Chapter Text
Teaching had never been Lilia’s strongest suit.
He’d always been a fervent believer in the age-old adage that those who can’t do teach. Teaching was a subtle craft, one that required generous reserves of basic empathy, an infinite amount of mulish patience and a complete and utter lack of personal ambition.
When he was still the castle’s stray bearing the queen’s reluctant favor, he’d come across such tutors, the numbers of which he could count in half the digits of his palm. He recalled their indulgent practices with a flourish of disdain, the way they urged curiosity where perseverance was due and applauded hesitation over grit, feeding the pointy ears of the pampered offsprings of nobility with veiled lies concealed beneath sweet words of praise.
Yet Lilia had thrived under harsher tutelage, the kind that dripped from the sharp cadence of his military instructors’ relentless demands, pouring generously from their creatively cruel punishments. Starvation was but a sculptor’s scalpel meant to mold the clay of his potential. Humiliation was a smith’s whetstone meant to grind the edge of his emotions. Endurance was an artist’s brush meant to paint over every dissonant shade of defiance until he’d become a pliant portrait of a loyal weapon.
He never doubted such approaches. Afterall, in order to carve a lesson into one’s head, first it had to be carved into flesh and in his experience as a pupil, the longer the bruises lingered, the more memorable the lesson became.
As a general, the duty of instructing new recruits often fell on him. He was usually quick to toss it to Baul, his trusted second in command, while he oversaw battle strategies, supply lines and enemy reconnaissance, far too occupied to deign the weakest chains of the link with his precious time. But on the rare occasions he did, he trained them with the same relentless rigor his tutors had demanded from him. For if those methods had pushed him to the pinnacle of hierarchy’s steep pyramid and graced him with highest title one could attain in the army, then they would do the same for this bottomless pool of lost causes.
He’d hone them into the sharpest blades and if they broke along the way, then Lilia would know they were never meant for greatness.
He wondered what that past version of himself would have to say if he saw him now…
“Yes! I did it Lilia!” Malleus shouted triumphantly, flinging his clenched fists into the air victoriously.
“Not quite.”, the fae sighed, ink-coated fingers rubbing soothing circles across his agitated temples, as he repeated the same exact words he’d been trying to convey to his ward for the past half hour, “You were supposed to make it pink.”
Sunlight filtered lazily through the open window in golden ribbons of warmth, carrying with them the hum of a late summer. Symphonies of thrumming cicadas and bickering birds blended along the soft whispers of rustling leaves, as the resinous scent of sap mixed with the heavy fragrance of sun-kissed hay and warmed earth, drifting across the stale air and transforming the insides of the cottage into an extension of the forest, breathing in tandem with the dense clusters of undressed birch trees and clear fields doused in bright shades of yellow.
And even though a remnant of coolness still clung to the shaded walls, defying the oppressive touch of seasonal heat, Lilia might as well have been standing directly below the merciless gaze of the sun at peak noon, judging by the profound and profoundly disgusting way he was sweating.
It had been one of the hottest summers in Briar Valley’s stormy history and coincidentally, one of the calmest periods in the cottage’s stormier record, so much so that Lilia found himself considering aggravating Malleus’s temper on purpose, not enough to call on a tempest, but just enough to coax a cloud or two across the spotless canvas of sky-blue. Of course, he knew better than to test his luck or the house’s flammability that had increased in the dry throes of summer, the surrounding fields of hay promising a terminally catastrophic result, but the idea persisted along with his sweat.
“Blue is better.”, the little dragon argued, crossing his scaly arms in an obvious display of defiance. His lips twisted into his signature pouting expression, the one he always deployed when demanding a third bowl of shaved ice, puffing his cheeks into two outrageously swollen crescents that begged to be squished.
Despite his banishment from the service of the Draconia family, Lilia was quick to comply with his prince’s requests by pinching them just firmly enough to watch the air deflate.
“It also happens the be the only color you can cast.”, he pointed out, shifting his stare back to the center of the living room’s lopsided table where emerald flecks of arcane were still shimmering across the air, catching the light of the sun before melting into the oak’s splintery surface.
The little fledgling standing amidst the shower of sparkling rain flinched away from the fae’s sudden attention, backtracking just enough for its azure wagtail to brush against the young prince’s shirt before realizing it walked straight into the dragon’s jaws and jerking from him as well, burying its head into its feathery chest like a tiny ostrich hiding in plain sight.
Lilia sighed exasperatedly at the candidate’s pathetic state.
He could have gone for a less jumpy specimen.
Unlike beastmen, merfolk or humans, fae were born with magic already stirring through their veins. And Malleus, whose magical lineage was as ancient as it was powerful, had displayed an affinity for the arcane even earlier than that, when he was still curled in the warm clutches of his eggshell. The house had borne witness to the magnitude of his strength more than once with an array of scorched furniture, a string of crisped clothes, a pile of singed toys and a series of blackened walls to serve as testament of this glorious power and as proof that the young mage’s training was long overdue.
