hint of a flash in your peripheral. You glanced towards Azul, who only shrugged in response., sinking further into his armchair “For Idia. He’s going to be tied up with a research project for another week or so, and for whatever reason, it’s fallen on my shoulders to make sure that he doesn’t completely succumb to his self-pity and throw the gates of Tartarus open.” He thought, for a moment. “For a second time, I mean.”

You couldn’t be sure why you said it. It was an instinct, a knee-jerk reaction to grab the first blade you saw and twist it. Idia was, by far, the most distant of your captors, and when he did show his face, he barely spoke and never touched you. Even in a castle of rapists and kidnappers, he’d found a way to make himself an outsider.

“Azul?” You made a point of keeping your eyes on your reflection as you went on. “Could you tell Idia I want to see him again? When he has time, I mean.”

There was a beat of silence, then another.

Finally, Kalim forced out an only partially strained laugh, squeezing your shoulders with just a little too much force. “Is something wrong? If you want to ask for something, you don’t have to wait for Idia.”

You didn’t bother trying to respond to him. “Please, Azul?”

From the corner of your eye, you watched him glance between you and Kalim. Eventually, he let out an airy sigh and nodded. “Of course, sweetheart. Although, I do have to wonder what you’re getting up to.”

Your only answer came in the form of a tight smile, a slight shrug. Kalim didn’t waste time taking up the next necklace: a choker of braided strands of pure, glittering gold. This time, he fastened it tightly enough to bruise.

~

You almost felt bad for Idia, when you let yourself think about what you were doing.

Almost.

The bare skin of his chest was warm under your palm, the flames of his hair tinted a deep pink - a color you might’ve found charming, in any other situation. He was beneath you, currently, his face half-buried in a pillow while you rolled your hips idly against his, your pace slow and careless. He wasn’t as authoritative as Leona, as demanding as Riddle, and you liked that about him. But, his submissiveness meant you had to do most of the work, which you liked less.

At least he tried to pretend that he didn’t like it. Bias caused conflict, and his occasional encounters with the others wilted before shriveling into complete nonexistence shortly after you declared him your unlikely favorite. Even now, he kept his eyes clenched shut, his bottom lip caught between his pointed teeth as your pussy clenched around him. You’d gone numb to pleasure in the first weeks of your captivity, but any amount of physical contact seemed to overwhelm him. It might’ve been refreshing, if you hadn’t been so, so exhausted.

Gradually, your movements slowed, your body stilling on top of his. A second passed before he opened one of his eyes, his kiss-swollen lips quirking downward in mixed disappointment and frustration. “W-Why did you stop?”

With an exaggerated sigh, you collapsed onto him, slotting your chest against his and propping your chin on his collarbone. “I never made it to graduate,” you said, absentmindedly, relying on the haze of lust to hide just how flat your voice was. “Never got to say goodbye to anyone, either, but that was never going to happen. The other are too mean to me for that.”

His expression took on a somber lull. It might’ve been more believable if you hadn’t been able to feel his cock twitching inside of you. “I… I’m sorry. I wanted to wait, but Azul said— and Leona—”

“I know, I know.” You kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “It’s not your fault. I just—”

You cut yourself off with another sigh, just as unbelievable as the first. Thankfully, Idia was eager to take the bait. “Whatever it is, I can do it for you. I’d do anything for you.” His shaking hands found their way to your waist. “I love you.”

“I want to see Ramshackle again,” you said, without hesitation. Immediately, you felt him stiffen against you, and let your tone drag into something desperate, something pleading. “Just this once. I won’t even go inside, and Night Raven’s on break, right now. No one’s going to be on campus.” You paused, pecked the corner of his lips. “Please, Idia. Nobody else has to know.”

He still looked skeptical, but he was going to break your heart, he wasn’t going to do it while his cock was still pulsing inside of you. After only a moment of hesitation, he let out a shallow breath and nodded hastily. “One trip. And the other never find out.”

Instantly, you brightened, beaming as you pulled him into a deep, lasting kiss – a proper kiss, this time, something you’d never willingly imitated with any of your captors. He would know that. He wasn’t the most domineering, but if the hidden cameras dotted across your bedroom were anything to go by, he had his own kind of competitive streak.

A hitched moan reverberated against your mouth. With your arms still wrapped around his neck, your chest still pressed into his, he started to move on his own – his fingers digging into your hips as he thrust into you from below. His pace was unsteady, his rhythm nonexistent, but your clit scraped against the flattened plane of his pubic bone and however meager it might’ve been, there was just enough stimulation to melt into. Vaguely, you were aware of a distant whimpering, of Idia’s face buried in the crook of your neck, but you let it fade into the background – into the constant fog of static that’d been cast over your conscious mind since you woke up in this terrible place.

When you felt his teeth scrape over the curve of your throat, it was all you could do to close your eyes and think of home.

~

“It’s a pretty basic teleportation scheme,” he’d explained, as he led you through the castle’s entryway after pulling you out of your bed in the middle of the night. The winter air cut through your thin dress without mercy, but you’d fought not to shiver, not to give him a reason to second-guess if he should be doing this. Right now, he was convinced he loved you more than he feared letting you get away, and you couldn’t do anything to break that delusion. “Ortho handled most of the hardware, but he was following my designs. The NRC waypoint was supposed to be a limited-time mechanic, but I never cut it out of the system. It should still work – for a couple trips, at least.”

You’d let him ramble about how many hours it’d taken to put together, nodded enthusiastically as he described all the effort he’d poured into ruining your life. He kept his hand locked around yours as he led you onto a shining, steel platform, only letting go to punch the coordinates into his tablet. There was a flash of light, a slight buzzing in your ears, and then, you were standing in front of the gates to Night Raven College, already open and waiting for your arrival.

You didn’t wait for Idia to move, to say anything. Rather, you let the gem shard (pilfered from one of Kalim’s more recent attempts to win back your attention; the jewel in its entirety had been larger than your balled fist) that you’d stowed away in your sleeve fall into your hand and stabbed the jagged end into his back. You didn’t wait to see if the wound took before breaking into a sprint towards the Hall of Mirrors.

You’d be able to see, later on, that it was far from the best idea you’d ever had. There was a good chance Crowley abandoned any work he might’ve started as soon as you went missing, if he really had found a way to send you hope at all. The injury you’d dealt to Idia was far from fatal, and you’d be in for more than just a few days in the cellar if they caught you, but the desire to get out of here, to go home drowned out your better judgement – leaving your tired mind empty and your body dependent on pure, unadulterated desperation as you ran towards the familiar, pitch-black dome on the outskirts of campus. Your skirt snagged on roots and twigs, your bare feet numb and aching in-turns, but you didn’t dare to slow down, to look behind you. By the time you reached the Hall of Mirrors, your throat was dry, your heart beating in your ears. Thankfully, the door had been left unlocked, and you shouldered your way inside.

The Magic Mirror stood, dark and stoic, in the center of the room. You allowed yourself a single breath of relief, a moment to let the past few months— no, the past three years of your life melt away before moving toward it.

You made it all of two, three steps before something sprung from the darkness and wrapped around your ankle – cutting into your flesh and, with a sudden jerk, dragging you to the floor. You stifled a scream, reflexively moving to tear at your new restraints, but froze when you saw exactly what you were caught in.

A thick braid of vines wrapped around your leg – except they weren’t vines, not really.

They were briars.

Rows upon rows of hooked thorns were embedded into the skin of your calf, drawing blood wherever they made contact. The pain was instant, searing, but you didn’t care – tearing at your bondage even as the thorns bit into your hands, as the rope of briars drew that much tighter. Tears blurred your vision, and so distracted by your own misery and panic, you almost didn’t notice the sound of clipped heels against marble floors, the dark shadow that soon blocked out what little light you had. You didn’t have to look at him. You already knew who it was.

In the end, though, you weren’t given much of a choice.

You really should’ve been more used to that, by now.

A gloved hand caught you by the chin, forcing you to tilt your head back and meet Malleus’ expectant, prying stare. He took a moment to evaluate your ragged dress, the bruising and love-bites painted down your neck before a small smile came to rest over his lips; the barest hint of pointed teeth catching in the moonlight. “And to think, I thought it was only nostalgia drawing me back to this lonely place.” He spared a glance toward the mirror. “And I suppose you plan to use that ancient thing to return to your own world?”

“Malleus,” you gasped his name, hoping that would be enough to communicate the depths of your despair. “I don’t have a lot of time, I— They’re coming for me, and—” You cut yourself off, swallowing harshly. “I want to go home.”

His only response came in the form of a low hum, dull and dismissive. All it took was a snap of his fingers, a certain glint in his narrowed eyes, and the mirror shattered into more pieces than you could ever hope to put back together.

This time, you couldn’t swallow back the ragged sob that tore past your lips, the pathetic noise echoing off the stone walls. You tried to crawl towards the fractured pieces, but Malleus kneeled to your height, letting out a patronizing coo as he wrapped an arm around your midriff, pulling you against his chest and suffocating any possible hope you might’ve had for escape. Distantly, you were aware of a rush of footsteps, of a collar (as heavy as it was useless) snapping shut around your neck, but Malleus didn’t falter. With your limp body in his arms, he pushed himself to his feet, turning to face your captors where they’d clustered in the entryway.

It was Leona who spoke first, predictably. He never could let anyone else be the center of attention. “What do you want, Draconia?”

Malleus, on the other hand, was in no rush, letting his gaze fall back to you. “I was surprised, when I heard of her disappearance. I know how fragile mortal lives could be, but I thought, surely, a human who’d befriended so many powerful mages ought to be a little more enduring.”

After he finished, silence hung heavy in the air. Vil summoned his spell book, and Kalim’s fists clenched at his sides, his jealousy threatening to outweigh his pacifistic nature. None of it would’ve made a difference. If Malleus wanted to, he could reduce them all to ash with little more than a wayward thought. If Malleus wanted to, he wouldn’t need five other conspirators to have you at his mercy.

And yet, he only let out a breath of a laugh, holding you that much closer to his chest. “Then again, if I’d known those powerful mages would struggle to keep watch of such a precious item, I might’ve been less generous.”

“Get to the point.”

This time, he chose to obey. “It seems,” he started, bowing his head and letting his lips brush against your cheek. “As if you’re having trouble keeping this little one in line.”

His grin was wider and more satisfied than you’d ever seen it, before. Looking at him, you could only wonder how you have bothered trying to survive in a world that so clearly wasn’t meant for you.

“Would you consider making use of another pair of hands?”

[hanafubukki]

Excerpt: Tomorrow, tomorrow Malleus would return home. Without him. Lilia had planned to never return to Briar Valley. Now, he never would. His home lost forever. 

He sent them away. 

Two knights, haggard and stalwart, reluctant to leave. 

Lilia understood. 

They have sworn their life and fealty to Malleus Draconia.

Their care for him extended even beyond something as simple as duty and loyalty, 

But they needed their rest.

The journey tomorrow would be a taxing one. They’d need all the rest they could get. 

After tomorrow’s journey’s end, there would be no more knighthood for the two. They would need to look for a new path. Their chosen path too painful to continue now.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, Malleus will take his final journey home. Without him. Lilia had planned to never return to Briar Valley. Now, he never would. His home lost forever.

Malleus Draconia would be returning home in a coffin carried by his two knights. 

A coffin Lillia himself put together. Made with glass and magic.

Engraving and weaving intricate designs through slightly shaken hands. 

Cushioned with the finest silk Lilia could find on such short notice. A pillow cushion made for horns for one to sleep comfortably. Given long ago. 

Not as fine as it could be as a prince deserves.

But Lilia didn’t see the reason why it should be. 

Malleus was just a boy. 

His boy.

He didn’t deserve to have his sleep cold and unfamiliar. 

He should be surrounded by that which he loves and made him comfortable.

And this was just that. 

Tomorrow. 

Malleus would return home.

Lilia would remain behind. 

It wasn’t shame or grief that stayed his hand. He would rather be quartered and shamed in front of all of Briar Valley for not protecting Malleus. 

He was simply too tired to make the journey. 

A truly cowardice move on his part.

He didn’t think he could watch them lower Malleus’ body into a special pit made for his burial; in a mausoleum made for past royalty without throwing himself into it to join him.

A Father couldn’t bury his own son. He didn’t have that strength in him. 

Trembling fingers wipes at stinging eyes. No, he can’t.

Not right now.

He doesn’t want his tears to mar Malleus.

He bathed Malleus with fragrances of evergreen and the sweetness of vetiver and oak moss.

He smelled like home.

Lilia has never prayed to a higher being before. 

Rarely believed in them.

Having seen what he had. War. Bloodshed. Death.

But he prays now.

Please 

Please.

It was too quiet. 

Bath time was never this quiet. 

Running after a spitfire. Once on four legs and then two. Stumbling. Always hating bath time.

It was loud. It tested Lilia’s speed even back then.

But they both adored it.

Lilia prays.

Please. 

It’s too quiet. 

His prayers go unheard. 

