#mention of Meleanor vaguely

[hanafubukki]

“Malleus! Stop this right now!”

The resulting laughter sent shivers down the backs of everyone.

It was a dark, deep laugh filled with ragged breaths between.

Even bloodied and stained with blot, Malleus stood tall.

A regal figure in front of all.

A King.

A sentiment that would have filled Lilia with pride before, now only brought distraught.

“Mall-”

“I am Your Highness to you!”

Lilia visibly flinched back.

Shocked.

Malleus had never spoke such a way to him before.

Malleus grinned, all teeth with gleaming eyes. Satisfied with the reaction he caused.

“Ah~ Lilia~ Why are you so surprised? Isn’t this what you wanted? It was never I who made these boundaries. It was you who placed these lines.”

“No! No matter what you say, you’ll always be Malleus to me. You’ll always be my-”

“You’re too late!” Malleus snarled, “I’ll play the Benevolent Prince as you have always asked of me.”

He raised his staff, smirking as the ones before him readied themselves again for the fight.

“I’ll fight to the end just as My Mother before me had done.” The Prince tilted his head, soaking in the looks his words caused.

“My Mother was lucky. She had soldiers who were loyal to her till the very end,” he frowned, “but my own? They dare wield their weapons against me.”

A self-depreciating smile, “I have always been rather unfortunate, haven’t I? Even before my birth.”

“Now come forth. I tire of these games.”

…wow Malleus, you sure are chatty this time. It’s like you had thoughts you needed to say but never could huh 🤔 good for you, let it all out. ☺️👏

I really wanted to write this scene as it was inspired by one of my favorite books, “The King of Attolia”

The way status and titles are played in that novel really inspired me. It was all about keeping a front in society but underneath it all, they were a family who loved each other and would do anything for the other.

[ventique18]

Let me start with saying i love your blog really really much, this is something that has been rent free on my mind since Diasomia's arc started, is Malleus' father a dragon fae? I read the translations of chap 7 and i don't think i saw it mentioned, they just stayed vague on what kind of fairy he was, many fans started saying he was not a dragon, if that would be the case doesn't that mean Malleus is an half-blood!? The dragon bloodline isn't pure!?

Meleanor rejected many dragon suitors to marry the person she loved, whoever he was, why not say if Levan was a dragon or not, this is stressing me out. Especially since i saw the Crowley's theory.

Hi thank you so much for this question! I actually also wanted to address this, as I've seen some people (particularly on Twst EN Twitter and Reddit fandoms) who believe that the "Malleus is half Long because Levan is a Long" theory is canon. It's actually just one of the common theories which are:

He is a Long prince/noble.

He is simply a Raven fae. This is also why many believe that Levan is Crowley as both ravens and crows are collectively karasu in Japanese.

Let me put on a disclaimer that I'm leaning more on the theory that Levan might not necessarily be Crowley, but he is indeed a Bird Fae-- because his name does sound like Raven in the Japanese language, and the fact that Malleus' Platinum Jacket portrait has both Maleficent and her loyal raven Diablo in it. You are correct that there was never an explicit reveal on what he was though.

~ A short explanation on the first theory ~

So how did the first theory come to be? Because his official title in Briar Kingdom is 竜眼公 lit. Dragon Eye Lord. Some people have taken this literally and assumed that it means Levan is a dragon; more specifically, a Long. That's because the 竜 in his title is a kanji character and Twst happened to exactly distinguish in the Endless Halloween event an Asian Long 竜 (in kanji alphabet), and a western dragon ドラゴン (in katakana alphabet). Malleus specifies that he is a ドラゴン.

Now while theorizing that Levan is a Long is somewhat valid, it's less likely. Because a) it's common practice in Japanese to use kanji in formal titles and unusual to use katakana which is why ドラゴン was not used, which means b) Levan's "Dragon Eye Lord" title is just to indicate that he is Meleanor's eyes, as Lilia described him in the same chapter. This is also what Diablo's role is in the original movie.

~ Commenting on the theory that Levan is a Bird Fae ~

This is the most likely logical theory at this point, and you're correct that this means Malleus is half a dragon, half a bird. However, it's looking more and more like the fae are going with Mendel's Law of Inheritance with the Draconias' genes as extremely dominant that all other genes mixed in become recessive. Which means that while they're technically not pure-blooded dragons, the dragon genes will always appear in full view anyway so they might as well be pure. This is probably why Lilia mentions that the Draconias are "descended from dragons" rather than simply dragons. They may have varying fae species packed in their blood, but the dragon genes just completely cover them like a wallpaper lol.

Thanks so much for asking this! It was a fun write!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Do you think we can find Meleanor in the spectral realm?