Malleus had to learn to tame the raw energy that boiled beneath his skin and guide it through the intricate craft of spellwork, rather than allow it to run rampage and burn everything across its scorching path.
Were he in Blackscale castle as he ought to be, he’d already be flocked by an army of tutors of the highest caliber specialized in every magical domain, from healing herbs, enhancement elixirs, deadly poisons and divination runes to primal spells, sealing wards and fatal curses.
As it was, and given their current situation, all he had was Lilia who had a renowned record of short temper and a shorter reserve of patience as well as an infinite amount of grumpiness that seemed to skyrocket under the suffocating pressure of summer heat and as disappointing as that should have been for the young prince, Malleus faced their lessons with pure enthusiasm.
Between his zeal for magical lessons and Silver’s eagerness for sword training, one would have assumed Lilia was the best tutor in the whole of Twisted Wonderland. The fae knew better. Afterall, he was the one teaching Malleus about illusions, it would be quite embarrassing to fall for one himself.
Not that their ongoing transfiguration lesson was going particularly well. However, the problem didn’t lie in a failed grasp of fundamental theory, nor poorly performed execution, but rather Malleus’s intrinsic refusal to follow orders.
“Let's try a different color.” Lilia prompted, offering the stubborn princeling an alternative to his deal-breaking pink, “If you have a problem with pink then make it green.”
“But it was green to begin with.” Malleus disputed, quirking an infuriatingly incredulous eyebrow as if Lilia had proposed he carve antlers out of a pine tree, put them on, and dance naked below the silver moonlight while serenading the stars.
“Well now it's not so, frankly, it matters little!”, the fae snapped back, his fist dropping onto the crooked surface of the table hard enough to correct its life-long keeling, causing the cornered fledgling to jump before resorting to a cacophonous symphony of helpless chirping, as if its desperate cries for help would manage to summon some sort of divine savior to join its side.
The dissonant sound grazed irritably against the fae’s enhanced eardrums. A part of Lilia, one that was already feeling the beginnings of a headache forming beneath his eyelids, was more than glad to end the lesson here and fling the irksome birdling out the window towards its desired freedom, but he never got the chance to make that choice.
Because for all of Malleus’s failure at the art of transfiguration, the bird in question seemed to possess an apt inclination to summoning magic.
“Good morning.”, the divine savior in the nightshirt said, his voice ringing equal parts drowsy and hoarse, thick with remnants of a good night’s sleep, and both fae snapped their heads towards the source of the unlikely voice only to find Silver in all his disheveled glory descending the stairs.
And even though Lilia had mentioned on many occasions how aggravating the boys’ persistent tendency of mirroring his ways was, whether it concerned the way he dressed, the way he talked or ate or gestured across the air, a habit they found delightfully entertaining, while he thought vastly unsettling, he couldn’t reprimand Malleus for voicing the exact word that came to his mind.
“Shit.”
“What are you doing?”, the human muttered through a groggy yawn, as he reached up to scrub at the crust clinging to his lilac gaze.
His hand fell away to reveal a pair of cheeks flushed and swollen like overripe apples, creased faintly with the soft imprints of deep unbothered slumber, but for all his valiant efforts, judging by the persistent way his eyes kept blinking with the helplessness of a newborn kitten that was trading blindness for the world, his vision had yet to adjust to the living room’s sudden intrusion of light, a stark difference from the murky state of his and Malleus’s joined room where Lilia always made sure to draw the curtains closed, a habit he was immensely grateful for at the moment.
“Nothing.”, the two fae said in a perfect display of synchronization, though not an exact same kind of tune, for Malleus’s voice raised a couple of stressed octaves higher than Lilia’s neutral pitch, melting whatever façade of nonchalance the fae was meaning to preserve.
The little dragon’s horns bit into the older fae’s waist in their scrambling attempt to get to the front of the table as fast as possible, and Lilia felt the impact of their protruding edges -not harsh enough to slice through flesh, but just sharp enough to prickle when touched, let alone when slammed into- wash through his skin in quiet ripples of pain. But despite the persistent twinge of discomfort, he didn’t make the slightest attempt to move away from the makeshift wall their two bodies had rushed to create, concealing the feathery war crime unfolding on top of the currently even surface of the table from the judge’s groggy eyes.
“It doesn't look like nothing.”, the boy mumbled confusedly, tilting his head to the side and along with it the ridiculously looking mess of moonlit strands sticking out on every direction as if they were dandelion seeds clinging to the end of their stem by phantom threads.