Lilia smooths the silk, tucking it close. He didn’t want him to be cold. Lilia moves the gifts lovingly given close to Malleus, knowing how he would have preferred to have them next to him.

Malleus is cold. Too cold.

He stares at the items before him:

Lilia remembers passing by Silver’s room a few days prior. Broken sobs muffled by the door. Lilia hesitated for a moment. Contemplating passing by, letting the boy deal with his grief. No. How could he? When it was restraints and buried feelings that led them all to this situation? 

When Lilia enters the room, it’s to a hunched back and shaking hands. The moon reflects silver strands but what stands out the most is the brown of acorns spread around. Lilia is quick to hug Silver and the boy breaks down in his arms. 

An acorn bracelet. 

To live a long and healthy life.

He remembers watching Sebek when the boy thought he was alone, chipping away at stone and wood.

Over and over.

At every chance he could.

Sebek had chosen to wrought a crest of his own design, to wish his lord happiness and reunion. For him to be surrounded by love.

Lilia watched him silently, supporting him from the shadows. 

Lilia’s eyes blurs as he lays a hand over the plush.

A gargoyle plush.

He had seen it during one of his travels. Had thought of Malleus right away.

Malleus loved gargoyles even from a young age. Lilia recalls the excitement he felt when he gave the young one his present.

Malleus’ smile had been worth it. His smile bright as he hugged the plush close to him until Lilia had called it a gargoyle, then he had pouted and called it a grotesque because, “It had no use.”

Lilia remembers the laugh he gave out then, “Of course it has a purpose, it’s to protect you when I’m not around. He’ll protect you until I arrive, be it from your dreams or anyone until I arrive.”

Malleus had smiled wide with fangs then, cheeks slightly red with childlike joy as he hugged Lilia.

Lilia had thought Malleus had outgrown it. Having not seen it for decades.

What a surprise it had been to find it on his bed. When he had finally, finally, taken the courage to enter his room.

A frail and old thing. Mended over and over. With stitches uneven to expertly sewn. From the nimble hands of a child to that of an adult.

Lilia recalls breaking down right then and there. Clutching the plush to his chest. Rocking back and forth as if he held a child.

His boy. His boy. Where is he now? Why won’t he awaken? Why won’t he answer?

The scent of evergreen was still fresh from where he had buried his head. A plush still in use. Lilia cried til his voice was hoarse.

A journey’s end. 

His end.

Never again would he see that smirk 

Nor calm a storm's anger 

Never again would he be able to pat midnight strands as they looked upon him with fondness.

Never again would he be able to say-

I love you 

Lilia's knees hit the floor.

I love you.

Lilia gasped. 

His breathing coming quicker, uneven. 

Malleus knew.

He had to know.

Right? 

“The Senate! Even Grandmother lied!”

No. Malleus had to have known.

“What dream would you like, Lilia? One with mother and father? One where you live happily with Silver?”

Frame shaking. 

No. 

Did he never say? 

Hands clawed into his face.

No. No. No!

He must have.

He never did.

Lilia dragged his body up, heavier than ever before.

Ignoring the stinging from the cuts he made.

Please.

Body barely holding himself over the one in eternal sleep.

A hand gently cupping a too-cold cheek.

Lilia prays.

The Great Seven.

The Thorn Fairy.

Any Powers That Be.

Please let him hear these words now.

It's too late.

It's too late.

Lilia grits his teeth against the wobble of incoming grief.

Please.

I beg of you.

Let him hear me.

"I love you."

Words spoken in a cracked voice.

"I love you, Malleus."

Lilia sobbed, clutching at the robe beneath him.

Don't take him aw-

"I love you too, Lilia."

He froze.

His heart stopped, and the very blood in his veins froze, but it was the hand on his own that had his gaze shooting up.

Soft green stares back at him as tears fall from one freshly awoken.

A desperate cry with a flurry of movement.

Hands desperately clutching and pulling Malleus to his chest. Ignoring and uncaring of the damage he caused to fine silk clothes.

His Heart.

His Heart Returned.

A wail vibrated the walls alerting the heavens high above.

A sound unheard of for centuries.

True Love brought back a Son to His Father.

Happy 1 Year Anniversary to Baby Malleus hatching and to the love that changed Lilia Vanrouge forever. You both worked so hard and I’m so proud of you two. I love them both so much. True Love My Beloveds. 😭🥳💞

I’ve been working on this project for about a few months on and off (it was fighting me as much as I was fighting it; while half the time sick lolol) 😂😆. It’s a project that I was very passionate about, so I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it. This fic started because of the need, the need damnit, I have of Lilia and Malleus to say “I love you” to each other verbally. You know what they say, make your own wishes come true.☺️🥰💞

Shout out to my beta reader, @world-of-hearts, Amy for beta reading this and all the feedback/ideas she indulges me with when I go to her for opinions. Some of these scenes (like Sebek’s gift) were influenced by our talks and picking at each other brains.💕🫶💚🫂

There are deleted scenes, commentary, and some fun facts that I included below that I hope you guys will like 💕🫶 (I haven’t had a fic with deleted scenes, etc. in such a long while, so you know I was going all out with my battle with this story lolol). I am rambling too much lolol. I'm just excited to share this piece. 🌺💕💚

Thank you so much for reading. ☺️🙏💚

Deleted Scenes:

Silver’s Acorn Bracelet:

Lilia shakes and recalls words that would be branded in his mind forever. 

“It was a gift that even Malleus was jealous of.”

“You always asked me if I was envious. What if I am?”

He would have been, wouldn’t he and Lilia was blind to it all. 

An acorn bracelet that could grant long life let alone bring back a loved one. 

A gift given out of love.

A gift that would never have the chance to do as intended. 

(AN: I didn’t keep this scene because I didn’t want the gifts to be ‘useless’ nor did I want the scenes to get to depressing. Because these gifts are given out of love and thought, it wouldn’t feel right for their feelings to reflect bitterness and what could have beens.

And yes if that line, “You always asked me if I was envious. What if I am?” Seemed familiar, it is. It’s from this fic. You can technically think of this fic as a sequel to that one if you want.)

Sebek’s Gargoyle Gift:

Something from Sebek, he had seen Sebek toil away at tools and books during the few times he was relieved of his watch. Chipping at stone till hands are raw and grazed with cuts. Gargoyles. Sebek had chosen to put gargoyles. Something Malleus adored. Gargoyles. Ones who are feared and misunderstood but also strong and protectors. Just like Malleus. Lilia had offered to hang the gargoyles by the sides of the coffin, but Sebek refused. 

He wanted them with his liege, so he wouldn’t be lonely.  Gargoyle who became a grotesque. Purposeless and just for show. Just like him. 

(AN: The same reasoning as Silver’s this was taken out. I didn’t want a gift that given out of love to be seen so negatively even by the characters. After all, it was their last gift to their liege and someone they loved.)

Lilia’s Rose:

His vision blurs as he looks at the flower placed right next to Malleus’s head

A dried-up flower from Malleus-a memory Lilia revisits, magic low, only glimpses of a prideful yet shy smile, presenting him with a rose he had grown. Some petals singed from excitement, but shyly given.

Lilia had kept that flower, preserved it with magic; when his magic started fading so did the spell on the rose but he kept it safe and loved all the same.

(AN: I took this out because Malleus wouldn’t want Lilia to return his flower to him. Young Malleus gave it to him out of love for Lilia. Malleus would want Lilia to keep it and likewise, Lilia wouldn’t be able to part with it. It’s precious to him, just like the Acorn bracelet is.)

Malleus's Hug:

Malleus holding him just as tight, cries muffled against a shoulder that had felt big when he was younger but small to him now.

(AN: I did initially describe Malleus returning the hug but then took it out. This whole story was in Lilia’s POV and I wanted it to stay that way. It felt as if I was breaking the narrative a bit by switching and I didn’t want that. It started with Lilia and ended with Lilia.)

Fun Facts:

Malleus’ Scent

Vetiver, Oak Moss, and Evergreen are the scents described in Malleus’ Valentines 2024 room fragrance. It smells like the forest and while strong, it’s also has gentle tones. It smells like home to Lilia because it’s smells like the forest surrounding the cottage. The woods that protect his home and also the very lands Lilia has always known and grew up on.

It smells like home because it smells like Malleus since he was small to how he’s grown now. To Malleus, Briar Valley has always been his home; but most of all, it was that cottage that he felt the most comfortable and free.

You can read more about the scents and their details here

Lilia’s Heart = Malleus

There’s this special analysis that I will write based on this that I’m really looking forward to releasing. But essentially, as a preview for you all, it’s how Malleus is the reflection of Lilia’s heart. He is Lilia’s heart. Malleus, who is the reason why Lilia finally manifested his UM, is also the reflection of his soul.

You can kind of get the idea of what I mean UM wise through this fic. (Which you can also think of this fic as a sequel to if you choose.)

The Bathing Scene

The bathing scene is inspired from my culture. We bathe our dead loved ones and then wrap them in cloth. Of course in this, Malleus wasn’t wrapped in cloth but he was bathed by a loved one. In my culture, only those close to the one who passed away/family can do this ritual. During this bath, you’re not allowed to cry because that would take away “the purity” of the bath. So that’s why Lilia didn’t allow any of his tears to fall or touch Malleus.

I thought it was very fitting and a perfect way for Lilia to reflect his grief/cherished memories to show. When else would you wish for your prayers to come true the most? Except at this most vulnerable time?

Strikethroughs Texts

I don’t normally use too many strikethrough texts in my fics because I worry if it’s readable/hard to read for the audience. But for this fic, I made an exception.

I felt for Lilia and the story it was needed. My thought process was that the strikethrough texts was a part of Lilia that was keeping him together. A part of him that was in denial but also that part that is the last bit of strength and that inner voice in your head.

I don’t know if I’m explaining it well but when Lilia says, “I love you.” You’ll see the strikethrough texts are gone from then on. In this way, it shows he’s overcome that last bit that held him back. He was finally able to express himself and his love fully which leads to Malleus waking up from his True Love.

“Lilia’s knees hit the floor.”

This was the first scene written and literally everything came after. I had nothing else planned besides this line. This scene was the start. Something about the shock and impact of Lilia falling to his knees in realization. It just…it hits you? You know? Because it’s Lilia. And eventually, I was able to find the right ending to continue from there/end the story. It really is about trusting the process.

[amdanithegay]

One Last Picture

English Version:

Oneshot of Twisted Wonderland, events 10 years after Grim’s overblot and Yuu’s death…

Warnings: None

────୨ৎ────

Versión en español:

Oneshot de Twisted Wonderland, acontecimientos 10 años después del overblot de Grim y la muerte de Yuu…

Advertencias: Ninguna

English:

“Ten years. Ten years have passed since that day. That disastrous day when I watched you leave. I still remember it—I do every single day. My mind drifts back to those harsh moments: you lying on the ground, the crimson of your blood spread everywhere, the way your eyes lost their light, and the warmth of your body being replaced by the cold that signaled your departure. The aftermath of battle—cries and screams—filled the scene, and in your arms, he was there. I remember the deafening silence shattering into sobs and wails. Even now, the burning in my throat remains, tearing at me just like that day. I remember the tears scorching my face and how I clung to your body—already an empty shell—as if that would somehow keep you from leaving. Just like you clung to him.

Tell me, Yuu, why? Why, even in your final moments, did you use the last of your strength to save him? Why? Why would you protect the beast that took your life…?

.

.

.

As stubborn as ever. If you hadn’t had that stupid savior complex, you’d still be here with us… with us.

Ten years have passed, and we’ve changed so much. Would you be proud of us?

Where do I even start…? Deuce and I became police officers. We still have the same dynamic, but now we’re a little less stupid—or at least I like to think so. Epel went back to his hometown, and thanks to his hard work, his family business has grown. Their farm is famous now. Jack pursued sports and is now a world-class athlete—I wish you could see him in action, he’s incredible. And Sebek? From what I’ve heard, he’s now a general in the royal guard of the Briar Valley. Can you believe he’s even louder than before? Ha!

Our upperclassmen have also gone on with their lives, though we all still keep in touch. We even get together from time to time. Can you believe Riddle still puts that damn collar on me?! That bastard—I never even do anything! …Well, nothing too bad.

.

.

.

The only one who’s really isolated himself is Malleus… After your death, he became even more reclusive. He never leaves his castle—except to visit you, here at Ramshackle, where your ashes rest.

And… him.

Him. Grim. He doesn’t remember you. He doesn’t remember anything from that day. Not his overblot, not the destruction he caused, and least of all the life he took. You, Yuu.

Riddle says it’s a way of coping with trauma. That his mind represses those memories to protect itself. But why? Why does he get the luxury of forgetting everything while I’m forced to relive it every night for these past ten damn years?!

It’s unfair. So unfair.

He still lives here at NRC, in the staff area. Crowley took him in after you were gone, and now he’s the school’s mascot.

Why? Why him?! He gets to live, to chase his dreams, to make mistakes, to be happy. But you… You’re dead. Unfair.