Possibly, but I don't think the evidence is very strong for it since we don't really know a lot about how the Spectral Realm even works or what is considered "enough" to anchor a deceased person's spirit to the physical plane of existence.

***Book 6 and 7 spoilers under the cut!!***

For example, the senators of Briar Valley are said to be ancient spirits (presumably of dead fae?) capable of wielding powerful magic. What makes them different from ghosts? Why do the Draconias seem to obey their word even though the Draconias should be more powerful than them...? I've seen some fan theories stating that the senators might be deceased Draconias themselves, but if that's the case then why wouldn't Meleanor also be "left behind" in a ghostly form, whether as a senator-like spirit or as a ghost? The way the narrative treats her passing, it is as though she is gone for good and was not brought back in any way. Which, honestly, is a little strange to me because you’d think she’d linger as a ghost because she has a country, and unborn son, and a missing husband to worry about. Many, many possible regrets and attachments to bind her to this plane of existence.

It's also not clear what the ground rules are for the Spectral Realm or ghosts "passing on" in general. Yes, we know that ghosts exist because of lingering attachments or unfulfilled desires. But... what happens once those are resolved? The lore implies they ascend to another world, but that "other world" is not well-defined. This "other world" could be the Spectral Realm, sure. But what's the point of the Spectral Realm's existence if it seems like ghosts can pass between the world of the living and the dead with barely an issue???

The only thing I can maybe think of which could be perceived as "Meleanor's spirit resides in the Spectral Realm" is the time Lilia mentioned he stumbled across a portal to the other world, but never entered it. Even then, this detail is so vague you can interpret it any number of ways. You could see it as Lilia being on the hunt for Meleanor's spirit after her passing, but was unable to enter the Spectral Realm (under normal circumstances) since he was still living. I don't know if this is really the case though, since he doesn't seem to have qualms about partying over in the Spectral Realm rather than... I don't know, potentially letting Malleus meet his mom or something 😅 In any case, I personally like to think that Meleanor is entirely gone from this world. It enhances the emotional stakes and drama of what Lilia and Malleus are going through right now. Meleanor still being around in a ghostly form, able to talk to Lilia or her son whenever she wants, feels a little convenient and scared to fully commit to the darkness of their history to me. (I want to stress I don't see this as being the same as Idia bringing Ortho "back"; this was a trauma response for him and it's still clear it has a large emotional impact on him even when he brings Ortho "back" to cope with his circumstances. Meanwhile, having Meleanor around alleviates the guilt and loneliness both Lilia and Malleus have, and lord knows how this would alter the senators' feelings about what happened.)

[chernabogs]

` I wish I never met you.. ` but with general lilia and a human reader... 👀

this took a turn lmao

Mead & Ignicolists

Inc: General Lilia, human reader (GN), Maleficia, Meleanor, Levan, platoon of soldiers, 1 barmaid. Warnings: War, mentions of death, mentions of political strife, possible graphic description of conflict (village burning), alcohol mention WC: 4.7k (help) Summary: Repeated meetings in conflict can sometimes lead to interesting terms, and debts must always be paid.

Hate does not appear immediately. It’s a slow brewing concoction, crafted from a myriad of ingredients that bubble and broil in one’s guts like a black ichor until it’s all that your body becomes knowledgeable of. Lilia did not hate the humans when they initially arrived. In fact, he’d say he never knew hate in his life at that point. Their arrival was heralded more as a vague notation in the bottom of the meeting agenda—a ship spotted on the shores, with a crew of people clearly not of the fae race.

He doubts anyone batted an eye at the comment. He knows he certainly didn’t, nor did Meleanor, whose mind was too preoccupied with important matters pertaining to the swell in her stomach beneath her dress. Perhaps out of everyone present, it was Levan who paid the most heed, as it was Levan who asked the valuable question of— 

“What is it they seek?” 

A question glossed over until the intel unit could gather more information. Lilia remembers not missing the concern etched in Levan’s body language, nor the way he leaned close to murmur in Meleanor’s ear. Her brow had arched slightly, her lips turning to a frown, but then her gaze had gone back to the court at hand and the matter was dropped until further notice. 

It’s two weeks later—a mere sigh for a fae—that Lilia and Levan are both called to a private meeting. It’s not Meleanor who has summoned them, but rather Maleficia, with her ungiving gaze that held a weight so great that Lilia still finds himself unable to meet it nearly 200 years later. 

“Resources.” She explains, her black nails tapping an indiscernible rhythm on the desk she sits at. “They seek resources. Which resources we remain unsure of, but they have been lurking about the mountains and the valleys to our east. They even have a camp.” 