Were the fae any less focused on the insurmountable task of preserving peace, he would have already sent the boy back upstairs with a brisk comment about his porcupine hairstyle and a swift demand to comb through those gnarly knots before they started attracting the avian population of the forest looking for a nest, a statement that would have sounded like a caretaker’s exaggerated words of caution to anyone’s ears. Anyone but Lilia’s, who had lived through the unfortunate experience of detangling feathers from the little human’s head more times than he wished to admit.
However, instead of putting to use this perfectly reasonable and undeniably convincing excuse and diverting Silver’s attention long enough to eradicate the condemning evidence currently hammering its beak against his ramrod back like an overzealous woodpecker begging to be squished against the wall -a scenario that was becoming more likely with the span of every pecked second- all the fae was capable of offering was a ridiculously incriminating smile, trading centuries of military expertise steeped in swift stealth, strategic diversions and impeccably delivered lies for the sake of taking a page from Malleus and Silver’s book of suspicious behavior.
A sideways glance to his right helped him confirm that his little accomplice was sporting the exact same mask of forced reassurance he always wore in the face of Lilia’s accusations whenever the fae discovered another crisped set of wool curtains, the shattered fragments of a vase sprawled across the floor or a missing block of ice that was meant to help preserve the food in the cellar from expiring before Malleus had sought to devour it. He looked positively ridiculous.
It was at that moment the fae came to the horrid realization that the mirror his wards had set in front of him was made of dual glass, reflecting images both ways, though judging by the way Silver’s features shifted from mild confusion to narrowed suspicion, Lilia was certain of the distorted result, convinced that his expression must have looked to the boy as uncomfortably foreign and foreignly uncomfortable as it felt against his stiff cheeks.
He barely restrained the urge to plant his face into his palms and groan at the absurdity of full-fledged adult and a decorated general no less, emulating a child’s mannerisms even subconsciously, but instead he leaned further into the expression, brandishing that smile until phantom twinges of numbness where creeping at his assaulted cheeks, his polished fangs catching the harsh streaks of sunlight drifting through the window until Lilia’s face was glowing with more than sweat.
Because if there was one thing he’d learnt in the army after centuries of dealing with stubborn imbeciles in possession of higher ranks and lower brain capacities, was that even when a tactic was set to fail and a plan appeared doomed from the start, once the course of action was decided, one had to support it with his whole heart.
“You're up early today.”, he observed, his voice warping across the edges with the unfamiliarity of coming through a smile, “Are you sure you don't want to go back to sleep?”
“Yeah, if you don’t, you're going to end up sleeping on your plate like last time!” Malleus piped in, scaly hands flying around him in exaggerated gestures, before his face dropped through the air the same exact way Silver’s visage had a week prior, when the boy had surrendered to the tempting tugs of drowsiness that sent his relaxed features plummeting straight into his breakfast.
Breathing through overcooked porridge instead of clear air proved to be quite the successful alarm clock for the sleepy child, more effective than a hundred wailing roosters screaming at the top of their soprano lungs, but then again it could have been the piercing ringing of the two fae’ joined laughter that roused Silver from his morning slumber. When his face was lifted from the muddy swamp of oats, his cheeks had been painted in the distinct shade of overripe tomatoes, the same one he wore now, the absence of small chunks of food sliding from his nose and milky tear tracks dripping down his forehead serving as a small mercy.
“That was one time!”, he defended, small fists curling at his sides at Malleus’s reminder, “I'm wide awake now.”
“That’s what you said last time.”, the little dragon argued, bringing a pensive finger to rest on his chin and Lilia had to swallow back his words about the inefficiency of a child’s diversion tactics, because even though they hadn’t been enough to fool an old fox of his caliber, apparently, they worked wonders against an opponent of the same level, for every trace of suspicion had left the gullible kit’s face, traded for an overflowing wave of pure embarrassment.
And perhaps on another day, when Lilia hadn’t gone against Silver’s explicit requests of leaving his furry friends alone, he would have felt a sliver of guilt at the sight of his poor human’s blushing face and the knowledge he was complicit at the teasing that brought him to that point. However, on this particular day, all the fae was capable of feeling at the sight of Silver’s receding form, heading towards the stairs with his head hung low and his imaginary tail dangling between his legs as if he were a kicked puppy trapped in the body of a child, was this brewing sense of triumph and unadulterated relief.
“F-fine. I’ll go back to sleep…”, the human sized whelp muttered along his shuffling way and as Lilia exchanged a quick look with Malleus, two pairs of slitted eyes met in a dance of glittering victory.
However, luck, as Lilia had come to understand, was a fickle ally, one that never lingered on one side for long, before defecting to the opposition, and so when Silver’s foot landed on the first step of the staircase, the persistent woodpecker chose that exact moment to forsake its drilling craft and release a single traitorous chirp. It rang out with impeccable timing, echoing loud, clear, and catastrophically incriminating, bringing the boy’s movement to an abrupt halt and drawing his head towards the unmistakable source of betrayal.
“It’s not what you think it is.”