HE WAS THE ONE WHO OVERBLOTTED. HE SHOULD HAVE DIED—NOT YOU!

.

.

.

It’s unfair…”

/The tears that burned my eyes finally spilled down my cheeks. The suffocating grief of your loss still haunts me. And the anger—the anger at myself for not saving you. For not being stronger, braver, more capable. Why wasn’t it me instead of you? Kneeling before your grave, before the small monument made in your honor, I cry like a child. I cry until I have no tears left. Deuce watches me—I can feel his eyes on my back. He’s been silent this whole time, letting me speak to you freely. Supposedly, that should make my soul feel lighter, but why does the emptiness you left behind still remain?I snap out of my trance when I feel a hand on my shoulder. A reminder that time is running out, and I need to finish my speech soon.

“Sorry… I know you’d scold me if you could hear me saying all this, but honestly… I miss it so much…

Ah, right! I brought something for you. It’s that camera Crowley gave you. It was destroyed in the battle, which is why it took us so long to fix it. We managed to recover some of the photos—so many beautiful memories, innocent moments frozen in time. Unfortunately, most of the pictures with you in them couldn’t be restored. Every photo of you was lost. All except one. That last picture before the tragedy. The one where we’re all together. The one that captures the calm before the storm. The last moment of happiness we ever had.

Yuu… you have no idea what I would give to go back to those days. No idea what I would do… for one last picture.”

Español:

“Diez años. Diez años han pasado desde aquel día. Aquel desastroso día en el que te vi partir. Aun lo recuerdo,lo hago cada día, mi mente vaga por esos duros momentos: tu tirado en el suelo, el carmesí de tu sangre exparsido por todo el lugar, el como tus ojos perdían su luz y el calor de tu cuerpo ser remplazado por aquel frío que anunciaba tu partida. Un rastro de batalla llantos y gritos acompañan la escena, y en tus brazos, estaba El . Recuerdo el silencio ruidoso romperse a gritos y llantos. Hasta ahora el ardor permanece en mi garganta, rasgándome como aquel día. Recuerdo las lágrimas quemar mi rostro y el como me aferraba con locura a tu cuerpo, ya un cascarón vacío, como si eso evitaría que te fueras. Así mismo como tú te aferrabas a El.

Dime Yuu, porque hasta el ultimo momento, incluso mientras morías, decidiste utilizar tus ultimas fuerzas para salvarlo. Por qué? Por qué querrías proteger a la bestia que arrebato tu vida…?

.

.

.

Tan testarudo como siempre, si no hubieras tenido ese estúpido complejo de salvador estarías aquí con nosotros…nosotros.

Diez años han pasado y hemos cambiado tanto, estarías orgulloso de nosotros?

Por donde empiezo?…Deuce y yo nos volvimos policías, seguimos manteniendo nuestra dinamica pero ahora somos menos imbeciles o eso quiero creer. Epel volvió a su pueblo, su negocio familiar a crecido gracias a su exfuerzo, ahora son una granja reconocida. Jack siguió el mundo del deporte y ahora es un atleta de clase mundial, ojalá pudieras verlo en acción, es sorprendente. Y Sebek por lo que oí es general de la guardia del rey en el Valle de Espinas, puedes creer que ahora es más ruidoso que antes?. Ja!

También estan nuestros mayores, todos han hecho sus vidas, aún así seguimos en contacto, de vez en cuando nos reunimos incluso. Te puedes creer que todavía Riddle mé pone ese maldito collar suyo!? Maldito, nunca hago nada—o bueno nada muy malo.

.

.

.

El unico que si se ha aislado ha sido Malleus…despues de tu muerte se ha vuelto mucho más solitario. No sale de su castillo a menos que sea para venir a verte, aqui en el Dormitorio Destartalado donde yacen tus cenizas.

Y…El

El, Grim, no te recuerda. No recuerda nada de lo sucedido ese día. Ni su overblot, ni la destruccion que causó y mucho menos la vida que arrancó. Tu, Yuu.

Riddle dice que es una forma de lidear con el trauma. Que su cerebro reprime todos esos recuerdos con tal de protegerse. Pero porque él tiene el lujo de olvidarlo todo y yo debo vivirlo cada noche todos los días durante estos diez malditos años!

Es injusto, muy injusto. El vive aquí en el NRC, en el área de staff. Crowley lo apadrinó después de tu partida y ahora es la “mascota” de la escuela.

Por qué? Por qué El!? El puede vivir, seguir sus sueños, cometer errores y ser feliz. Por otro lado Tu Tu estás muerto. Injusto…

EL FUE QUIEN TUVO EL OVERBLOT, EL DEBÍA MORIR NO TU!

.

.

.

Es injusto…”

/Las lágrimas que traicioneras irritaban mis ojos finalmente cayeron por mis mejillas. Aquella tristeza sofocante de tú pérdida persigue en mi. Y el enojo, el enojo conmigo mismo por no salvarte. Por no haber sido más fuerte, más valiente, más capaz. Por qué no fui yo en vez de tu. Delante de tu tumba y el pequeño monumento que se hizo en tu honor, lloro como un niño pequeño, lloro hasta que lágrimas no quedan. Deuce mé mira, siento sus ojos en mi. Ha estado callado todo este rato, dejándome expresar mi monólogo hacia ti con total libertad. Según así mi alma debería sentirse menos pesada, pero porque aun el vacío que dejaste perdiste. Salgo de mi trance al sentir una mano en mi hombro. Un recuerdo de que el tienpo se nos acaba y debo acabar con mi discurso lo antes posible

“Perdón…se que si pudieras me regañarias por decir estas cosas, pero a decir verdad extraño tanto eso…

.

.

.

A si! Traje algo para ti, es aquella cámara que Crowley te regalo, había sido destruida por la batalla por eso tardamos en repararla. Pudimos extraer algunas de las fotos de esta, tantos bellos recuerdos e inocentes memorias. Lamentablemente la gran mayoría de las fotos donde te encontrabas no hubo forma de restaurarlas. Todas tus fotos se perdieron, todas menos esa, esa última foto antes de la trajedia. Aquella foto donde estamos todos, aquella foto que refleja la calma antes de la tormenta. Donde nuestro ultimo momento feliz fue capturado.

Yuu, no sabes lo que daría por volver a esos tiempos. No sabes lo que haria por una última foto.”

[astro-stars]

can your horns be used as handles (TWST

The dimly lit, atmospheric common room of Diasomnia was alive with the faint crackle of a magical fireplace. Yuu sat at a table strewn with notes, quills, and books, working diligently on a project with Sebek. Well, Sebek was working diligently, his handwriting precise and his focus unwavering. Yuu, on the other hand, was half-distracted, their mind wandering as they stared at the intricate patterns of the dorm’s decor.

It wasn’t until Malleus entered the room, his regal presence as commanding as ever, that Yuu’s thoughts crystallized into a single, burning question that had been lingering in their mind for weeks. They glanced at Sebek, who was muttering about the importance of proper formatting, and then at Malleus, who had taken a seat on the nearby couch with Lilia and Silver.

Without thinking, Yuu blurted out, “Hey, Malleus, can you feel your horns?”

The room went silent. Sebek froze mid-sentence, his quill poised in the air as if someone had just declared open war on the Thorn Fairy herself. Lilia’s lips curled into an amused smile, while Silver blinked slowly, clearly trying to process the sudden shift in conversation. Malleus, for his part, tilted his head slightly, his expression one of mild curiosity.

“My horns?” Malleus repeated, his deep voice tinged with intrigue. “What an unusual question, child of man. May I ask what brought this to mind?”

Yuu flushed but pressed on, their curiosity outweighing their embarrassment. “I’ve just been wondering. Like, are they sensitive? Can you feel them the same way you feel your hands or something?”

Sebek’s face turned an alarming shade of red. “HUMAN! How dare you ask such a personal question of the Young Master?!” he bellowed, his voice reverberating through the room. “Have you no sense of propriety?!”

“It’s fine, Sebek,” Malleus said calmly, raising a hand to silence him. “I find the question rather intriguing.” He turned his attention back to Yuu, his emerald eyes gleaming. “To answer your question: Yes, I can feel my horns, though not in the same way I feel my hands. They are part of me, but their sensitivity is… limited, shall we say.”

“Huh,” Yuu said, nodding thoughtfully. “That’s kind of cool. So, theoretically, if someone were to, I don’t know, use them as handles, would that… bother you?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Sebek looked like he was about to faint from sheer outrage, while Lilia burst into laughter, his voice ringing out like bells. Silver sighed, rubbing his temples, as if wondering why he even bothered to stay awake for these conversations.

Malleus blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment before his lips quirked into a faint smile. “Handles, you say?”

“Yuu!” Sebek shouted, his voice cracking. “That is utterly disgraceful! Apologize to the Young Master at once!”

Lilia wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “Oh, Yuu, you truly are a delight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sebek this close to imploding.”

“I’m just curious!” Yuu defended, throwing up their hands. “It’s not like I’m actually going to try it or anything. I just… wondered.”

Malleus regarded Yuu for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “I see no harm in curiosity, as long as it remains respectful. However, I would advise against using my horns as… handles, as you put it. They are still a part of me, after all.”

“Fair enough,” Yuu said, grinning sheepishly. “Thanks for answering, though. I’ve been wondering about that for a while.”

Sebek groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Why does the Young Master tolerate this insolence?!”

Silver patted Sebek on the shoulder, his voice calm. “Relax. It’s not worth losing sleep over.”

Lilia leaned back in his seat, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Well, this has certainly been the most entertaining study session I’ve witnessed in years. Carry on, Yuu. You make life in Diasomnia much more lively.”

Yuu laughed nervously, returning to their project. They made a mental note to think twice before letting their curiosity get the better of them again—though they couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit proud for making Malleus smile.

TAGLIST: @soramcduckahyucky

BORDER: me!

[dystopyx-blog]

Yandere twst idea uhhhhhh how about yandere Mallues and yandere Leona having a petty argument about which dorm uniform y/n should wear?

it starts innocently enough. You're sitting with Ace, Deuce, and Grim, and you complain that you feel left out not having a dorm uniform.

Unfortunately, this wish did not go unheard.

Lilia pick up on it and mentions it to Malleus, who's quickly (but elegantly) making his way to your table.

"I could lend you one from my dorm." He offers.

Before he can say anything else, he's interrupted by the rumbling growl of a lion.

"As if," Leon's scoffs. He had been resting nearby, but the lazy lion always has an ear open for his herbivore. "Herbivore's gonna wear my dorm's uniform, obviously."

You speak up, "Uh, guys, while that's really sweet of you to offer, it was more of a hypothetical wish more than anything--"

"And in here to make that wish come true, Child of Man."

"Please, don't act as if that's your only goal. I know your type. You're trying to mark her."

"Is it not natural for me to want to do so?" Malleus tilts his head.

"You condescending prick--"

They continue bickering like that. They get so involved with the argument, they don't even notice you disappear.

You really think it's just petty squabbling. You already know Leona doesn't like Malleus and has a bit of a competitive streak (when he can muster a fuck), and Malleus would just be standing his ground.

What you don't realize is that they meant what they said when they mentioned wanting to mark you.

As a lion and dragon respectively, they want to make their claimed obvious. What better way then making you wear their clothes? Because, yes, whatever dorm uniform you get from them will either be modeled after their own, or just straight up their own clothes--

Anything to tell others to fuck off, this Child of Herbivore is claimed!!

Aaaaaaahhh, I feel like I should stick to headcanons, I feel like I fully messed up Malleus '^'

tbh @plumipal I'd love to see what you would do with this kind of prompt, if you havent already... 👉👈 I love your work

[yandere-sins]

About the thing where darling's descended from a close friend of Maleficent, imagine if darling's ancestor befriended Maleficent when she was still a princess and darling looked exactly like her ancestor in her younger days. Maleficent would definitely teach darling to be a strong, amazing woman like her ancestor (I'd say that she inherited her ancestor's magic, she hid it in NRC though). Malleus is done for, grandma's personally teaching HIS darling now.

I'd say these didn't age 100% well with the story, but we're reviving the Maleficent's friend!Darling!! Thank you for chatting with me about it ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

I think Malleus would honestly grow so pissed at his own grandma as he has to idly watch her take all of your precious time while being so focused on you she doesn't even help him with the nobles. She is not the one who should stand by your side as you are introduced at the ball. He should have been the one who showed you off and strengthened your bond with Briar Valley. While Maleficent is boasting about you, Malleus still has to fight off eager nobles who want him to take their children as his partner or at least concubine.

He really wanted to enjoy the night with you, though.

Even though he is well aware of what his grandma is doing—boasting your own confidence while being in the scrutinizing eye of every noble of Briar Valley—he is very miffed that you are so far away from him, almost unreachable, transcendent. As if he can't reach you while he puts on a fake smile and uses short, dismissive rejection on the next nobles of his beloved home. He's been asked to dance by so many people but not you, it makes him feel dizzy from anger.