“They were not authorized to harvest,” Levan murmurs, his golden eyes wide in surprise. “Is it not protocol to gain permission from the royal authority before digging into foreign land? I do believe that to be a standard for human culture… or perhaps what I read is outdated…” 

“It is a standard, for both humans and fae. You would not see us digging into diurnal lands without permission, hm? Lest we wish to have a multitude of curses from their court upon us.” Maleficia’s voice drips with some wry contempt as she slides a paper forward. “I have spoken with Princess Meleanor. We will send scouts to the nearest camp—Lilia, you will be the authority for that.” 

Of course, he would be. Levan is being put on house arrest—palace arrest? —as Meleanor’s pregnancy progresses. He’s as valuable as she when it comes to the life of the egg they had sired. Lilia takes the paper and skims over it, memorizing each pattern and coordinate, before rolling it up and pocketing it with a bow. 

“With pleasure.” 

—

He doesn’t go alone, nor does he go with a small unit. Lilia prides himself as a man who, when he commits, truly commits to what he’s tasked. He travels to the nearest human encampment—on the very fringes of the dark woods—with a platoon. He had tried to persuade the royal family to allow an entire company, but Meleanor had rendered that idea null with a single lightning bolt to the floor. 

A rather dramatic reaction in his opinion. 

The ride is silent, mainly because Baul wasn’t assigned to attend, which means it’s also a terribly boring journey as well. Lilia’s gaze continues to dart from tree to tree as they move. His breath rattles against the mask that sits snug on his face, making him far more intimidating than his appearance may give. Intimidation is the tactic here. Levan wanted this done democratically—but Lilia is aiming for results. He can feel his body nearly itching for some kind of confrontation as he hears the hisses and snarls of the platoon that accompanies him. 

They don’t need to wait long. Within a few hundred yards from the campsite, they’re swiftly confronted by a unit of humans adorned in armor that glistens under the sparse light. It’s silver, and gaudy, and could get them killed within minutes in these woods with the way they look like tiny beacons in the night. He can feel his lips curl under the mask. 

“Halt!” One voice command. He looks at them—looks at you—impassively. He cannot discern your gender, as you wear a helmet that partially covers your face, and your armor looks the same as everyone else that emerges around you. “State your name.” 

Another rapture of snarls emerges from behind Lilia, which he silences swiftly with a single raised hand. He then takes a step back with one foot and sweeps into a mocking bow. “General Vanrouge, of the Thorn Court. We are curious of our unexpected visitors, and so we arrive with a request for answers to our inquiries.” 

He thanks the stars that Levan forced the human language down his throat in the form of too many tomes to count. You observe him—or so he thinks, as he cannot see your eyes—before looking back to the others. “Inform the captain that a representative of the Thorn Court has arrived. With company.” 

There’s already tension brewing. He can taste it on his tongue, and it takes the form of a wavering grin beneath his mask. He shouldn’t want a fight, but he has enough pent up energy to do so, and he could tell that the presence of these humans has stirred up stress within the court now, including with Meleanor. 

In her condition, she doesn’t need the stress, and that puts him on edge as well. 

Your head turns back to look at him, and his masked face tilts up to look at you. No words are exchanged—the conversation between unseen gazes says it all. 

—

The Thorn Court doesn’t progress in communications past the sparse camp that Lilia visits, which he learns is nothing more than a scouting camp designated to establish perimeters—basically, a group of low, low ranking soldiers wandering about. They send a unit to the main camp, and that unit vanishes off the face of the earth. 

So, they send another, and another, each unit resulting in the same outcome of nothing but vague wondering and whispered words regarding their whereabouts. The assumption is that they’ve been killed en-route. With a forest full of dire beasts and humans, Lilia wagers that to be quite accurate.��

He doesn’t run into you again until those tensions have mounted higher, and this time, he’s alone. It was more by fluke than anything else—he had simply wandered too far into the dark woods, his mind fraught with concerns regarding the barrage of meetings he had earlier. Another village burned; another valley stripped bare of resources. The depletion was already beginning to impact the Valleys financial standing—by a fair amount, considering how close to tears the royal accountant looked giving his updates. 

When he spots you, you have yet to see him. You’re without your blinding armor and standing at the edge of a lake, a rag in hand and a furrow in your brow. You remain blissfully unaware of the monstrous fae that’s laid claim to that lake, as well as the way that very creature is watching you now from the reeds just a few feet ahead. 

Lilia see’s It. He’s quite familiar with It, as the same bastard had tried to drown Levan when they were younger. His lips curl into a grin again. He has half the mind to let It pull you under. That would be one less human to concern himself with, after all. Until, like some horrible divine intervention on your behalf, he hears Levan’s voice whispering in his mind. 