“We can explain.”
But their words of defense slid clean past Silver’s round ears, harmless as rain striking the walls of a castle, as the boy stomped across the living room like a brewing tempest, each step echoing with the finality of a clap of thunder against the wooden floorboards as he made his way to the table.
The human always seemed as though he possessed an endlessly massive reserve of patience, large enough to withstand the childish whims of an entitled draconic prince and accommodate the quirks of a thick-headed fae general without once succumbing to anger. Throughout their years together, Lilia could confidently count the instances Silver had fallen victim to such an emotion in the palm of his hands, and even then he’d only seen glimpses of irritation or flashes of unfairness twisting the boy’s features, quick to go out as though doused in water, before their feint sparks caught and turned into something more dangerous.
It was almost disconcerting how quickly the boy was able to extinguish his own flame, so much so, that the former general suspected it might be a racial distinction Humans perhaps were built more temperate, lukewarm to the point of blandness where fae were boiling, their hearts set ablaze. If Malleus was a stubborn thunderstorm tearing through spring wind, then Lilia was a freezing blizzard cutting through winter’s chill and Silver, a half-hearted drizzle coming down the summer sky as if the clear heavens of the warm season were not quite sure they were allowed such tearful theatrics.
And yet now, streaks of silver hair flashed across the room like lightning and the fae was certain that if the boy’s feelings were capable of commanding the weather the same way Malleus’s soul did, the cottage would have already been aflame.
“It seems that the birds had good reason to rouse me.”, he murmured to himself, once he’d reached the crime scene, coaxing the small birdling to climb onto his expecting palms, before leveling the culprits with a pointed glare, an expression as foreign in Silver’s soft face as Lilia’s grin had been amidst his sharp features.
The unsettling sight of their human’s disdain hit both fae harder than any shouted rebuke, although Silver didn’t miss the chance of delivering one.
“I told you to stop using them as test subjects!”, he scolded, cradling the feathery bone of contention carefully in his hands, mindful of his movements even amidst his outburst as if not to jostle the tortured creature that had found salvation amidst its shepherd’s grasp and Lilia was certain that the smug look flashing across the bird’s jet eyes was not part of his imagination, “Yellow is still traumatized from that time Malleus transformed her eggs into snails!”
Lilia recalled the unfortunate incident, because even though he hadn’t been there in person to witness the source of the disagreement, the harrowing echoes of the boys’ first actual fight had haunted the cottage for the duration of an entire week, transforming the peaceful atmosphere of their home into a tense minefield of diplomatic silences, weaponized sulkiness, clipped words and an unprecedented lack of joined playdates. Seeing as though none of the fae’s punishments seemed to do the trick to help the two reconcile, Lilia had briefly considered throwing the kids into the woods with a satchel of provisions, a landform map and an order to not dare return until they’d settled their differences, but thankfully Silver had apologized way before they’d reached such extremes.
Unwilling to relive that nightmare, the fae opened his mouth, planning to calm the boy’s agitated nerves but to his misfortune, Malleus beat him to it.
In the dragon’s flame-addled mind, the line between defense and attack was as blurry as though it’s been carved on water.
“She already had like a dozen of kids why does she need more?!”, he bit back, meeting Silver’s anger with his own share of indignation, his hearth of emotions, permanently doused in extra-flammable oil, igniting similarly to his gaze and Lilia had to yank at the scruff of his shirt before the little dragon had walked straight into Silver’s personal space.
“I don't know Malleus, why do you need more than one bowl of ice?!”, the human retaliated, shoving a frustrated finger against Malleus’s bloated chest, failing to account for the feral prince’s pointy fangs hovering dangerously close.
“Shut up!”
“You shut up!”
In an impressive display of reflexes honed through a lifetime steeped in fighting, Lilia managed to snatch Silver’s collar away before the little gremlin’s jaws had fallen shut, his teeth biting on air instead of the soft and very sliceable flesh of the human’s exposed digit. The fae sighed disappointedly at the stubborn pulls of the rowdy youth thrashing against his steady hold.
Two chicklets thinking themselves roosters, itching to join the cockfight.
He was very much not in the mood of dealing with an amputation.
“Okay, okay!”, the self-appointed mother hen chided, rocking the unruly chicks dangling from his grip until they’d somewhat settled. The harsh jostling was just enough to coax the desired amount of nausea to render clinging to the contents of their stomachs -never mind their stubborn principles of justice- a visible struggle, “Let's take it down a notch before you give me a headache.”
Queasiness aside, Silver’s milky brows were still dipped into a stern frown that made his soft round features pop profoundly, but at least he had the decency to look somewhat apologetic of the ruckus. Malleus on the other hand shared no such feelings of remorse, as he continued leveling the human with a scathing emerald glare befitting his draconic heritage, the type Lilia had been on the receiving end too many times to keep count of, as he proceeded to stick his forged tongue out to the other boy.