Would you be concerned if he collapsed? Should he use some orchestrated weakness to gain your attention, your worry, and your affection? It might be worth it to lose some of his high standing in front of the nobles if it brought you back to his side, your beautiful eyes stricken with worry and grief about his condition. Your hands are on his body instead of the countless hand kisses that have been offered to you that night. Yes, yes, his grandmother was doing a good job weaving your fate back into Briar Valley after centuries of your bloodline being lost to another world. Still, Malleus cannot help but be selfish when he desires you so much. His eyes are constantly on you, barely forced away to greet another unimportant noble approaching him. There is so much longing and want in his eyes that he is very hard to approach despite having to maintain the facade.

Maleficient definitely notices his staring, the wistful puppy eyes of her grandson, but she does it for him, too. After all, to be able to marry off a non-fae (even without your knowledge) to someone as important as Malleus, she needs to gather all the approval she can get. It's not easy when you are respected while also being a grandma to an obviously lovesick fool of a grandson.

So she constantly, albeit very subtly, corrects your posture by poking you, make you use your fan as she has taught you, clears her throat when you laugh too loudly or speak too quietly. She is constantly nitpicking every one of your mannerisms, only satisfied when the nobles walk away nodding and approving of your presence at court. She does it all night long while feeling the daggers Malleus glares into her back. But she does it for you two.

And before the night ends, she asks the orchestra to play a few gentle songs before leading you away from the crowd. You are exhausted and sweaty, but Maleficient has to make a statement, and seeing her grandson light up as he realizes it's finally his turn with you makes all the training and hard work worth it.

Malleus is by your side in an instant, asking you for the dance. You are exhausted, but a last clearing of Maleficient's throat reminds you to do as you are told. She announces the last dance of the night, and although all eyes are on you and the heir of Briar Valley, quite a few people join in as if to show you their support.

You may be uncomfortable after going through such a long evening of being nitpicked at and forced to behave like someone you aren't. But Malleus makes it easy to follow his steps, always keeping a soft smile on his lips even when you step on his foot. You are so relieved when the song finally runs out, knowing you can finally go to bed, but as you two bow to each other, you are surprised to find Malleus clinging to you. He turns you to say goodnight to his grandma before pulling you out of the ballroom before anyone else, picking you up once you reach the hallway so he can walk even faster and fly away to get to his room more easily.

Because for the rest of the night, you are all his.

[twisted-whatifs]

A Twisted Phantom In the Opera

Christine!Yuu x Phantom!Malleus, Phantom of the Opera AU.

Notes: I have tried to keep this as a gn!Yuu, but might have messed up a few places. If you find any mistakes don’t fear pointing them out! It will only help <3 -Love Aren ♡

Summary: Yuu Daaé, a young actor who has been showing lots of talent ever since they got this mystery teacher, has gone missing. While the rest are busy panicking, as letters are being sent around threatening the new owners, letters which have been signed by a certain phantom... Yuu is busy finally seeing their teacher and angel of music, rather than communicating through mirrors and walls.  They end up getting to know him a lot better than they expected, finding out that while he may not be an angel of music, he is certainly not human either.

Will this phantom of the opera win over their heart like he always dreamt of? Or is their type a bit too human for him?

Intro

Yuu 1st person

It all started when I was but a child, I suppose. My father, who was so dear to me, was lying on his deathbed. When my mother left for the heavens, I had my father's hand to hold. Now that it was my father's turn, I still had his hand to hold. But when his funeral came, whose hand could I hold then?

“When I’m in heaven, Child. I will send the Angel of Music to you..” He said. His voice was weak, his hand shaking as he held me close. He was all I had left, and there was no one when he went. No one at first, at least. Then Madame Giry took me in, and taught me how to dance. I was now one of the many girls at the opera house, who got a place to live in exchange for our labour. And so I danced. I danced and I sang, just like my father and I used to, just like my father and mother used to as well. As I grew, my fathers promise was finally fulfilled. One afternoon when I was singing by my fathers picture, right after the biggest play I had ever been part of at the time, I heard a voice.

“A voice of such beauty should not sing songs of such pain.” I heard a voice say. At first, I was frightened, for I thought I was alone. But as I sought out this stranger, he began to sing. He asked me to sing with him, coaxing me away from fear. He gave me pointers and taught me how to avoid strain on my vocals. As time went on, he disappeared. Yet the next time I returned to light a candle for my father and I began to sing, I heard him again. He asked for me to sing with him, so I did. He taught me much this day, and so did he the next. Before I knew it, he had become my teacher. 

“Father once spoke of an angel. I used to dream he’d appear. Now as I sing I can sense him and I know he’s here.” One day I finally realised that he must be the Angel of Music my father had spoken of. He had to be, for he was so kind. He taught me the art of song like no other, with the passion of one who could only be an angel. His voice was of ethereal beauty. He must be an angel, for he could make even a whisper sound like the melodies of heaven.

But now, as I stand here, I realise he may not be the angel I used to see. Perhaps he is, but there is something to him that tells me other stories. He is my angel, yes. My Angel of Music. But he is also so much more.

Let the Song Take Flight

Yuu 1st person

As I stood on the stage, singing with my heart, I couldn’t help but hope he saw. I wished for nothing more than the Angel of Music to be proud. But what was more than that, I hoped I had not disappointed Madame Giry. She was the one who had claimed I could take the role, as Carlotta had been too busy throwing a tantrum. And now I stand in the Prima Donna dressing room after Meg had swept me away from meeting up with my teacher. She had been worried and said I looked so pale, that I needed to rest. I wanted to resist, but I had to admit that perhaps it was best if I didn’t strain myself. I was sure my teacher and angel would understand.

“Little Lotte, let their mind wander…” I am busy looking at the rose my teacher had gifted me when I hear the words of a childhood memory get spoken. I turn my head to see where it came from, not having expected Raoul to remember me. I haven't seen him since my father's death, so for him to remember such a small thing, is a surprise.  As Raoul continues to speak the words of nostalgia, I can not help but join in. For such words are not made to be forgotten. No, they are made to be remembered, repeated and sung. So I will sing.

“No… What I love best, Little Lotte said, is when I’m asleep in my bed and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head.” I sing with him, melodies of shared memories flowing between our bodies. A warm embrace engulfs me as we hug, arms wrapping around each other, even if for only but a moment. He is still my friend, despite the years that have gone by. Not much has changed between us, that is obvious. Perhaps too obvious, for it seems that Raoul still acts like a child, to some extent. For he does not accept my no, as he invites me out to supper. Nor does he let me deny his request, as he tells me I have two minutes to get dressed.  I can only hope the Angel of Music will forgive me, for I have no choice it seems. I begin to change, hurrying as much as I can. I know how impatient that man can get. And perhaps if I hurry, I’ll be back fast as well.

So I change as fast as I can, yet as I work to undo my corset, every candle in my room is unlit. A darkness that surrounds me like no other. Terrifying it is, that I have to admit. But what is truly terrifying, is the angry voice of my teacher and Angel of Music that I hear.

Insolent boy, he calls Raoul, and perhaps he is right, yet it frightens me nonetheless. 

The words I utter that are meant to calm him, seem to have little effect. Yet as I continue to speak, the icy air seems to thaw. His words turn from threats to pitiful self-hatred. 

Jealousy has never suited any man and it seems the same goes for angels. For his voice is beautiful, yet the jealousy and anger it hides dirties it. To hear his voice soften is like watching mud turn to crystal-clear water. It is beautiful, a miracle for humans to witness. As he begs me forth, telling me to look in the mirror, I feel a sort of relief. He must no longer be mad if he seeks to speak with me. 

Yet my relief is thrown to the side, as shock finds its way to my mind. For what I find in the mirror is not my reflection but a strange man, yet as I hear his voice I know it must be him. My Teacher and Angel. 

The Angel of Music that hides no longer.

I faintly hear the sounds of Raoul trying to enter my locked dressing room, yet I do not mind it. Even though I may not remember locking the door, any worries I hold disappear as I let him hold my hand. I hear him sing as he leads me through the tunnels of this opera house, tunnels I did not know existed before this day. I am like in a trance, my eyes unable to move away from his form. Anywhere that is not him does not deserve my gaze, that is all I can think. In fact, I barely even register the horse.  In any other situation, I would have wondered how he managed to get a horse into these tunnels, yet at this very moment, it did not seem strange. In fact, it is not until I start to sing, that I finally seem to realise what is happening. Yet instead of being frightened or confused, I am… content? I don’t mind this, I realise. In fact, it somehow feels right. To finally see my Angel of Music, after years of him talking to me, and teaching me. It was surprisingly nice.

So when we finally arrive at his home, or at least what I assume to be his home, I do not mind it. I do not mind the strangeness to it, or the fact we had to sail to get here. I do not question the fact that he lives in the sewers beneath the opera house either. Instead, I just accept it. This is him finally showing me who he is, so I shall make sure he knows that I will not run away.

“I have waited for so long, dreaming of the day you will finally see who I truly am.” He hums, embracing me from behind, as his fingers entwine with mine. I let myself lean back against his chest, his form towering over mine. I tilt my head to look up at him, my eyes catching his. He is ethereal, otherworldly. He holds a beauty that is unmatched. Everything about him tells me just who he is. Just the way he stands practically sings power.

Everything about him makes me want to know more. And so, I can not help but ask. For it is in my nature to be curious, even more so when it comes to him. Years I have spent getting to know him, yet it feels like I am just meeting him all over again.

“Long I have waited to see you, rather than just hear you. Yet now, I am left with more questions than answers.” My voice is barely above a whisper and despite this he still catches every word that I say. 

It seems that his attention is purely on me. For he hears every word I say, all the while his hands caress every inch of my skin. My one hand escapes his, coming up to caress his face. The mask that he bears peaks my curiosity, for why would an angel need to wear such a thing? Even more so, I wonder why he would wear a hood in such a private place. Yet I have so many other questions to ask as well, for he is a mystery to me. I have always thought that I knew him, yet at this moment I realise he is still so unknown to me. He is like the vast unexplored seas that make me want to jump on a ship and leave. To see just what I may find, what treasures I may stumble across, what stories will unwind.

His eyes capture mine again, as I get lost in the green of his irises. For a second I feel that I am wandering some forest of the fae realm, before I return to the real world again. Yet again I am convinced he is an angel, for only an angel would have eyes like his.

“Let me show you something, my muse. Perhaps your questions will be answered.” My thoughts are interrupted and perhaps it is on purpose, for it seems that he knows my mind was wandering. His hands trace across my collarbone before he lowers them to the small of my back, leading me forward to show me this mystery thing.

It is like my feet barely touch the ground, as I follow him. His one hand grasping mine as he leads me forward, his other hand gently resting on my back.

As he leads me toward a curtain, I patiently wait for him to reveal what is behind. Despite the excitement that vibrates throughout my bones, once I see what is behind the curtain, I feel faint.

Hidden behind this curtain, is a mannequin that looks exactly like me. And what’s more, this mannequin is wearing some sort of wedding attire. The thought is sweet, that I have to admit, but it is too much. 

The world around me goes dark, and my legs can no longer keep me up.

Signed the Opera Ghost

Malleus 1st person

My hands barely grasp my muse in time, before they hit the ground. I had not expected them to faint at what I had shown them, otherwise I wouldn’t have made it. Oh, how I hope they are okay. I lift them up in my arms, carrying them up into my room. As I look at them, I can not help but admire the piece of artwork that is their face. How a human can be so otherworldly, I can not say.

I gently place them in my bed, before pulling down the canopy around them. It is best if I let them sleep in peace. I can just practice some music while I wait for them to return to consciousness.  I decide to let my monkey musical box play for them while I wait, in hopes that the tune it plays will keep them calm.

So I leave them to lay in my bed, watching their sleeping form for but a moment, before I leave again. The organ that calls to be played, lures me out of the room. 

But before I let myself get carried away with such things, even if it may be what I love, I know it is best I send out a few letters explaining that Daaé is alright. I can not have people worrying, after all. No, that would risk having my dear muse get stressed, and I can not let that happen. So I will construct some letters, explaining what has gone down. I will write letters telling the new owners how things are supposed to be run around here and perhaps, if they are not fools, they will listen.

After an hour of writing, I finally let myself sit down by the organ to play, letting my heart come out and on display. As my fingers find their way to the giant instrument, I let myself compose a new opus. It is still but a work in progress, yet I know that with some fine-tuning, it will be beautiful.

And so I play, for minutes or hours I do not know. My mind is lost in the music, too distracted to notice the form that creeps up behind me. Only do I notice once I feel a soft hand on my shoulder. I turn my head to them, the beautiful Yuu that has captured my heart. Smooth skin that brushes against mine, caresses and gentle touches. Their hands that grace me like I am some delicate flower, yet also someone to be held.

Fingers that mould against my cheek, a palm that warms my cold body. Their hands play the role of my mask, holding me so protectively. In their hands I feel safe, something in which I am not used to. Perhaps I never will be. For as I let myself lean into the touch and enjoy the warmth, I feel something is wrong. I move faster than I have ever let a human see before, my hands reaching for my hood. Atop my head, which is usually hidden by a hood made of silk. But now as I reach to check if it is still in place, I find it to be missing. Instead, my hands find the smooth surface of my horns, cold to the touch, usually hidden.