Democratically.

He tries to ignore it, but he can so perfectly picture his friend's disappointed face in his head, to the point that he feels a cold chill up his spine like the man is watching this from afar. Knowing Levan, this isn’t too outlandish of a fear. 

“Niftehn,” he hisses, his native tongue slipping through as he steps forward from the shadows and—rather than announcing his presence—fires a rock into the nearby reeds. There’s a gaudy screeching sound as the fae—a cross between a scaled beast, a horse, and a man—launches forward in a bid to grab you before Lilia’s next move. 

It’s fast, but Lilia is much faster. He has his sword tip against the beast's forehead in seconds, halting It in Its tracks as It tenses, snarling and drooling in hunger and rage. It’s starving and for a moment Lilia feels sympathy. Thanks to the humans, they’re all starving as of late. 

“Zyln-imna.” He coos, a shit-eating grin on his lips as he and the creature square off. It gives him one last filthy look before sinking back down into the mud and reeds, until only bubbles indicate Its presence to begin with. He lowers his sword with a sigh and turns back to address you—

Only to find you well and gone. 

He stands for a moment, up to his calves in mud, and then scowls as he shoves his sword into the sheath on his back. How ungrateful of you to not even thank him for such charitable heroics. 

—

After that encounter, you cross paths several more times, to the point that he’s beginning to wonder if you’ve placed a tracking spell on his body. He even checks his supplies just in case—a childish action. The two of you don’t converse much between the multitude of squabbles that seem to break out as your scouting unit runs into his platoons. He doesn’t kill any of your men—but he certainly guarantees that you’ll all be carrying the message to your superiors, and you return the favour as well. 

This back and forth continues for months as the summer season weens into winter's embrace. The first snowfall is cutthroat, as it often is in Briar Valley. The platoon he guides cannot move until the unexpected squall dies away by mornings light, and so he makes the tactical decision to have everyone bank in a nearby village in the meantime. 

Unfortunately, as fates would have it, you seem to be doing the same with your unit as well. 

It takes a lot of dancing around for him to make sure his men don’t know about your men in the village. He doesn’t want a battle—he wants a drink, which is how he finds himself slinking into the town tavern with his hood up and his face tilting down. As a fae, he should be quite welcome here—but he knows that some villages have declared neutrality, and others in favour of human occupancy. This village he can’t get a read of quite yet. 

He does manage to get a drink without much hassle, and he’s settling down in a booth in a dark corner when the sound of another pint slamming on the table snaps his attention up. He hopes it’s one of his men—instead, he sees your scowling face looking back. 

“What a sunny greeting.” Lilia mumbles wryly as he narrows his eyes. You sit down across from him and proceed to make yourself quite at home. Months of repeated interactions appear to have made you quite bold. “I could kill you right now.”

“You don’t have your sword.” You counter as you take a swig of your drink. It seems like this isn’t your first one, with the way your sharp tongue is in full effect. “Are you going to strangle me across the table instead?”

“I should. It might teach you manners for once.”

Despite the threats, he has no intention of doing anything like that right now. Instead, he takes a swig of his own drink, watching you from over the rim with interest. He vaguely recalls a quote about ‘feasting with the enemy’ that he likely read during some tutelage session many years back. How ironic that he would be living it tonight. 

“You age yourself with comments like that.” You set your mug down on the table and observe him back. Despite the pouring drinks, your eyes remain sharp and alert—eyes he’s become quite familiar with as of late. “People here will catch on that you’re not human.”

He chuckles, giving a flash of white fangs against the dark. “Oh? You think my people will be so quick to rally against me? There must be a reason your unit is dressed in plain clothes, with your weapons and armor well-concealed from curious eyes.” A click of his tongue, and he leans close. “At least the lamb is aware of its place amongst the starving dogs.”

He leans back again as a beat of silence follows. You seem unaffected by his words as you take another drink. “Quaint. Is that your default line for those you meet on tavern nights?” 

For a second his mind doesn’t process your words. Then it clicks, and his brow furrows deeply in annoyance. “Disgusting. Your implications are souring my drink.” 

“Implications? I implied nothing of sorts.” You touch a hand to your chest and grin a little. “You were the one who put those implications in place.” 

He feels red hot irritation for a moment before he stifles it by downing the rest of his drink. Fae mead is meant to be savoured—but with your presence, he has a feeling he’ll finish the barrel by the end of the night. He waves a hand for a refill before his expression softens slightly into one of mild annoyance instead. 