“Big and mature dragons don't act like that.”, the fae chastised as he jerked the collar of the insolent prince, forcing him to retract his lime appendage with a disgruntled groan of protest.
“He knows about my tongue!”
“And you know about the eggs.” Silver countered, his voice coming out equal parts soft and scolding, catching Lilia by surprise, a feat only a handful of people had the right to claim.
The young boy rarely raised his voice, but most importantly, he never contradicted Malleus. The two were joined at the hip from the moment they met, as inseparable as bees and flowers, circling each other in a pollen-infused dance that would have made the few strands of night-kissed black still clinging to Maleficia’s weary skull turn a hue of ghastly white.
Malleus possessed an intrinsic dedication to trouble, one that could only be ascribed to the boiling rivers of emerald blood coursing through his veins and Silver, for all his hesitancy, was quick to trail faithfully after the boisterous tempo of the dragon’s steps without so much as a word of protest. Mayhem followed the unruly prince and his loyal knight wherever they sailed, but it seemed that the human was capable of standing against his sworn lord in a trifling act of mutiny when boundaries were crossed.
Lilia felt a mild wave of satisfaction at the thought.
“Regardless of tongues and eggs, I suggest both of you shut up before you say something you’ll regret.”, the fae offered, snapping out of his gawking trance just in time to stop Malleus from professing whatever burning words brewed at the back of his throat before they slipped out in the open and escalated the argument out of proportion.
After a measured stretch of silence, Lilia released the little rascals from his grip, almost entirely confident that they wouldn’t fly at each other’s throat as soon as they were set loose. To his quiet satisfaction, it seemed as though the urge for war appeared temporarily exhausted, and the aftermath of peace found the two sides equally sulky, judging by their rigid stances of crossed arms and averted gazes, but remarkably civil, the crisis averted.
Well, almost averted.
Now, Lilia may have assumed the role of the impartial arbitrator when the integrity of Silver’s fingers had been on the line, but he’d been Malleus accomplice from the start, and as such, he gathered whatever slivers of authority he deluded himself to possess and placed an encouraging hand on the shoulder of the wronged human. A masterfully comforting smile found its way amidst his features, an expression miles away from the previous miserably unconvincing attempt, as the fae let the words slip past his curved lips laced with the saccharine lilt of deception only privy to conniving snakes and old foxes.
“Silver, I know you’re trying to help, but your concern is unnecessary. I'm sure your friends are delighted to aid Malleus in his magical development. Afterall, he is the prince of Briar Valley, hence the ruler of Tenebrous Woods as well.”, he argued, watching the boy’s sullen falter in indecisiveness.
“Wouldn’t it be in everyone’s best interests to have a knowledgeable prince that can use his talents to defend his kingdom?”, he prompted, quirking a questioning eyebrow that let Silver know he was expecting a verbal response.
“Well, yes… But-”
“Were I this bird”, the fae started, restraining his eyes’ desperate urge to roll around their milky confines at the incredulousness of his own statement, but giving in to the itch of discreetly nudging Malleus’s turned back at the distinct sounds of his barely choked laughter. It appeared there were no lengths he wouldn’t go to in order to preserve peace in their tumultuous household, even if that meant having to compare himself with a dim-witted rat with wings. A sigh slipped past his lips before completing the second clause of his hypothetical, “I would think there’s no greater honor than offering a helping... wing.”
“If you put it like that...”, the boy mumbled uncertainly, doubt weaving its tendrils in his meek voice, as his eyes fleeted between the unsuspecting birdling nestling comfortably in the throes of his palms and Lilia’s expectant hand, awaiting its surrender.
In the end, the human chose to put his trust in his guardian, a horrible decision in Lilia’s humble opinion, but one he rushed to seize anyway as he closed his fingers around the boy’s offering caging the helpless animal that begun squealing like a pig meant for slaughter as soon as it’d realized its situation between his claws.
“He’s going to be okay, right?”, the boy asked hesitantly, tilting his head to take a glimpse his feathery friend trapped in Lilia’s lax grip. Guilt folded his soft features inward, as though he’d just betrayed crown and country instead of mildly inconvenienced bird, a sentiment the boy indulged a little too frequently.
“Sure he will.”, the fae reassured, quick to dismiss him, but before he’d turned back to the table, a small fist had curled its way on his sleeve tugging him downward.
“Fae promise?”, the boy asked, extending a persistent finger towards Lilia, auroral eyes meeting his own scarlet orbs with stubborn resolution. The fae studied him for a moment, gaze traveling from his pursed lips to his ramrod straight shoulders and his unshakeable stance until he was certain Silver wouldn’t relent until he had his word.