An instant dread fills my heart, for a moment all I can see is red. For I had trusted them, I had trusted the child of man and it was a mistake. A mistake that I will have to pay for, it seems. All I can do now is wait for them to scream and run away, or beg for mercy. I was foolish for thinking them different, of course, they are not. All humans are the same, curious little creatures. They seek to know what is not their right to know, with no mind of consequences.

“Is this what you wanted to see?” The rage in my mind unlike any other, for I had trusted them. Had this been anyone else, I would have been saddened yes, but it would not have hurt. With them this feels like a betrayal, for they are dear to me. So hopefully they will forgive me for cursing, for yelling and frightening them. For even if they angered me, no person should be belittled like that.  Perhaps they are wrong in what they have done, but so am I. That is something I realise as I see the look on their face. The fear written across their face, written in every one of their tears. 

“Can you even dare to look, or bear to think of me? This loathsome gargoyle…” Explosive anger that is turning into sombre whispers and saddening thoughts. For I hurt them, I hurt the child of man, my muse. I hurt my Yuu, my Yuu Daaé. 

I am so lost in my self-wallowing thoughts that I barely notice the hesitant hands that help me put up my hood, as I struggle to do so myself. Yet again I am stricken with the feeling of guilt, as I see the way they try to help. They truly meant no harm, that much I can see. That much I should have seen from the start, for I know they are kind. Oh, so very kind.

“Who seems to be a beast but secretly dreams of beauty…” My voice wanders off, as I try to find a way to apologise, to find the right way to express everything in my mind.  Yet, instead of finding an apology, other words seem to leave my mouth. My lips spelling out the letters and my tongue pushing them past my teeth. I tell them we should get them back, as I know they can’t possibly wish to be around me any longer. Who would want to be around such a monster? Who would want to stay near the infernal beast that I am?

I help them to their feet as I prepare for us to leave. They should go back home, and far away from me. I want them to be safe, truly I do. More so than that, I know staying around me is not anywhere near safe. They must know that too. If they did not know that before, they certainly do now.

“Those fools who run my theatre will be missing you.” I try to encourage them, as they make no move to leave. It would be too selfish of me to make them stay, I know that. So why are they making no move to leave? 

The way they watch me, at first I thought it to be a look of fear. But now, now I see it is something else. Their gaze that screams pity. Sorrow is etched into their very essence as they stare.

Their hand that grasps mine is soft, a shock that runs through my body stopping me from pulling away. A shiver that runs down my spine, as they say words I have never heard before. 

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

One Love One Lifetime

Yuu 1st person

The words I speak are the truth, despite the suddenness of them. And if my words do not convince him, then I hope my actions do. For I hold him close, his hands in mine. I let him see me for who I am, and not who he thought I was before. Yes, I did something bad. I should not have pulled down his hood when he was so obviously hiding something, yet I could not help it.

But his reaction told me everything I needed to know, I had gone and ignored a boundary that should have been respected. For that, I will feel internally bad. He holds my heart so dear to him and yet when he gave his heart to me, I just dropped it like nothing. But even though I know I was in the wrong, it does not seem that he thinks so. In fact, the guilt I see in his eyes is practically eating me alive. So I speak the words of forgiveness, for I truly do forgive him. I forgive him for getting mad, not because I believe he’s at fault though. Because I believe it is what he needs to hear.

“But please, forgive me. If anyone is at fault, it is I.” My whispered apology is met with soft silence, looking up and into his eyes, regret filling every fibre of my body. I let one hand trail up to hesitantly cup his cheek, feeling his cold skin meld against mine. It seems that he still holds my heart, keeping it safe from danger. Even the danger that is me.

“You trusted me and I… I broke that trust. For your forgiveness I am unworthy, yet I will still pray you try to forgive me.” I have never been one to beg, yet for a moment I consider it. But despite my thoughts, it seems he holds mercy dear. For his face seems to soften, almost lighting up. A small tug at the corner of his mouth, before it returns to its usual solemn state. Despite this, I know he is not mad. Perhaps he is not even sad. I let my spirits get lifted at this thought, as I properly look at him again, taking in the beauty he holds.

Why would such a man ever trust me? Let me near him, sleep in his bed? How could I ever be enough to someone as perfect as him?

“Forgiveness is not something you should ask for, child of man. It is something that has already been given a long time ago.” The voice that is his echoes throughout the room, yet what should sound ominous only sounds like peace to me. For I was finally given peace, knowing he did not hate me. I can't help myself from throwing my arms around him, embracing his taller form. I could feel him almost freeze in my hold. But as I begin to pull away, realising my inappropriate act, he pulls me against him. His arms surround my body tightly like he fears that should he let go, I will disappear.

“I have one final question for you.” The drip of water almost drowning out his voice, making it hard for me to hear, with how low his voice is. Yet I manage to hear his every word. Just one question, I wonder. For I would answer a million, should he ever have that many to ask. Yet I do not deny his request, instead waiting for him to tell me what he wishes to say. I do not know what he wishes from me, but I would say yes to anything. For when he is there, nothing is impossible.

“Will you reach the final threshold and stay with me? That’s all I ask of you, my muse.” His voice but a whisper, yet it still reaches my ears. I can tell he doubts if it is a good idea to ask, yet he does it anyway. For a second I find it brave. My eyes go wide as I pull back to see his face, once I finally register what he said. I needed to see if he meant this, if he truly meant every word he said, or if he was playing some cruel joke. Yet what I see is not the face of amusement or mischief, instead it is one of unsure seriousness. It’s a nervous face, yet not a single twist of his expression shows any cruelty.

A soft smile spreads across my lips as I look up at him, realising he means it. He must truly wish for it. And I can not help but consider every option I have. He means so much to me. He has been there for me for so long, teaching me the art of music like no other. He gave back life to me, he gave back a joy I thought I had lost that day I watched my father get lowered into the ground. So perhaps I am a bit selfish to want to stay, perhaps I am a bit selfish to wish to leave everyone behind for him, but it didn’t sound bad. In fact, it sounded like what I needed more than anything else.

“My Angel, I love you. Say the word and I will follow you.” Whispers of love flow through the night, like music. Small little melodies that take flight. So when he utters the words, words of love and admiration, I let myself be swept away by his charm. My hand gently tilts his head down to meet me, as I stand on my toes to meet his lips.

Such a small touch yet such a meaningful act. Two bodies touching so gently, so lost in the love for the other. A kiss so full of devotion, hands coming to grasp at the other, fearing they’ll otherwise get lost. What could be described as a dance for others, is like a song for us. The music is silent yet there, every note and melody so evident in every movement and touch. Soft lips pressed against soft lips, breath coming short. 

But now, as I stand here, I realise he may not be the angel I used to see. Perhaps he is, but there is something to him that tells me other stories.

He is my angel, yes. My Angel of Music. But he is also so much more. For as our lips part and his hood falls down, he does not try to hide his horns. And as my eyes catch his and I see how pupils turn into slits, I know that he is no angel. But that changes nothing, for he is still my Angel of Music.

[k0ppyi]

TWISTED WONDERLAND X SAWAKO KURONUMA! READER

characters: housewardens (minus Idia)

NOTE: the only reason I didn’t do Idia is bc I literally have no clue how to write him 🧍‍♀️. Also the writings a tad bit rushed

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Riddle has heard about you a few times amongst many students. He heard the most perplexing things like how you could sense spirits, how you were nicknamed “Sadako” from The Ring due to your creepiness, and that you were pure bad luck. He personally thought such rumors were ridiculous.

When he met you, he was quite startled when you popped out of nowhere to ask him directions to one of the supply rooms. He had willingly lead you there.

“Housewarden Riddle…you’re such a good person…!” You said shyly as he opened the supply closets room.

“What…?” He asked. He was quite shocked.

“W-well, you were kind enough to give me directions…and not just that, you were kind enough to walk me here too….! So I really do thank you!” You said. Riddles heartbeat fastened as he watched you smile. Many people have said that you were scary, that you were bad luck, that your smile could curse someone. But all he saw was an entirely sweet person in front of him.

“I-it’s no worry, really…” he muttered, his face incredibly red. When he went back to his dorm, he found out your actual name was not Sadako.

‘I’ll have to give them a proper greeting with their name tomorrow…’

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

He was uninterested in you. Sure, he heard about your nickname and your reputation, but really, those were all just rumors everyone talked about. Nothing interesting about you. Until you had wondered into the botanical gardens during passing period.

He saw you trying to tend to an injured bird.

“It’s okay, little birdie…I won’t hurt you…” you said quietly. The bird kept chirping and pecking at your hand.

“Hey you, what are you doing? That thing so clearly doesn’t like you.” Leona says. You turned to him in surprise.

“Well…I can’t just leave the poor bird here without any help..” you said as you stood up, the bird cupped in your hand. You looked as if you were hesitating to say something. “Could you help me..? I’m sure it’ll like you better than me..” you said. You moved up to the branch and offered the small bird to Leona. He looked at you, your pleading eyes were almost too much for him. He sighed and took the bird from you, carefully wrapping the bandage around its wing.

“Thank you, thank you a lot! You’re a very nice person!” You said with a smile. He froze as he looked at you, his tail wagged back on forth.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Upon hearing about you, Azul’s first thought was ‘a new client perhaps?’ Hearing about the rumors surrounding you would lead to him trying to get you to come to his office so he could persuade you into a contract with him. You sat in front of him.

“You needed me, Azul?” You asked. Your bangs dripped over your eyes and created a shadow over your face. Azul was quite scared, but it was too late to back down now.

“I’ve heard from quite a few people about your troubles now.” He smiled. Your face became a tinted pink out of embarrassment.

“Oh…oh, yes, I’m aware of it…” you muttered, feeling shy all of a sudden. He smiled.

“Well, what would you say to an offer?”

“An offer..?” Your eyes sparkled.

“Yes, an offer so that you can stop seeing these dark spirits!” He said, rather proudly. Your eyes widened.

“Oh! Azul, I really don’t see spirits!” You said hastily. You thought that he was talking about the fact you can’t communicate very well.

“What.” Azul said, dumbfounded. Embarrassment crept up in himself.

“Yes…I’m sorry for disappointing you…you probably had such high hopes…” you said, fiddling with your fingers.

“No! It’s just fine…! Not a worry!” He said, standing up. His face was red in embarrassment. “You may leave now…” he said, sitting down and covering his face.

“Tho…thank you for trying to help me…if I were to be seeing spirits, I would definitely come to you for help!” You said. You bowed and left. He looked up at the door as it closed, his face was red.

KALIM AL-ASIM

Kalim was quite interested in you. When he first heard the rumors about you, tho never seeing you, you were all he thought and talked about. He had called you Sadako for quite some time, but he got so curious to the point he learned your real name.

“Good morning! Your [Name] right?” Kalim asks, popping up in front of your desk. Your eyes lit up.

“Y-yes! Good morning!” You said. Your face was clearly ecstatic. That day Kalim had decided he would sit next to you during class. Kalim grew fond of you quite quickly, and he noticed how your smile and your happy face was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. How come no one had ever realized it?

“[Name]…your smiles really pretty…” he said in a daze.

“Huh? Really…?” You said. You blushed a bit as he nodded. “Then…thank you, you’re a really nice and cheerful person, Kalim, I hope to be like you one day..” you muttered. Kalim only smiled and turned away with a scramble of thoughts.

VIL SCHOENHEIT

Vil had seen you looking at one of the photos of him placed around the town. How did he know it was you? Well, you were infamous for scaring people off, and everyone who you looked at ran away. He would often witness your interactions with classmates, but he never did anything.

“Excuse me….But if you need, I can play the role as the ghost…” You said as you stood at the door way of the club room. The Film Research Club was making a horror film, unfortunately, they were running low on cast members. Vil turned to you, relieved from his previous stress.

“You? I suppose it could be fitting. Alright then, I’ll put your name down. That is?”

“[Name]” he nodded and put the clip board down. The other members were whispering about you, Vil only glared at them and they went silent.

“Come, I’ll do your special effects make up.” Vil said, gesturing for you to follow over. As he did your make up, he noticed that you had many beauties to your face. It was quite a pity for him that he’d had to make you look horrifying.

After the film recording was over, you went up to Vil. “Vil, I just wanted to thank you for letting me take part in your film. I think that I was able to become more closer with my classmates thanks to it…” you said with a shy smile. Vil’s eyes softened at your smile. It was quite cute.

“No need to thank me, you were the one who volunteered after all.” He said.

“Tho, I do think I need a model for my make up brand, I think you would fit well on a poster. Do come meet me at my dorm if you’re interested” He whispered in your ears. You stepped back and nodded. You were very flustered. You bowed and left the room.