“Why is your unit passing through here, anyway? You have already scouted these hills—months ago, in fact. I do recall our encounter then.” 

“Quite unforgettable,” you grumble back, grimacing as you do. You’re probably remembering the clash between you both, and perhaps you’re remembering the spirited banter that also occurred. Lilia wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you have the honour of being the only enemy he’s tried to have a conversation with mid-conflict. “We’ve been sent to scout again. I haven’t the faintest idea why, by the way.”

Your quick explanation silences his next comment. He bites his tongue and leans back. There’s a passage nearby that leads through the forbidden mountains—it’s only mildly less treacherous than crossing the mountains directly. He already knows this is what Heinrich seeks in sending your unit here. “How drab.” 

“Drab?” You wave a hand for a refill as well before fixing him with a glare. “My apologies that I don’t have exciting news of espionage and murder plots to keep you amused.” 

“Oh, I dare say you’re doing wonderfully right now without the murder to boot.” He pauses as the barmaid sets down two new drinks before departing. He tugs the hood a bit lower before taking a drink. “If you’re merely scouting out the passage within the mountain, then that’s hardly worth a full-scale confrontation between us, no?” 

Your gaze snaps up to him quickly when he relays your units plan, only for you to see the cheeky little grin he wears. Then your expression falls flat again, and you sigh. “Why do I even try?” 

“Because you like trying to play soldier. It’s quaint. I tried hard to do the same when I was still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed too.” He hums. Silence falls between you both once more as drinks are poured and emptied. There really is no need for conversation, and yet by the fifth pint, he finds himself growing restless once more. 

“Why are you still sitting here?” He finally grumbles as he sets the half-empty pint down. “I’m starting to believe you’re plotting something.” 

“Can I not have a drink with an acquaintance?” You counter, not budging from your position across from him. He narrows his eyes again. 

“Acquaintances? Is that what we are?” Another sharp grin. “And how do I get the term ‘companion’, then? Is it a promotion by dual, or do I just need to drop you on your ass a few more times?” 

Your leg shoots out to kick him underneath the booth, making him hiss in pain as his hand comes down to rub his knee. “Brat. I should have you dragged out for that.” 

“Delarynn surith.” The words that leave you are pronounced so poorly, it takes him a minute to process what it is you said. He doesn’t even recognize it as his own native tongue until you repeat it again. 

Delarynn… lord. Surith… 

Lord. 

Lord bitch. 

Lilia can’t help the cackle that escapes him, loud enough to draw a few gazes their way as he slouches over in the booth. Perhaps its the fae mead, or perhaps it’s the scowl on your face when you said those words with such confidence, but the whole situation is coming across as the funniest shit he’s heard in a while. 

“Who taught you that pronunciation?” He gasps between laughs as he wipes his eyes. “I’ve heard infant fae speak better!” 

“Oh, shut it. At least I’m integrating with the culture here!” You counter, scowling still as you take a drink. Then your expression starts to crack a bit as well, and soon your shoulders are shaking with chuckles. “God, I did butcher that…”

“Delarynn is not del-rye-win. It’s deh-lahr-rin. Surith, though, you did quite well. I suppose it’s a word many who come to the Valley learn quickly.” He muses as he chuckles a few more times before falling silent. The barmaid brings over another pint. “I should teach you some more before you piss off every villager you meet.” 

“That would be nice.” You murmur as you take a drink. It doesn’t occur to either of you until a few seconds later that such an occasion would, in all reality, likely never happen. When will you two meet amicably after tonight? Perhaps there’s a thin chance, but you’re more likely to encounter it in dreams than anywhere else. 

This seems to dawn on you slowly as you set your pint down. He watches your face, watches the thoughts flit by, before you sigh. “... I wish I never met you; you know.” 

His eyebrow arches at the comment. “The feeling is mutual. Never meeting you would mean none of what we are living would have ever happened.” 

No war, no death, no conflict day in and out. He would still be working at the palace by Meleanor and Levan’s sides, poking fun at courtiers and assisting in the arduous process of nursery planning. He wouldn’t be leading platoons, spending cold winter nights alone in taverns, and feeling an ever present sense of doom about what was to come. 

A curious expression crosses your face. It’s a mix of both contemplation and conflict. You seem to be fighting yourself for a moment before you finally clear your throat and lean forward. “The lake. When you stopped that thing from attacking me. I never thanked you for that,” you begin. 

“No. You scurried off into the bushes like a scared little lamb.” Lilia shoots back with a smirk. “Are you thanking me now? You can always do so by covering my tab.” 