“Fine.”, he sighed defeatedly, before accepting the offered digit, engulfing it around his own as his magic stirred, washing over their hands in a shimmering wave of fuchsia sparkles that stirred Malleus’s interest enough to break his spell of stillness and offer a vowel of fascination. The arcane manifestation of nocturnal magic melted away as the promise was sealed to Silver’s quiet satisfaction.
Lilia was beginning to lose count of how many sacred oaths had been wasted on his wards’ whims, but if swearing upon ancient powers kept the house from going up in flames or the heir’s curriculum’s on schedule then the fae would gladly sacrifice twice as many for the sake of his peace.
“Now go have some breakfast. I made eggs.”
The reaction was immediate as both boys winced at his words in a unsettling display of synchronization that felt almost rehearsed, a sheen of horror flashing over pairs of emerald and lilac irises alike, and even though Malleus hadn’t appeared one bit apologetic before, now his expression was dripping with understanding, facing Silver with a look of camaraderie Lilia had only seen among dying soldiers.
Silver gulped forlornly, portraying such grief one would have thought he was heading to the gallows instead of the kitchen and when he finally summed up the courage to face the fae, every trace of determination had been wiped from his gaze and all was left was a lingering sense of regret, as he braced himself to talk.
“Whose eggs?”
“For the Thorn Fairy's sake, I got them from the village!” Lilia barked, feeling thoroughly cornered at the children’s united revulsion and the implicated accusation of his uncommitted culinary crimes! And even though his declaration did seem to dull the sharp edges of abject terror marring the boy’s face, suspicion lingered beneath that skeptical eyebrow crease, coaxing an intense feeling of vexation to snake its vines below his temples.
“Now go eat something before I make you a nice plate of roasted feathers!”, he warned, the hurled threat echoing empty in the aftermath of the fae’s oath even to his own ears, but the boy didn’t argue further. When Silver came back from the kitchen, Lilia opted against commenting on his breakfast choice; a bright red apple flushed and ripe in its distastefulness, no doubt donated by some meddlesome representative of the forest intent on undermining his authority. The boiled eggs he’d prepared remained at the counter where he’d placed them, untouched, abandoned and deeply offended.
“I’m still mad.” Malleus provided, mirroring once again Lilia’s exact thoughts.
“Shocking news.”, the fae exclaimed half-heartedly, voice dropping theatrically, thick with unadulterated sarcasm, coaxing a curious quirk of the human’s brow and an affirmative nod from the fae’s head, whose understanding of satire still eluded him, “Do you think you’ll be able to put your ire aside to perform one last attempt at the spell?”
For once, fate felt kind enough to give him a break, as the child continued to nod.
“Good. Now, focus on the image in your mind and then let your magic surge forth gently.”, he instructed, enunciating the last part for good measure, his words deliberately slow, unhindered by Silver’s unnecessarily loud and entirely distracting chewing sounds, “Picture green.”
To his credit, Malleus did seem to ponder Lilia’s words, his brows knitting together in concentration, eyes scrunching shut as he reached inward toward the restless current of magic pooling beneath his skin, palms raised to guide it into shape, as though conducting an invisible orchestra of arcane forces, his stance acting as a vessel between his endless reserves of power and the world.
The test subject was promptly dropped onto the center of the table at the end of the young fae’s raised palms, with the grace one would treat a discarded toy rather than a living being, Lilia’s abrupt movements earning twin glares of disapproval from both the feathery victim and the victim’s human advocate to which the fae answered with an exaggerated eye roll. He’d promised to protect the physical integrity of the fledgling. That hardly ruled out a little jostling.
They all waited patiently until the young mage in training was fully prepared with nothing but the obnoxious sound of blunt teeth sinking into apple flesh chipping at the religiously silent atmosphere of the house. A wave of pride brought the fae’s chest to a swelling point at the sight of Malleus regulating his breathing the exact same way Lilia had displayed earlier, as a series of deep inhales and a deeper exhales left the little dragon’s naturally dark lips, before the movements of his mouth changed, shifting to the shapes of a whispered incantation.
For a prolonged moment nothing happened, and even the little bird peered at its own blue wings curiously, as though trying to spot any changes. But soon enough, Malleus’s fingertips lit with ancient traces of arcane and then followed his palms, doused in emerald snowflakes that shimmered bright enough to eclipse the light of the sun in all his noon glory. As more magic accumulated in Malleus’s black gradient hands, a viridian whisps began to form, first wild and uncoordinated and then orderly, forming a singular beam of green luster that landed squarely on the desired target.
All three figures leaned over the table trying to catch a glimpse of the struck fledgling with various amounts of concern. The first thing Lilia noticed when Malleus’s drizzle of emerald specks had settled was a persistent array of blue feathers. The second was the convulsing movements of the animal’s small body, jerking violently as though its heart was trying to leave its body.
“What the hell did you do?” Lilia hissed, snapping his head towards a very confused and slightly indignant dragon.
“I did what you said! I pictured gills.”