MALLEUS DRACONIA

He met you when you were walking around in the rain. He had no clue who you were, and neither did you. He had no umbrella, but you did. So what did you do? Help him! After all, your motto is “one good deed a day”

“Excuse me..! I couldn’t help but notice that you had no umbrella…I can walk you back to your dorm if you’d like.” You said, standing behind him. He turned around. He was quite shocked that someone had come and talked to him.

“Yes…that would be nice…” he said. You smiled and hovered the umbrella over both you and him. He was much taller than you. Your arm was slowly straining. “Allow me to hold it.” He said, taking the umbrella from your hand.

“Thank you…” you said. “Oh…Im [Name], what’s yours?” You asked. He tilted his head. Did you not know him? He smiled.

“You can call me whatever you may like.” He said. Perhaps you just didn’t know what Malleus Draconia looked like. He wouldn’t want to lose someone who wasn’t afraid of him. “I couldn’t possibly call you whatever…! It would really be nice if we could be friends…I don’t have much myself” you said.

“Oh? Why’s that?” He asked.

“I think everyone’s scared of me…I would be too, after all, I do look like Sadako from The Ring, right?” You asked. He gazed at you. He was unaware of who “Sadako” was or what “The Ring” was.

“I can…relate to that.” He said.

“Yes! See? We already have one thing in common. So please tell me your name.” He smiled softly.

“Malleus”

[trappolia]

── AND THE POISON STAINS MY MOUTH

malleus draconia. mortality, humanity and grief.

Malleus will never know grief before you.

He thinks of grief as a concept made by humans, their time on this realm so fickle and small; a painting of his mother and father in the colours of Lilia's mourning garment, an absence of which he as a child struggled to understand. He grasps at the idea of it, cradles it in his tiny palms like a flickering firefly. The curious fae-child dreams of loss, but no sort of magic can conjure the ache of something he never had.

He cradles the firefly anyway, watches its light flicker and die out. When you call his name and he looks up to see you — youthful, vibrant, mortal — Malleus wonders if the same fate will befall upon you.

Malleus tries to borrow the grief from the part of him that will exist in decades time. Grasps at that dying light in a future he cannot imagine, a future without you. There is something morbid here, he understands— a fixation on the concept of grief, mourning, mortality. He will never understand it, he thinks. He tries anyway. But grief is a painting he cannot capture when you are still living and breathing beside him, your light candescent in the perpetual dullness that Malleus himself never realised his life was stuck in.

He cannot imagine it, this— this life without you. That one day he will look upon the stars and you are not somewhere in the same realm, looking up at the very same constellations. It is not a matter of refusing to acknowledge it, no— Malleus simply cannot fathom the very real possibility that one day he will be here and you will be gone.

Malleus wonders what Lilia sees when he looks at him with you, what makes his eyes soften and the mourning weigh less on his shoulder. As a growing child, Malleus had thought that Lilia's grief grew smaller as the centuries passed— he understands now that the scope of Lilia's life has only grown around it, no longer twin wounds in the gaping maw of his chest, but hands cradling the grief as Meleanor might have done to Malleus, had she lived long enough to see him hatch.

"They will die one day," Lilia told him once, hovering by Malleus's perch on the balcony as they watch you walk down the stone steps of Diasmonia. "You understand this, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Malleus had said, even when he did not. A life without you did not seem to be much of a life at all, only some far-away dream, one that Malleus finds himself not indifferent to, but certainly unaffected by— for now, at least.

"You will grieve them for the rest of your days."

"I know."

"Do you understand grief, my boy?"

Malleus is quiet. He looks to Lilia, this man that has raised him since he was but a hatchling, who had once loved his parents and grieved for the absence of them in his life that Malleus had never

"No," Malleus confesses.

"You will," Lilia says softly, his voice not unkind, but full of pity. He knows what it is to grieve, but he had lived centuries with Meleanor and Raverne— you will pass long before Malleus is a Fae fully-grown; your life is but a drop in the ocean of his. "By the Seven, my boy, you will."

[linkemon]

 Once upon a dream (Silver x Reader)

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ꜱɪʟᴠᴇʀ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴡᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ, ᴅʀɪꜰᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀɪɴᴛ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴏɴᴛᴏ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪꜱ ᴅɪꜰꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴛ. ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴀɴ ɪᴅʏʟʟɪᴄ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴏꜰ ʟɪꜰᴇ ɪɴ ʙʀɪᴀʀ ᴠᴀʟʟᴇʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ] ʙʏ ʜɪꜱ ꜱɪᴅᴇ, ꜱɪʟᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇɢɪɴꜱ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱᴄᴀᴘᴇ — ᴀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴡᴏᴠᴇɴ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʟᴏɴɢɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ꜰʀᴀɢᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ. ᴀꜱ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ᴠɪꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ʙʟᴜʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇꜱ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ꜰᴀɴᴛᴀꜱʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴛʏ, ʜᴇ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ᴄᴏɴꜰʀᴏɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ɪʟʟᴜꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪꜰꜰɪᴄᴜʟᴛ ᴘᴀᴛʜ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʜᴀᴘᴘɪɴᴇꜱꜱ. ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴇ ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴡʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟ?

ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ:

𝟣. ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ʙᴏᴏᴋ 𝟩 (ᴍᴀɪɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢ).

Silver had been exploring dreams for so long that he could tell when he was in one in a matter of seconds. That familiar rush of wind, stirring the treetops. The thrill of excitement crawling across his skin like a forest beetle. The feeling of being a stranger, like a chrysalis that hadn't yet become a butterfly. He was in the right place but not quite. His body didn't seem to fit.

Funny thing was, he knew he'd probably barely remember anything when he woke up. Silver was a knight. He had a shield and a sword. First the wooden ones his dad had given him, then the real ones, forged from steel in Briar Valley. But he couldn't fight it. No amount of swinging his sword would make him chase away the dream. He had no control over his drifting into nothingness. He always woke up with the feeling that he was dreaming. He rarely could recall who or what was haunting his mind.

And yet, when he woke up in someone else's dreams, he knew what they were. Usually, he quickly learned whose dreams they were, although he could never choose himself. This time was no different. With one tiny difference. There was no dreaming person around him. He always felt it under his skin, like lazy streams of magic flowing through his fingers. The feeling had disappeared somewhere irretrievably and he felt uneasy.

— Slluuuurp — the little deer was running its tongue over his face.

Several birds tugged hard on his silver locks, forcing him to stand up. The blue-pink sky, speckled with cream-white clouds, changed into a forest landscape. The boy stood in a circle of speckled, red mushrooms, from which he was pushed by a family of hares.

He took a deep breath. The air smelled different than usual. It was clean. Cleaner than... What exactly? What did he want to compare it to? He tried to remember but the words refused to form in his head.

— Hoo-hoo! — the owl swooped over his head, missing the thick thorny bushes.

He carefully stepped under them and parted the branches of the trees. He should have guessed it when he saw the ubiquitous malachite green. Leaves like that only existed in Briar Valley. Only here did everything seem crystal clear and infused with magic.

A cottage appeared before his eyes. The same one he knew very well. Tucked between a rocky shelf and a huge oak tree. Whitewashed walls and a roof covered with golden straw. A water wheel, turning with a steady clatter, pouring cool water through itself. A tiny garden under green shutters. A winding, short path, on which he set foot out of habit. It was old and new at the same time. He couldn't shake the feeling that it should look a little older. After all, no one had visited it since... Since when? Why should it be neglected? After all, he lived in it. He shook his head. When he looked up, a familiar figure appeared on the threshold.

— Silver! — [Reader] waved her hand vigorously.

She seemed very happy to see him. He hesitantly returned the gesture.

He studied her figure. At the same time, so close to him and yet so... unfamiliar? She was rounder. Her face seemed a little older than he remembered. He blinked and the impression disappeared as quickly as he thought about it. She was wearing a white apron, speckled with what could have been sauce.

— You look somehow... different — the boy finished awkwardly.

— Not everyone can look perfect when they cook. Tomorrow's your turn. Let's see if you finish clean — the girl said. — Just don't cheat this time so we don't have to pick acorns out of the soup.

He grimaced at the memory. The squirrels weren't to blame. They were trying to help him. As a result, they ended up with plates full of floating treasures. They were hungry all evening but at least they could laugh about it.

— That's not what I meant. — Silver felt like the harder he tried, the harder it was to focus. — What I mean is... Where are we exactly? — It took a lot for him to get the question out.

— At home — the girl replied.

There was a look of incomprehension on her face.

— We're at my home in Briar Valley but why?

— We are in — the girl emphasized the word — our home. Silver, I know that there are various strange customs at court but leave such games to Sebek. Now help me prune the roses, please. — She handed him the pruning shears. — If Lilia finds out that we have neglected them, he will wring our heads the next time he visits.

Indeed. The boy didn't have much time. Ever since he was officially accepted as a knight of Malleus, he had been constantly busy. The ruler had done him a great favour by letting him return home after his duty hours. Usually, the honor guard was close by to respond to emergency calls if necessary. Fortunately, the king didn't mind, claiming that in times of peace it was unnecessary and Sebek made up for the zeal of two knights, so in the end, no one lost anything. His father would probably be happy to see him taking advantage of his free time and working around their beloved cottage.

Dad. His soothing smile, his funny jokes and his inedible food. He never tended roses. He didn’t have the time, the desire or the skill. He used a battle axe to cut down trees for firewood. He couldn’t care for flowers. Silver looked at the emerald roses twining in the yard. The thorns seemed to glow with a soft, greenish light. He wouldn’t grow something like that. He wouldn’t do it because…

— Father left. — He had the impression that this sentence changed something around him. As if for a moment the world stopped and the forest held its breath.

— Where to? — [Reader] asked, steadily trimming the stems.

Silver felt as if everything was getting mixed up. After all, he had seen him recently. He had only left on a diplomatic mission because the castle was boring in his opinion. So boring that he wanted to go...

— He went East.

— Oh yeah? He didn't mention it last time he was at dinner. What's got into his head at that age? Don't worry. You know Lilia. He'll be fine. He'll be back before you know it.

He won't. He for sure won't be back. It was going to be a very long trip. So long that it was worth throwing a farewell party for. In Diasomnia's dormitory. Smelling of sadness and regret. Casting a shadow in the pale green light cast by the candles burning above the huge fireplace.

— Why are we here? — Silver felt the question catch in his throat. For a split second, it seemed as if the rosebuds were staring accusingly at him.

— Silver, are you feeling okay? Do you have a fever? — [Reader] reached out and placed her hand on his forehead protectively but he firmly slapped it away.

— Answer me.

Resentment flashed across her face. He felt the urge to apologize for his behaviour and take back what he had said. They were the same eyes he loved so much, after all. He didn't want them to be sad because of him. Even if they radiated a strangely unusual glow. He had never seen greenish sparks dancing in them before.

— Fine. I don't know why you're asking such strange questions but okay. I'll answer you and then I'll get a medic from the city because I'm starting to think you hit your head — she sighed. — We're in Briar Valley, not far from the castle because your father gave us this cottage after the wedding. We figured it would be more convenient for you to work but at the same time we'd have some privacy, away from the court and...

— Marriage? — Silver swallowed hard. — We are married?

— Of course we are, silly. — She laughed nervously. — Oh? That was a real question? You're being serious — she said with horror. — Okay, let's do it like that. You sit at home and I'll get the doctor. Just don't get nervous, everything will be fine. — He wasn't sure who those words were aimed at more. Her or himself.

Of course they were married. After the NRC, they moved to Briar Valley. At first, they lived there separately as a couple. Then he proposed to her. The wedding was modest, surrounded only by their closest family. His forest friends assisted him. Dad agreed to lead [Reader]. She wore this funny, enchanted dress that they bought a few days before the ceremony. It was sometimes pink and sometimes blue. Everyone joked about what colour it actually was. He put a ring on her finger then. The same one he had had since he was a child. The last memento of his parents. It shone like an aurora's light . A light not seen anywhere else.

He glanced at the girl standing before him. Sure enough. She had it on her finger. It twinkled brightly as she bustled about, quickly packing her things into her bag for the trip. But if she had it, what was that jangling weight around Silver's neck? He tugged reflexively at the thin chain. The ring was still stuck at the end.

— We’re not even dating…— he said quietly.

— Excuse me? — [Reader] stopped packing for a moment.

— We're not dating — Silver repeated, louder. — I haven't even told you I'm in love with you yet. I was going to but then...

— You really need a doctor. I'll be back soon.

— This is a dream, isn't it? This is Meet me in Dream. All my loved ones are here but I can see everything I want most, so this is my dream. — Silver felt a lump growing in his throat. — I never wanted Dad to leave. Neither did Malleus. So now we're all asleep and we can't wake up. We're all lying on the floor in Diasomnia and this is all a beautiful lie.

— What are you talking about? — [Reader] laughed nervously.

— I'm so sorry but you're not real and I have to wake up...

The boy had the impression that the emerald roses had begun to grow. As if their stems had suddenly become thicker, trying to drown out the flower buds. The ominous green loomed more and more intensely on the thorns. It no longer resembled a calm malachite, now it took on the colour of a grotesque neon.