“No. A tab wouldn’t be enough.” You lean close then, close enough that he feels your breath on his skin. It smells sweet, like the mead you’ve both been drinking tonight, and he tenses at the proximity. A part of him wants to grab your neck and slam you on the table for having the audacity to come so close. Another part, which confuses him the most, wants to grab you there and do something entirely different. “A life for a life.”

“What?” His voice sharpens as your words quickly sober him. You hush him and glance over your shoulder. 

“Ten kilometres east. Tomorrow. There’s a unit moving into the village there. It’s a supply stocking mission.” You then lean back and take a swig of your mead, like nothing ever happened at all. He stares at you blankly as you rise from your seat and push the empty pint aside. “Do stay warm, General.” 

Before you can move away, his hand snaps out and wraps around your wrist in a vice grip. You look down at him in shock and frustration, and he returns that expression tenfold. “Why tell me this?” 

“Because I owe you. I don’t want to be in debt to a fae.” You hiss back, looking towards the rest of the patrons in concern. He remains unwavering in his approach. 

“Really? You could have just paid the tab, not inform me of crucial information. Why tell me this?” 

“Because I owe you,” you double down, and he hisses at those words. 

“Do not lie to me.” 

You twist back, leaning close to his face once more. There’s that sweet scent again—although this time he can’t be sure if it’s from the mead or not. “Because I am tired of death, and I have been reconsidering where I stand.” 

There’s a pause. Lilia isn’t a gambling man, but in times of conflict, sometimes a gamble is all that one can do. He squeezes your wrist once. “The birch tree, just beyond the village line. Seven sharp. If you are reconsidering, then reconsider fast.”

Then he releases you and turns away with a wave. You watch him for just a moment before you finally slip back into the crowd of patrons that now fill the tavern. He feels that sense of doom in his gut once more as he nurses his drink just a bit closer.

A gamble.

He hopes this doesn’t flip on him. 

—

The snow lets up in the morning and it is with this revelation that he changes the course their platoon is moving. Rather than return directly to Black Scale Palace, they would divert ten kilometres east—to avoid drafts, he explains. The platoon moves steadily towards the town line, and it’s at the birch tree that he spots a familiar figure ahead. His stomach turns as the platoon begins to whisper and hiss.

They know you. 

“At ease.” Lilia orders them sharply as he approaches you—alone. You observe him with a blank look. You have no weapons, but he searches you anyway. 

“I don’t know if I consider you wise or foolish,” he mumbles as his hands pat you down. You could be a valuable asset for the information you know—and that’s how he’ll pitch it to his unit. “Forgive me for the next moments.” 

You hiss as he yanks your arms behind your back and binds them tight. “... I think both foolish and wise are correct.” 

He says nothing further beyond the explanation of your surrender as the platoon sets off once more, with you now trailing by his side. He considers that he should have blessed you last night—it may have done well to ease the tensions from the others in the group. Perhaps this is something he can do when the two of you are alone next.

The walk through the dark woods to the village you revealed is a silent one filled with a sense of dread on his part. He can feel your unease as well, and it’s beginning to affect the rest of the soldiers. The snow muffles all sound around them, save for their footsteps as they move. They only stop for a moment to recoup before he demands that they push on. 

A supply stocking mission is a common mission the humans embark on, and one that his soldiers have dealt with many times. It’s a simple and petty way to disrupt business for the Silver Owls—so he doesn’t expect much of a hassle. 

Which is why he’s rendered to a halt when the first faint scent of smoke reaches him. The other soldiers soon draw to a pause as well. Fae are blessed with senses far more advanced then humans, and so the confusion on your face is easily written off. 

“General…” one soldier begins slowly, his mask tilting up towards the treeline above. Lilia follows his direction. 

There’s a light in the distance. It’s an orange haze, and as he continues to watch, he sees the first tongues of flames begin licking at the sky. A plume of smoke rises—black, as dark as the clouds swirling above—and then grows. 

That sense of doom Lilia has felt since this began suddenly ignites to a full blown inferno in his abdomen. He rattles off orders to the platoon before his mind has even caught up with his tongue, and within moments the unit is dashing through the forest at a breakneck pace. He grips your arm in a vice-like hold as he drags you along, snarling with every step.

“A supply stocking?” He spits as he yanks you closer to the clearing. The village you had informed him of was a small plot, consisting mostly of fae families that work the surrounding fields for the grain harvests each year. It’s a picturesque place that Lilia visited a few times on royal tours. 

It isn’t picturesque right now. Orange and red clash to create a painting of chaos. Buildings now stand as silhouettes against the great blaze that’s being fed by the grain, and the wooden structures, and the many trees that used to line the village streets. Lilia’s breath hitches as he observes the scene before them. 