“I said green, not gills.”, he retorted incredulously, bringing a restless hand to tug at his hair strands frustratedly, “Why would I say gills?!”, he continued, earning a non-committal shrug from the dragon’s shoulders and a wheezing plead from the bird.
“Malleus fix it, he’s dying!” Silver yelled, shaking the nonchalant fae until his sense of urgency had been conveyed.
“Okay!”
Another beam of emerald light shot from Malleus’s raised palms, less coordinated and more crooked than the previous one, fracturing along its path like a splintered arrow, not enough to divert from its target but enough to cause the hair at Lilia’s nape to stand in military attention.
Once again, the drizzle of magic fell like a curtain to reveal the singular member of the troupe standing solidly in the center of the round stage stretching across the surface of the table. The lead character’s wings had reverted to their original shade that matched the leafy palette of the forest’s vegetation, and its lungs had resumed their previous functions, pumping air across the body of the healthy animal.
And then the fae’s eyes trailed lower where the long plume of its slim wagtail used to be. That, apparently, was when Malleus registered the anomaly as well, as Lilia’s pupil dissolved in a fit of pure unadulterated laughter.
“Lilia always says that birds are the rats of the sky.”, the young fae managed between breathless chuckles, his chest trembling the same violent way the small animal’s did mere moments ago, although judging by the unfiltered delighted sounds slipping past the dragon’s throat, Malleus’s condition was less fatal.
“Malleus!” Silver reprimanded glaring at the young fae -that was one step away from doubling over himself, a reaction that appeared quite infectious to the older equally entertained fae- with the ferocity of an angered bunny.
“Okay, I’m fixing it!”, he conceded, granting himself one final moment of amusement before bringing up his hands and shooting an arcane ray at the pink rat tail coiling around the deeply insulted bird.
When the green fog of magic abated, the three pairs of eyes met a thousand, catching the drifting sunlight in their sapphire and emerald throes, unfurling over a shimmering wall of iridescent plumes. The bird stirred pridefully, brandishing its small peacock tail with the extravagancy of a royal.
“That’s not that bad.” Malleus mumbled, tilting his head to examine the bejeweled appendage that fluttered gracefully behind the pleased fledgling. For one, the test subject seemed content with the young fae’s lapse of magical control, although the same could not be said for its human advocate.
“No.” Silver protested, earning a collective groan from every occupant of the room -both the fleshy and feathery ones-, before Malleus was once again summoning his powers.
However, this time, when the surge of arcane energy darted from the fae’s poised palms in a fractured line of emerald green, the unstable particles of magic ruptured and formed parallel vines that cracked across the stale summer air like rivers of lightning. The light hit the surface of the table and then burst across the room as though redirected by its deflective surface and Lilia barely managed to yank Malleus away from the bolt’s crooked path before he’d been struck square in the chest.
The general’s instincts took over immediately folding over him like a shadow, as Lilia’s vision tunneled, turning the world into a pale fog until only two points of gravity remained in its center; the princes he’d sworn to protect.
He’d just pushed the little dragon fae beneath the table, before his fingers coiled around Silver’s wrist, claws digging at the soft flesh of the human, not deeply enough to break skin, but firmly enough for the wild thrumming of his pulse to drum against the fae’s hold and ease his agitated nerves with its presence. But just as Lilia was beginning to pull the child away, a rogue beam of magic slammed straight into Silver with a strength that tore him from his guardian’s grip and hurled him across the room as though he weighted nothing.
Content upon finding a target, the arcane storm raging war within the house fizzled out in an instant leaving behind no trace of its existence, nothing but the echo of a half-bitten apple dropping onto the floor with condemning clarity.
“Shit.” Lilia hissed, as he scrambled towards Silver’s fallen form, pushing aside every piece of furniture that had the audacity to obstruct his path, before crumbling at his human’s side, hands hovering uselessly over his still frame.
“Silver, are you okay? Does it hurt?! Can you…” was all he managed before his voice trailed.
On a subconscious level of spatial awareness, he noted the pattering beat of hurried steps and the familiar pressure of a weight settling next to him as Malleus joined them, but his focus remained entirely on Silver who had propped himself on his elbows and was currently rubbing soothing circles across his skull, scrunching his eyes at the invasion of sunlight drifting through the window as though he’d only just woken up.
“What happened?”, he asked, his voice tilting with the groggy lilt of fatigue, before his eyes fluttered open, the crooked sight of the distorted lilac lakes coaxing a choking sound out of Malleus’s lips, one Lilia would mirror had his throat not suddenly turned dry as a desert.
The fae opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out of his lips as both mind and tongue failed him and he continued to gape at the unfolding scene. However, it appeared that not all occupants of the room had grown mute, judging by the horrified chirping sound that echoed somewhere behind him, before Lilia caught the reflection of the bird in its peacock dress scramming through the window through his peripheral vision.