[Reader] was still talking about the doctor and had rushed out the door of the cottage. He instinctively went after her. He reached out for her but didn't really register whether he had managed to grab the familiar hand. It all cameas if through a fog. Very thick. Milky. Like the oatmeal that had been in front of him every morning for so many years.

Silver could have sworn that laughter appeared in his head on its own. It pierced his mind as if only he could hear it. He knew that voice. Deep and low. It was mocking him. Silver was a knight but he couldn't protect anyone. Not his lord, nor his family, nor his friends. Now Malleus was laughing at him. The heir to the throne had been giving him orders for a long time. He always agreed with them. Now Malleus was giving only one, which he refused to obey:

— Sleep.

One such simple word. Filled with magic and power. And yet it contained everything. Above all, a promise. What had sounded like a curse a moment ago was starting to look like a blessing. Because now Silver could have everything he wanted. Live the life he had dreamed of. If it had appeared in his head, then it had to be. After all, Malleus wanted exactly the same thing as Silver — for Lilia not to go anywhere. Here, that problem disappeared. His father was still within reach. He could hug him whenever he felt like it. In this dream, he no longer had to study at the NRC. He had already achieved his goal. He was a good and respected knight with a position at court. He could continue to use that to repair the relationships between humans and fae. There was also [Reader]. He no longer had to gather his courage. She reciprocated everything he felt. In her familiar eyes, he saw layers of love. They could live a peaceful life in the company of their forest friends, in the cottage he loved so much. Including such mundane duties as tending to the roses. Those furiously green ones that looked like were on fire. Just like...

Silver stood up abruptly. He gasped for air. He felt as if he himself had been burning just a moment ago. In a terrifying neon fire. He pressed his hand to his temple, which was pulsating with a dull pain. His vision was blurry. He blinked a few times, trying to fix the image. It was getting darker and darker all around. Second by second, the world around him seemed to fall to pieces. Fragments of the forest were rotting. Animals were fading away in clouds of smoke. The cottage was collapsing stone by stone at an alarming rate. The boy tried to stand up. He sank ankle-deep in black goo. Stickiness was leaking from the ever-growing rose bushes. However, he could no longer see the buds. Now they were simply thick branches with thorns as sharp as spikes. He looked at his wounded hands, covered in blood. He didn't even see when he had cut himself with them.

— Wake up! — His voice was hoarse. As if he had been shouting for a long time. — Come on, wake up! You have to wake up! — Tears flowed unconsciously down his cheeks, blurring the world.

How was he supposed to wake himself up? Even in daily life, he had trouble doing so. No matter how many alarms he set or clocks he bought, he still fell asleep. No potions or knowledge from dusty books helped. Magic was hopeless. Neither Briar Valley nor Night Raven College had solutions to his problem.

The boy took a step forward. He stumbled and lost his balance. He looked down. It was [Reader]. Almost completely covered in black goo. For a moment he wanted to leave her. After all, he should worry about himself. And not about a dream that would probably disappear in a moment anyway. But the eyes stared at him with a silent plea. And he knew them so well. So he complied with their request and pushed his wounded hands into the mud.

— Silver — [Reader] croaked.

Tears were also streaming down her cheeks. She seemed terrified by something behind him.

The boy turned around. The black, misty silhouettes, rising from the goo, began to make disturbing sounds. They snorted, gnashed their teeth and scratched with their claws. They were whole at the same time but as if blurred. They filled with terror and smelled of fear. Everything that nightmares should be. Silver's ring flickered with the familiar glow of the aurora. The monsters took a few steps back. He looked down. [Reader] was still whole in his arms. She hid her head in his chest, desperately and tightly. She closed her eyes.

Why hadn't she fallen apart? Not before, along with the rest of the dream and not now? The moment he found the answer was the moment he felt the fog in his mind lift forever.

— [Reader], you need to wake up — he said firmly.

— But I'm so sleepy and it feels sooo good — the girl mumbled.

— It's not good at all. You keep telling yourself it's good because you really want it to be. — He put her on the ground and shook her gently. The black goo immediately approached their feet greedily. — I thought it was my dream but it wasn't. Meet Me in Dream never let me enter my own dream. We're in your dream. This is your dream reality.

— I just really want you to be happy, Silver — she replied sleepily, rubbing her eyes.

The black goo began to climb over the two of them at an alarming rate. [Reader] didn't seem to notice, though.

— I know — the boy swallowed the lump in his throat — and that's why I'm really grateful to you. I really thought that was what I wanted but it's not true. What is happiness if we don't choose it ourselves? Is it real then?

The girl lazily opened one eye. The black goo had already covered her entire neck. Silver couldn't move anymore. He couldn't feel his legs or arms. So all he could do was watch.

— Knights always have to fight for everything — [Reader] sighed quietly. — I guess that's just part of your charm...

— Let me become a true knight. Not just in your dreams. When I return, I will fight for all of us.

He didn't even have a sword with him but he knew he would do everything in his power to keep his word. All was not lost yet. If he tried hard enough, he might wake the others and together they could break the curse.

— You promise you’ll find me outside the dream? — [Reader] asked, her eyes wide. There was no longer any green glow in them. Now they only reflected the familiar blue-pink auroral light.

— I promise.

Silver opened his eyes. He gripped the shimmering ring tightly. The boy knew the feeling. He still wasn't awake. But he was going to get there as soon as he could...

[maezertries]

Ok so I’ve got this theory about Silver- we all know how he falls asleep everywhere and it can be all cute and quirky.

What if it isn’t all sweet and gentle and domestic? What if Silver is constantly drifting off because his curse lingers?

Because as he has aged he has instinctively gone searching after love of another kind? Looking for love from friends, confidants? Looking for the love of a partner, an equal, a lover? Looking for validation from a traumatized father who tenderly stumbled his was through parenthood? Or maybe he- like so many of us- has this hole inside him that craves to be seen, known?

Or- and this may be worse- what if it’s because as he grows, he’s understood the roles and lives of people around him and the fear/feelings of being unlovable have begun to sink in? He’s a mortal in the world of Fae. As much a Lilia loves him, there are prejudices and hatred that he cannot protect Silver from. What if the differences in social dynamics leave him feeling out of place, despite being raised in them?

What if he doubts the love of his family? What if he believes Lilia raised him for the sole purpose of being a shield, a guardian, a defender of Malleus? What if the taunts and words of Sebek have sunk in deeper than anyone expected?

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Dragon On The Tower Roof.

Pairing: Yandere!Malleus x Reader (TWST).

Word Count: 4.2k.

TW: Fantasy AU, Mentions of Blood/Bruising, Mentions of Injury to Reader, Implied (Consensual) Sex, Possessive Behavior, and Manipulation.

Malleus met you at the base of his tower.

With a single movement of his wings, he descended from his perch and landed in front of you – placing himself between you and the stone behemoth. Had you been a more imposing figure, a knight or a prince or the general of some distant army, he would’ve cut you down the moment you entered his valley, but your only armor was a thin rucksack tunic and your only weapon was a rusted sword – the tip of its chipped blade currently planted in the ground as you struggled to keep yourself on your feet. He could smell blood on you, although he couldn’t be sure if its source was the jagged, poorly bandaged wound on your calf or the dark stains painting your humble clothes. You were clearly not a knight, much less a prince, and if you were a general, your army had abandoned you long ago. Altogether, you were not the most intimidating nuisance he had ever had to dismiss. He might’ve been grateful, had you not been a nuisance at all.

In the past, his visage alone had been enough to make even the bravest adventure abandon their quest, but your weary eyes only glazed over his black-scaled wings, his spiraling horns, the slit pupils of his unnaturally green eyes. You acknowledged him with a slight nod, putting more of your weight on your makeshift aid. “I believe I’m here to slay you, dragon.”

His greeting, likewise, came in the form of a bowed head, a narrowed gaze. “And to rescue the prince, I assume.”

You shrugged, the gesture alone threatening to cost you your balance. “I’m sure they’d prefer if I didn’t. I think they’ve got someone else for that – a lord, or maybe a king. Someone more befitting than a filthy criminal, surely.”

At that, Malleus felt the ghost of a smile tug at the corner of his lips. Novelty was rare, this far into his everlasting life, and he could not say he’d ever had a prisoner sent after his head. “What sort of crime gets you sent to the lair of a monster?”

You brightened at the question. “Thievery,” you answered, pride overshadowing your exhaustion. “I could either face you or let them cut off my hands and, well, I find those to be quite essential to my burgeoning career.”

This time, you earned an airy laugh, a reflexive flick of his tail. He took another moment to evaluate you before speaking. “You are tired, thief.”

It wasn’t a question, but you answered regardless. “It was a long journey. You aren’t an easy monster to reach.”

“And injured, presumably by the fangs of some great beast of legend.”

“Right again.” You paused, then added, “If there are any legends about wolves, I mean.”

“And hungry.” Your smile fell. When you failed to respond, he went on. “May I invite you to share a meal with me before our battle?”

He watched as you swallowed, as you straightened. Your sword was pulled from the ground and allowed to hang limply at your side as you stared up at him with such a hopeful expression – his heart, had it not been so terribly calloused, might’ve broken at the sight alone. “Well,” you started, your humor gone in exchange for pure, unabashed desperation. “I suppose I can’t refuse such a kindly offered invitation.”

With no further conversation, he stepped to the side, raising his staff to the tower. After only a moment, the endless cobblestone pulled away to reveal a simple, wooded door – already open and awaiting his entry. Smiling, he motioned for you to follow him, and without protest, you obeyed.

~

You ate, to put it politely, like a starving animal.

There’d been an attempt at decency when you first sat down at the opposing head of his banquet table, a gallant effort to make use of the flatware arranged into neat, never-ending lines on either side of your plate, but what little energy you had for such pleasantries was depleted quickly as your attention was dedicated entirely to the whims of your empty stomach. Countless other dishes decorated the table – ranging from fine delicacies fit for the pallets of kings to common staples even the lowest of peasantry would’ve been familiar with, but Malleus was content to nurse a goblet of dark, herbed wine as he watched you bask in the feast.

Only after you’d gotten your fill did you seem to remember that you had company, your expression taking on a sheepish note. “This is what they brought me to trial for. Trespassing, I mean,” you began, and Malleus hummed in acknowledgement. “It was a baron’s manor – not quite a castle, but close to it. I heard he had the most beautiful gardens on this continent, and at the time, it seemed unreasonable to have to wait for an invitation just to take a look.”

“I thought you were a thief?”

“You must have the wrong person. I’ve been many things, but never a thief.” You leaned back in your chair. “I’m afraid I’ve always been too tender-hearted for that kind of thing. I could never stand to insult my hosts.”

“Such a considerate guest I have,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “I suppose I won’t have to worry about being robbed blind if I let you stay the night, then.”

You shook your head, feigning ego. “I would never, dear dragon. Your reclusive prince, on the other hand—”

Whatever you might’ve gone on to say was swiftly replaced with a sudden gasp as every torch within sight burst into a pillar of vicious emerald flame, casting the dining room in a blinding, sickly green before dying out just as abruptly as it’d erupted. Malleus let out an exasperated breath, bringing a hand to his temples. “My apologies. My patience has grown—” He cast a wayward glance toward the ash now seared into the stone walls, the ceiling. “—thin, over my time here.”

You allowed a beat to pass by in silence, then another. “Your prince,” you said, finally. “Is he important to you?”

“I can think of nothing I value more.” The answer came easily, even if the intensity of his sentiment surprised him. “An old friend asked me to ensure his safety. I’ve performed my role dutifully ever since.” The taste of blood rose into the back of his throat, but he drowned it out with another long sip from his goblet. “They used to send entire armies to reclaim him, then lone knights, then the occasional adventurer. You might be the first human to come seeking my head in two or three decades.”

Your smile took on a shy lilt, your eyes drifting to the table. “I wasn’t really supposed to come after you, either. Most people just take it as an exile, but they gave me a sword, and…” It was your turn to laugh, now, to be surprised with yourself. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I thought, even if I don’t get to rescue any princes, it could be nice to see how much of the fairy tale is true.”

“And you’re satisfied with what you’ve found?”

“Not entirely,” you admitted. “But I’m glad I met you, dear dragon.”

After some hesitation, he pushed himself to his feet and closed the distance between you. You stiffened, your gaze flitting blatantly toward the sole exit, but you didn’t attempt to flee as he pulled the closest seat in front of you and fell into it. “May I see your leg?”

You were far more than reluctant, but complied. The material of your travel weary trousers was pulled above your knee, the strips of fabric you’d attempted to fashion into bandages cut away with his own pitch-black talons. The wound was worse than he’d assumed, more severe than he assumed. Ragged skin stretched from your knee to your ankle, harsh puncture marks littering what little flesh was still in-tact. The stress of your journey had prevented the brunt of the damage from healing, and even without the use of his advanced senses, he would’ve been able to feel the heat radiating off of your skin, the first signs of infection beginning to set in. You were lucky you’d made it to his tower before the fever spread. His territory was cruel to the most resilient of creatures, and you seemed far from resilient.