“This wasn’t what I was told!” You gasp as you look on as well. He can see the abject horror in your gaze, the genuineness behind the fear in your voice. This wasn’t what you were told. Something went wrong, or something else was planned the entire time. 

Someone lied. 

Someone lied, lied, lied. 

But of course, they did. 

This is a war, isn’t it? His kind against yours, those who want versus those who have. You both should have assumed that others would take note of your encounters over these past few months, of the banter you’ve had and the grins you’ve exchanged mid-conflict. Perhaps someone set you up to be at that tavern, where he would be that night as well. Perhaps someone put all the pieces in place which would lead for you both to share a night, to whisper words, in hopes that you would tell him what was to come. 

He says nothing to you, but the look he gives shows that you are not accountable for this as of right now. He waves a hand for you to be taken somewhere safer than here—after all, it seems you’ve been marked as an aid to his side anyway. He may as well make you one.  

Then the scent hits him. Scorched earth: there’s a lingering aroma of charred something. The crackle of buildings crumbling from the heat and the high pitched whine of glass shattering under pressure. His men rush around him, ripping into the village and shouting for backup, for water, for survivors.

And he stands there. He stands there, drinking it all in, his eyes wide yet unseeing, his pupils dilated with adrenaline. Until a laugh bubbles from his lips. A wry, tiny chuckle, which quickly grows into a hysterical cackle, which somehow evolves to a scream of fury that tears apart his throat as it leaves. It cuts through the smoke and the ash and the snow that he can hardly see now from the burning tears—not from soot, not from soot—that blind his gaze. 

Families. Children. People who have done nothing but simply exist. He can visualize tiny forms charred black, their limbs stiff and curled in a last effort attempt to shield themselves from the heat they’re consumed by. He can see mothers holding children, husbands holding wives, lovers in their last moments.

Hate does not appear immediately. It’s a slow brewing concoction, crafted from a myriad of ingredients that bubble and broil in one’s guts like a black ichor until it’s all that your body becomes knowledgeable of. Lilia did not hate the humans when they initially arrived. In fact, he’d say he never knew hate in his life at that point.

He knows it now as he bears witness to fire, as he smells burning memories, as he hears history crumbling to its foundations.

He knows what it feels like to hate. 

[aventurine83]

Lilia Vanrouge X Reader

✿Briar's Secret [Part 5]✿

Note: Angst, fluff?, mentions of OC death, mention of death in war, Meleanor's little sister!reader, chief strategist!reader, present twst era.

Includes my twst OC Midnight.

"Alright. We're almost there." Lilia chuckled, his black bangs now cut short as compared to his General days, his hair now dyed with magenta streaks that only made him appear all the more beautiful.

"So this is your friend's grave." his son Silver remarked as his auroral eyes scanned the text written on the grave. "Midnight-?" Silver placed a hand tentatively on the lettering on the grave. 

"Thats right. He was one of my old friends." Lilia chuckled, hands placing a stringed bouquet of flowers of assorted colours ranging from pure white to the palest pink. "He was a devoted protector of someone I loved dearly." 

"Oh." Silver knew better than to question his father about the vague people he spoke of. Lilia knew better than to openly tell his son of such matters either. He had only the deepest of gratitudes for Silver's willingness to avoid discussing what irked Lilia's consciousness most. He had raised quite a wonderful son. 

Silver walked away to take in the sights of the woods nearby, as Lilia sat beside the grave. It had taken more than a hundred years for him and Meleanor to forgive Midnight and obviously, the lad had already passed away by then, being a human. He had left behind descendants who still lived on in Briar Valley, most of them working as assassins for the crown just as Midnight had. Though in this time of peace, they had not much work to do, which in itself was a relief. 

Lilia had beguiled the poor lad with much accusation when he had still been alive. He still remembered the day of the incident. How much he had beat Midnight up. And here he was now, like a fool, visiting Midnight's grave every year as if it would change something. As if Midnight would somehow hear and forgive Lilia for being such a damn fool. 

He got up from the grave, stretching his arms. As he walked away, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, and for a second, he felt as if he saw the figure of a black haired boy with azure eyes, whose visage resembled the very midnight sky [Y/N] had named him after. 

Lilia only smiled as he walked away to his son, a warm feeling in his monotone, hollow heart.

We both loved her just the same, and we were both the same fools for her, eh, Midnight?

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

NOTE: DO NOT REPOST OR PLAGIARIZE MY WORK!

[yandere-daydreams]

Let's be honest here. No one in Twist is going to top Meleanor. She was the cream of the crop, the baddest bitch, and literal royalty. Who the fuck can compete with her!? No one.