“Why are you looking at me like I’ve grown antlers?” Silver queried, quirking a curious eyebrow at the stunned audience of two, and even though his words were meant as an exaggeration, another habit he’d picked from his guardian, they weren’t far from the truth, because he may not have grown antlers, but he might as well have.
“You look funny.” Malleus muttered, sounding unsure of himself.
“Funny, how?”
A beat of silence passed and then a second and a third, all finding the two fae blinking incredulously, as though their minds struggled to make sense of what their eyes were seeing, but somewhere along the fourth moment of silence, Malleus regained his ability to speak just enough to deliver another hesitant statement.
“You look like us.”
Lilia frowned at the explanation, because it wasn’t quite right, but it wasn’t entirely wrong, yet his lips remained deathly still, unwilling to contribute to the conversation even when Silver’s head snapped towards him looking for confirmation. A mirror was passed among the children, one of the toys Lilia had gotten from the village, before the boy came face to face with his reflection.
“Oh.”
Once again, one of his wards had supplied a pithy vocalization of his own thoughts, because there were no further words needed to describe this twisted version of Silver as it appeared right now.
Ears peered between disheveled strands, but instead of following the downward curve they usually complied with, their pale skin stretched tautly, reaching over the lobe to form sharp ends in the shape of leaves. The boy’s hand reached absently at the unfamiliar pointy tips with an unreadable expression, his lips parting to reveal a pair of protruding fangs that glittered brightly under the touch of the summer sun, before his gaze strayed from the sight of his reflection and turned to his audience instead. And if Lilia had once found the emotions stirring within the glazed expanses of Silver’s auroral orbs indecipherable, now with his round pupils thinned into slits of black, he looked like a complete stranger.
“It doesn’t look bad.”, the little dragon offered uncertainly, as though he hadn’t quite decided himself, and Lilia sprang into action in an instant, taking the decision in his stead.
“Stand back Malleus.”
“No! Wait!” Silver yelled, dropping the small mirror as he scrambled to his feet, his body falling into a defensive stance Lilia had taught him during their sword fighting lessons. And even though his eyes remained stony, as though nothing could ripple through their eternal surface, his face told a different story, one carved out of knitted eyebrows and twisted lips, an expression doused in so much panic one would have thought the fuchsia tendrils of arcane weaving around Lilia’s fingers were threatening to end his life rather than that of the spell.
“What if we didn't reverse it?”
“What?”
“Can I keep them? Just for the day…”, he faltered, his voice dropping with a pleading edge the fae despised. Unlike Silver’s impassive gaze, Lilia’s displeasure must have shown in his eyes, because the boy rushed to school his desperation into something way less pathetic yet no less firm, seizing the fae with a stern frown and a sound argument, “You said you needed to get some things from the fae village. This way we can all go together and you don't have to carry everything on your own.”
“I can float whatever I can’t carry.”
The words stunted the boy momentarily, his slitted eyes darting between the flushed flecks of magic that had yet to dissipate from the fae’s poised palms and the garnet stubborn gaze hanging over them, before he shook of the excess nervousness from his tense shoulders and faced Lilia with the solemnity of a soldier pleasing his case to a general.
“Then I can look after Malleus while you're shopping. No one will bat an eye if I look like this. I know you don't like leaving him alone here.”
To Lilia’s immense disgruntlement, Silver’s case was convincing.
He’d been meaning to visit the nearest fae village for weeks, but the thought of leaving his wards behind had postponed such activities until their shelves had run out of elixirs and herbs entirely. Lilia didn’t know how long he’d be able to ward of headaches before the last batch of sleeping draughts ran out, a brew he may have frowned upon on the age of his youth, but one he’d grown to rely on -perhaps a bit too much- during the tumultuous age of parenthood.
Plus, with Malleus’s education setting sails -confidently albeit slowly-, he’d been planning to introduce the young prince into the fundamentals of the intricate art of potionology and the ancient study of runes, both of which would require the purchase of new materials he couldn’t hope to find in the human village.
It wasn’t as though he’d never left the children alone before, but at this point, he’d delayed the visit so much, he’d need hours just to retrieve enough objects to restock, much less figure out what items were appropriate for a young fae’s education.
The disguise would allow Silver to follow alone and supervise Malleus while Lilia got every item on their shopping list. All in all, it was a win-win situation for everyone but the fae’s conscience who screamed at him to finish the incantation brewing at the back of his throat.
“Fine.”, he said instead, lowering his arms, “Go get dressed.”
And as the boy flied to the stairs, climbing the steps two at a time, as he rushed to change out of his nightshirt and into proper clothes, there was only one thought coursing through Lilia’s mind, one Malleus seemed to share.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
And if the prince of trouble himself recognized the folly of their plan before it’d even been set in motion, then one thing was certain.
He was definitely going to regret this.