“I have a salve in my collection that should aid in your recovery. That, paired with a few days of bed rest, should have you on your feet again in a week’s time.” Not a lie, but not far from one, either. He’d mended worse with a snap of his fingers, but there was no reason you should have to be burdened with such knowledge. “If you can find it within yourself to share a roof with a monster and delay our duel yet again, I can provide room and board while you recover.”

Your laugh was bright and strained. “You’re terribly kind to someone who came here to take your life.”

“And you’re very trusting of a creature who could easily end yours.” He let his pointed claws scrape over your bare skin, prolonging his evaluation. “Think of it as a show of my gratitude. My time here is well-spent, but tends to pass slowly. Visitors, whether benevolent or malicious, help to color my days.”

“Then I will have to be the most colorful visitor you’ve ever had,” you chimed, your grin renewed with fresh vigor. Clearly, you were not the type of mortal who could go long without a task. “I’ll make you wait on me hand and foot and bend to my every whim, until the thought of encountering another human being makes you sick. When I’m done, there might even be a dragon in this tower worth slaying.”

His only response was a steady nod, a low hum. He stood and, in the same motion, hooked one arm under the bend of your knees and another around your waist, lifting you into the air before you had the chance to so much as think to pull away. Instinctually, you attempted to re-balance yourself against him, and Malleus couldn’t help himself – laughing as he pulled you to his chest. “If I am to dote on you to the point of sickness, then let me start now. You’re in no state to walk on your own.”

You opened your mouth as if to complain, but anything you might’ve said was deemed too unimportant to warrant the effort. Your smile softened, your eyes falling shut as you rested your head against his shoulder. You lingered there, quiet and content, as he carried you through the halls of what would come to be your home.

~

Your prescribed period of bed rest came and went. Your bruises healed, then your leg (although you still tended to limp during particularly heavy rainstorms), and your exhaustion was replaced by a buzzing sort of restlessness. He never asked you to leave, and after some time, you seemed to stop expecting him to. You spoke rarely of your past (aside from the ever-changing series of events that led you to his tower, of course) and never of your future. When Malleus was in one of his more indulgent moods, he allowed himself to believe that, when he did catch you looking in his direction with such a glimmering worry in your eyes, you weren’t afraid of him, but of the possibility that he might send you away.

Despite your claims of spoiled houseguests and encumbered hosts, he was only driven to near-madness once while sharing your company. It’d been shortly after you instated yourself as a resident of his tower, rather than a fleeting visitor, and took to exploring your new dwelling without reservation. It’d been his own fault, really. He’d forgotten to warn you away from the upper wing, to resketch the protective runes he’d long-since allowed to fade, but such rationality had escaped him as he stood in the doorway, his mind empty and his eyes trained on your kneeling figure. He watched, paralyzed, as you raised a hand, reaching towards the marble slab, and then he was behind you – the points of his talons grazing the skin of your throat before he managed to restrain himself, curling his fist around the collar of your shirt, instead. Without warning, he hauled you off your feet, ignoring the half-choked shriek you let out in response.

His eyes fell to Silver, searching for any signs of harm, of disruption. Of course, Silver was unchanged. His colorless hair remained fanned over his velvet-cushioned pillow, the silk sheets and hand-stitched quilts still folded neatly at the foot of his bed – waiting to be put to use when the weather turned in autumn. Malleus took a moment to observe the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the gentle movement behind his closed eyes, before letting out a breath of relief and turning to you. “I don’t recall giving you permission to enter this chamber.”

“Sorry, I— I was just looking around, and I saw the flowers on the door—” Silver’s own craftsmanship, preserved from the ravages of time by Malleus’ spell work. He’d painted them as soon as he was old enough to hold a brush, along with matching murals on his bedroom walls that hadn’t survived the passing ages. “—I got curious, that’s all. Is this the prince I was sent after?”

Malleus set his jaw, straightening his hunched posture. “…it is,” he answered, eventually. He let go of your collar and let you stumble onto your feet. “His name is Silver. I never knew him by any titles.”

Malleus’ gaze shifted to you, but your eyes remained fixed on Silver. “He’s beautiful.”

Despite himself, he felt the edge of his lips turn downward. He rested a hand on your shoulder, and you seemed to recover from your daze, turning to face him with a hopeful smile. “Do you know when he’s going to wake up?”

Malleus felt a coil of heat form in the back of the throat. The taste of ash laid heavy over his tongue, but he swallowed back his guilt and forced himself to respond. “In another hundred years, perhaps,” he mused, his tone melodic and detached. “There’s no known cure for a curse like his.”

A phantom of disappointment flickered across your expression, but it was suppressed quickly. Rather, you turned your attention outward – to the heavy, woven curtains draped over each crystalline window. “Will you help me let in some light? I hate to insult your taste, but it’s terribly depressing in here, and—” You brightened, taking him by the sleeve and tugging gingerly. “We don’t want his highness to have any nightmares, do we?”

With some reluctance, Malleus nodded. “Light, but nothing else.” When you failed to acknowledge him, he caught you by the wrist, squeezing with just enough pressure for your smile to falter. “Light, but nothing else. Do you understand?”

Your eyes darted back to Silver, but only for a moment. He was thankful for that – for your restraint. A second longer, and his true nature might’ve overshadowed his better judgement. “Of course, dear dragon. Nothing else.”

He inhaled sharply, then let go of you altogether.

It was a choice that, in the approaching months, he would only come to regret.

~

“This is what they banished me for, you know.”

“This?”

“Yes, this exactly.” You propped your chin on his chest, positioning yourself to more easily card your fingers through his hair. He let his eyes fall shut, basking in the warmth of your affection, of your bare skin pressed into his. Your clothes laid discarded on the grass around you, one of his wings bent and raised to shield you from the harsh light of the setting sun. He would have to get you back to the tower, soon. He’d always been indifferent to the deadly chill of night, but you – in your precious, delicate mortality – were not so durable. “Actually, not quite – I don’t think I ever made it to this part. It was the first time I’d ever attended a royal ball, and I happened to dance with a young lady so breath-taking, I couldn’t help but drop to one knee and dedicate my heart to her the moment our hands touched.” You sighed, feigning remorse. “Little did I know that she was the princess that ball was being thrown for, and so moved by my passion, she refused to let me out of her embrace until I agreed to marry her. Of course, her father – the king, as the fathers of princesses tend to be – couldn’t have that. It’s a shame, really. We would’ve made a gorgeous couple.”

Malleus pursed his lips, fighting back a smile. “And what does that make me? The next scorned lover of a silver-tongued rouge?”

“Oh, no. If you asked me to marry you,” You propped yourself up, pressing a kiss into the curve of his jaw. “There’d be nothing in the world that could stop me, dear dragon.”

Your hand fell to his cheek, and wistfully, you lulled him into a kiss – shallow but lingering, punctuated with a playful nip at his bottom lip. You pulled back with a smile, another quick peck to his cheek. You moved to say something, but he interrupted you, as mournful as he was to cut off such a precious moment so callously. “I found your wildflowers.”

Immediately, your expression fell. “I made sure not to—”

“I know, beloved, I know.” You knew better than to lay a hand on Silver. Your small bouquet had been left on the corner of his bed, another additional chain of asters and lavender braided into one of the longer strands of his waist-length hair. As much as he wished he could say he was only concerned for Silver’s well-being, it wouldn’t have been the truth. Something else, something darker, had accompanied the discovery – something it would be better for you to stay ignorant of. “We’ve talked about this. Silver is vulnerable, in his current condition. Even the simplest luxury is an unspeakable risk.”

Your shoulders dropped, your body going slack against his. You bowed your head, burying your face in the dip of his shoulder, and despite his frustration with you, he didn’t push you away. “I’m sorry. It just feels so cruel to let him suffer alone.”

“He’s never been alone.” His tone was more curt than he’d meant it to be. “He’s always had me.”

“I know, but—” He expected you to raise your hair, to flash him that brilliant grin. Instead, you only settled against him, speaking softly into the crook of his neck. “He just seems so sad.”

Malleus took a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut.

Then, before he could let himself think better of it, he wrapped an arm around your waist. In one fluid motion, he turned you over – leaving you on your back, one of his knees planted on either side of your waist, your form tucked safely underneath his. His kiss was less gentle than your own – that deep, aching sort of hunger overwhelming his cautiousness as his tongue raked over yours, as he groaned unabashedly into your mouth. You returned his affection emphatically; your fingers soon knotted in his hair, your eager touch preventing so much as the thought of distance between your body and his. Because there never would be distance between you and him. Because there was no reason you should ever have to be taken away from him.

Hours later, when the last traces of light had faded and the stars were painted in swirling patterns across the sky, he would carry you back to his tower – unconscious and pliable in his arms. That would be the first night you spent in his bed, and as he laid there with you, he couldn’t help but imagine how wonderful it would be if you never left.

~

The runes carved into Silver’s door were redrawn, Malleus’ enchantments refreshed, and your bittersweet sympathy slowly rotted into a distinctly bland melancholy. You didn’t speak of him (Malleus could only wonder how you ever managed to speak of anyone when so many of his marks so often decorated your skin), but he noticed new scratches around the well-rusted lock on Silver’s door, caught you braiding chains of daisies and crowns of marigolds with no intended recipient in mind, and at night, you tended to slip out of his hold and wander. Sometimes, he waited for you, lying awake as you hunted for whatever solace there was to find in the empty halls of an ancient tower. Most nights, tonight, he chased after you.

He found you in a window near the tower’s highest room, laid across the wooden sill, your back propped against the empty frame. He didn’t ask to join you – wordlessly lowering himself to the floor at your feet. As if by reflex, your hand fell to his horns, your thumb tracing over a particular ridge near the base as you broke the quiet. “Have ever told you why I’m here, dear dragon?”

Countless times, but he still played along. “Who has my heart been stolen by today, beloved?”

“A murderer,” you said, hollowly. “And not a particularly clever one, at that.”

He waited for you to go on, to spin some elaborate tale of love and loss and betrayal and poor humor, but you only lapsed back into silence, your gaze turning back to the pitch-black valley. He watched your vacant expression for a moment, then another before letting his eyes fall shut and resting his cheek against your thigh.

~

Malleus had expected there to be more anger than this.

You were in a similar position to one you’d taken the first time you stumbled into Silver’s chambers – kneeling beside his marble bed, your ever-weary eyes fixed on the unknowing object of your adoration. The only difference was that, today, Silver’s hand was raised to your lips, now slightly parted in shock. He didn’t have to guess at the source of your astonishment. In front of you, Silver was sitting up. His posture was unsteady, his eyes barely open, but the obvious was undeniable.

He was awake.

To think, there was something of merit to Lilia’s stories of true love after all.

Rather than anger, rage, pure and undiluted fury, an odd sort of calm settled over his blank mind as you snapped in his direction. Your astonishment turned to horror in an instant. “Malleus, I didn’t— I was only trying to—”

He put you out of your mercy quickly. He raised his staff and, propelled by some unseen force, you were torn away from Silver’s bedside and thrown against the nearest walls – the force of the collision far from fatal, but enough to leave you limp and unconscious. With your safety ensured, he stepped forward, approaching Silver. He was awake, but only just. So many decades of uninterrupted sleep would not be so willing to release him from their taloned clutches without a struggle, and there was a certain dream-like lull to the way his eyes skirted over the limited scenery before settling on Malleus, his features immediately softening in relief. “Malleus?”

“I’m here.” Malleus allowed himself a small smile before bringing the end of his staff to Silver’s forehead. “You can rest, brother.”

There was just enough time for the edges of Silver’s lips to turn downward before he collapsed back onto the marble slab. Malleus would arrange him later on. For now, his attention turned to you.

He gathered your crumpled form in his arms and carried you through the halls of his lonely tower, before stepping into the clear air and fresh heat of the valley. He laid you in the tall grass and, after taking a moment to appreciate your peaceful expression, brought a hand to your face, cupping your cheek tenderly. The spell came to him instinctually, but he took his time, mourning the loss of your time together with each mumbled word. That was a silver-lining of immortality, though. Infinite time allowed for infinite repetition, and he couldn’t imagine giving up the opportunity to fall in love with you again.

When he was done, your eyes fluttered open, a smile quickly finding its way to your lips. “Hello, dragon.” You gazed darted to either side nervously, your mind struggling to catch up with your clever tongue. “I would love to introduce myself, but it’s the funniest thing – I can’t seem to remember what I’m doing here.”

He bit back a smile. You tried to force yourself into a more dignified position, but barely managed to get an arm underneath you before pausing, wincing, reaching for the back of your head and coming away with blood smeared across your fingertips. Malleus did what he could to hide his delight.

“You’re a thief. You injured yourself attempting to scale my tower. It was an impressive effort, but tragically unnecessary.”

This time, he couldn’t hide the wide, simpering grin that came to rest across his lips.

“I was always going to invite you inside.”