(When Chrismas is finally over and things slow down, I'm gonna draw her in a suit. I'm so gay for girls in business suits.)

honestly i am a little bit in love with all the twisted wonderland non-nrc characters. there's just something so unhinged about the game's writing that makes an entire event dedicated to one of the freshmen gathering a rag-tag group of classmates together for an annual sled-race he's being bullied into competing in by his grandmother who also coincidentally is the inspiration for the main character of the chronically online guy's favorite sport's anime feel right at home. sometimes you get jamil's well-adjusted younger sister who's main priority is to guilt his friends into buying her stuff and sometimes you get a horny fourteen year old catholic dead set on botanical genocide y'know.

anyway this was all to say that, if we're talking about hot moms, don't forget to mention deuce's!!! she might not be the vaguely homicidal fae queen, but she is a single mom who works two jobs loves her kids and never stops :) also she's kind of milfy i think.

[hanafubukki]

Silver’s UM & MC Connection/Malleus’ Power and the Blessing by Meleanor

I’m still thinking about the “Have I see you before” line from Silver in the trailer. I talked about this line before and how it made me so curious about him when I first saw it (also the shipper in me screamed)

With the context of book 7, I’m looking at this line with brand new eyes. Especially after the whole MC being cursed/blessed theory

We know that Silver has the ability to travel into anyone’s dreams, even Mickey’s dreams. Which means that he has the ability to travel across worlds/dimensions.

Are you thinking what I’m thinking?

MC comes from a different world, so what if this is what Silver meant? What if he had unknowingly traveled across worlds/dimensions and met MC in their dreams? And he just?? Forgot?? But it happened enough times that he has a vague sense of familiarity with them?

There have been parallels with MC and Silver multiple times but very subtly, such as the camera, ability to use the sword, etc. (more can be seen in the link)

(It also make you wonder if Silver has unknowingly seen the dreams MC has of the great seven)

And with the way MC is spending time with the dream squad, more connections between two is had. Especially when you consider they both have a ‘hero’ role right now. MC and the blots/Silver and saving Malleus and Lilia.

Ray(@moonlightequin1) and Kallisto (@prince-kallisto) talked about death and rebirth, and in this case, it applies as well.

Dreams can be seen as a type of death, and waking up from it a type of rebirth. So in a sense, this cycle of constant, deaths and rebirth keeps happening. Who has been constantly waking and sleeping? In this cycle? Of course it is MC (with their visions) and Silver (with his dreams), and again the connection is there given how Lilia mentions they have such similar states as well.

@chernabogs mentioned how media love to depict souls seperated from the body, so maybe MC body is somewhere else but their soul is in twisted wonderland, but what am I trying to say? Maybe Silver was able to see MC through a mirror or a dream before they isekaied. Or if we go back to timeloop theory, maybe Silver saw them use the sword then through MC visions.

So you’re probably wondering where does Malleus come into the equation? Because we already see the connection with Silver and MC.

As you can see, Meleanor is weaker than Malleus, who is much younger than her. So I can’t help but wonder if that was done on purpose?

I’m already suspicious about Maleficia and her lack of action in the past, but also right now when it comes to stopping her grandson.

What if, she and Crowley (maybe one of them have divination powers as mentioned in the linked posts) had this all planned. I also found it weird how Lilia was suddenly made to leave the school and hence being one of the reasons for Malleus to OB. When this dragon fae hasn’t OB his entire life given how he grew in isolation and people feared him and how that obviously made him feel lonely and ripe for an OB.

What if this was all planned so Malleus would be stronger? And they need him for that very reason, to be strong so they can use him? Or maybe they need that stone from him specifically, maybe something about a stone from him would be special. Maybe as strong as the stone Meleanor had?

Maleficia won’t stop Malleus but that’s why the stage was set for others to stop him, namely because no one would be able to stop Maleficia is she OB but someone could stop Malleus.

Another thought was that, Malleus is the poster boy. What if they made him this strong for a reason? What if their aim was to make Meleanor’s blessing true??

Make Malleus into someone who would be a great benefit to the fae but someone whom the humans would fear (chernabog??)

Make Malleus into a true villain, feared by all, because then Meleanor’s wish became true didn’t it.

(With the help of Crowley and Maleficia, you can’t tell me some part of the queen doesn’t want revenge. Especially when they killed her daughter. We haven’t heard about grandfather either. And Malleus was locked in the castle, Lilia tried to teach him to like humans but Malleus still had a dislike initially before meeting Silver, so where did that come from if not from someone else Malleus knows? His grandmother?)

Hope that made sense, I feel like I was everywhere with this one lol