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The door to the music room was swung open with an energetic bam. The young prince glanced up from the cello he was playing, a small smile warming the golden shimmer of his tired eyes.
“Lilia—“
“Malleus~ It’s been months! Did you miss me, my boy?” Lilia was still in his full armour with his iconic mask, but even so his bright grin was heard, and he asked with a vitality one would think is impossible for a soldier who had so recently returned from battle.
“I’m no child, Lilia.”
“Awww but you did, didn’t you?” Lilia opened his arms, awaiting an embrace.
Malleus put down the cello bow but shook his head slowly. A gesture that Lilia understood. The older fae’s hands dropped to the side of his body, his armour clanging in the process.
“It’s good to see you return safely, Lilia.”
Lilia nodded and bowed slightly, before taking off his mask, choosing not to kneel in front of Malleus like talking to a child, but to keep standing straight instead.
“Malleus, I’m sorry we lost the northern woods.”
Malleus’s lips twitched. Flames flashed in his eyes. He had watched from the castle balcony, when the borderlands were burnt down by crimson, pungent fire of war. It was far, far out of his reach, but he had heard it. He had heard the earth crack, the trees fall, the sky shrouded, the soldiers scream, summoning wind and water to push back the flames. But what’s gone is gone. The land had cried, and so had he, another piece scorched black on his father’s and mother’s beautiful land.
“I saw it happen,” the prince closed his eyes, “And all I did was watch.”
And though there were plenty of words Lilia could think of that were true and just and would tell the child he did no wrong, there was none that the child truly needed, none that the child would believe.
“You know what the northern woods used to be, don’t you, Lilia?”
Of course he did. He had been there before, accompanying the prince.
The then prince.
“Father used to go there. He used to negotiate with the inhabitants about conservation measures due to high magic density in the area and the rich magical resources that could be obtained there,” Malleus said, and then added, “I read that in books.”
He stood up, his height allowing to look at Lilia right in the eyes, “It was one of the last things my father left undone, before he was gone, wasn’t it, Lilia?” He put down the cello by his chair, “I thought I could take over it one day. The woods still had great potential, the woods still had father’s footsteps, I wanted to follow him one day. Like this cello, I wanted to be able to play it without feeling it’s too big for me one day.”
His shoulders scrunched up even though he tried to hide it, “And it’s gone now. They’re gone, again.”
And Lilia wished he had Mallenoa’s strong embrace that could enfold every inch of you, he wished he had Levan’s gentle touch that could seep right into your heart, and he knew he was wearing his cold, hard armour but still he offered the best he could to their child.
“They’re not gone,” he pulled the child close with his left hand and rested his right hand on the child’s head.
Because he understood why this mattered so much to Malleus. He had been there when the woods burnt down. He had felt a fire inside him hotter than whatever the humans had conjured because he had seen the silhouettes of his prince and his princess in those woods as they were warped by the heat of the flames and twisted into nothingness. Because it wasn’t enough killing them once, the war had killed them twice.
But Lilia could gaze up and come back because there was hope here. Because they were here.
“They live in you, Malleus.”
The child said nothing, and only pushed himself further into Lilia’s embrace.
“When you walk, I see him beside you. Every day I find his silhouette in your steps.”
Lilia let go of Malleus, shifting his right hand to the child’s cheek, “And when you smile, I see her in you.” The excitement in the way their eyes shimmered, the innocence in the way their lips curled, to Lilia, it was like she barely left.
Malleus scoffed under his breath, “You’re lying. Father was so much taller, mother was so regal. How could you see them in me?”
“How could I not, my boy?” Lilia laughed, creating a mirror-like surface with magic, “Look at yourself.”
“……” Malleus wiped his eyes and looked, “…it’s just me.”
“Look harder,” Lilia whispered, brushing up Malleus’s bangs that were covering his scales, “They’re right here.”
And perhaps for the first time in his life, Malleus tried to look harder at himself. He never noticed how the curve of his horns or the shimmer of his scales or the colours of his eyes resembled his mother’s. He never noticed how the shape of his face or his wide shoulders or his long legs resembled his father’s. Even if he was still young, one could see without a doubt, he was Malleus Draconia, and he was their child.
“See?” Lilia put his hands on Malleus’s tensed shoulders, “They live in your reflection.”
Malleus pursed his lips, shifting away from Lilia’s hands, “What good does it do? Could I be even half the ruler they were? Could I give all of myself to protect my land and my people like they did?”
Lilia’s smile faded. There were memories that were never written in any history books that he held within his head. What was pride for the kingdom was nightmares for him, what was a loss for the kingdom was a sword stabbing through his heart for the centuries to come until he finally finally joins them. He could not bear another loss, he could not let their son do that.
Lilia dispelled the magical mirror and flung open the curtains covering the music room’s glass walls. They gazed outside at the summer sun showering bright glimmers over the land that was healing, the land that was quiet and still and peaceful now.
“You are still young,” Lilia said to Malleus, but his eyes never left the scenery outside, “And you are already such a fine prince. I know you think that they live in these lands, in every creature and in every star. I know you love this kingdom that they gave every fibre of their magic to protect. I know you want to protect all that they’ve left behind for you.
“But you are not alone, my dear. Every soul that their spirits had touched are one with you in our love for this land,” Lilia took Malleus’s hand in both of his, “Be patient, my prince. There is no mountain too great. There is no limit to your power. May the night bless you.”
Malleus squeezed Lilia’s hands tightly, thinking, breathing, trying to believe that Lilia was right. And he thought about how Lilia had been there when his parents were alive, how Lilia had been their friends, how Lilia had known them and seen them and touched them. He glanced at Lilia kneeling to talk to him, to meet his downcast eyes, and he briefly wondered if this was what his father’s hands would’ve felt like too.
“Thank you, Lilia,” the child smiled in the way Lilia remembered of her, “They live in you as much as they live in me.”