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Malleus finds him in a cabin buried deep in the woods. There’s no footsteps in the snow and nests lay undisturbed in the divots of the logs. When he gets closer, he can smell the asbestos in the wood and knows the house has remained untouched for quite some time. It looks unassuming and dilapidated, something he’s sure was intentional.
Woodland animals sniff and peck at the wood, unsure of it. A few pace around the length of the cabin, rubbing their pelts and spikes and scales as they do. He ponders this.
Are you trying to get in or ward others away?
They startle as he approaches, but do not immediately turn and flee like he expects them to. Instead, they look back at the cabin, some whimpering while he drifts closer, seemingly torn between drawing closer or running away. A deer snuffs at the door, the creature not sparing Malleus the terror he was so used to. He pushes its black nose away and soothes the door open with a quiet spell. The door catches on the rust but remains silent. His footfalls remain light as he steps in, closing the door behind him before the animals can creep in.
The inside was quite spacious considering the deceptively small exterior. Dust gathers under his feet and upon his horns and shoulders. If he were a man, he imagines that his eyes would water and start to cough. The windows are shaded with tarps and the only light comes from a candle in the middle of the room. Next to it is a hunched-over figure, rocking back and forth silently. It doesn’t react to Malleus’ approaching gait.
He stops just behind the figure. “Hello, general.”
Lilia Vanrouge does not turn, but he hums, “Your Highness.” He shifts off his heels and crosses his legs, still hunched over.
“I do believe you are not supposed to be here,” he states, not moving an inch. His chin is dipped just enough to look at the fae down the length of his nose. They became more formal with each other as he grew, and he presumes the general would not appreciate him lowering his head, no matter the instance.
He should have returned to Briar Valley days ago. The prince had not realized his absence until he visited his quarters to find his bed still made and armor gone. When asked, those who slept close to his quarters only said, “This is just what the general likes to pull.” He had to pull strings to look for his old friend, his concern for the older fae winning out his responsibilities.
Vanrouge hums again, swaying side to side, his red-streaked hair thumping against his back. Malleus now notices how unkempt it is, some locks falling from the tie to frame the older fae’s face and ears. His armor looks creased and scraped
“You do not look well,” he says. His state of disorder puzzles him.
He shakes his head. “No,” he whispers. He turns his head, a soft grin splitting his dirt-creased face. “I have never felt better.”
Malleus looks past the fae’s dirty face and to his hands resting in his lap. When he sees it, his confusion only doubles.
“Lilia,” he says, “you have a human.”
In the general’s arms lay an infant. He’s swaddled in old fabric and bundled close to Lilia’s chest, cheek pressed against his chest plate. His skin is fair, and his white eyelashes brush against his cheeks while in slumber. And, most notably, his ears are round.
“I do,” Lilia breathes, smiling down at the baby resting in his lap. “Isn’t he beautiful?”
Rounding around to get a better look, Malleus stares at the boy as Lilia starts to rock him again, humming a lullaby under his breath. Malleus doesn’t know it and doesn’t care at this moment.
“Where did you… procure him?” he asks, unable to fully grasp the sight before him: General Vanrouge smiling down adoringly at a human baby, a frail one at that. Where was the bloodthirsty general that scowled at any thought of human relations? When Lilia glances up, the smile is so achingly familiar that he has to suck in a breath.
“That doesn’t matter, does it?” he asks dreamily. “He’s safe now.”
“Surely the humans are looking for him,” he argues. “What of his parents? Do they know you have him?”
Lilia takes a moment to respond, but his carefree smile is washed away with the prince’s words, and he frowns down at the human.
“I found him alone,” he says, his voice just shy of a whisper. “He only had this blanket on him, and there were no tracks to determine who left him there. He was shrieking from the cold and had frostbite on his nose.” He strokes a finger down the boy’s nose, now free of any ailment.
Malleus breathes a sigh of relief. Despite his reputation, even Lilia couldn’t find it in himself to eliminate a helpless creature. This was only a moment of weakness, and luckily he was the only one to witness it. He owes the fae so many favors, the least he can do is make sure his credibility isn’t damaged.
Slowly, he nods. “Where would you like to leave him?”
General Vanrouge gives him a curious glance. “‘Leave him’?”
“Yes,” he confirms. “Perhaps we can find an infertile couple to leave him with. Or, if you wish, we can leave him in the next town’s orphanage. He’ll be taken care of there.”
Lilia stares up at him, jaw unhinged and teeth gleaming in the candlelight. Then: “No.”
His eyebrow rose. Admittedly, he is not used to being denied his whims, but he found Lilia’s odd. It is not for his benefit he is asking.
“No?” he repeats.
“He will live here,” he states. “With me.”
Malleus stares at him, willing the fae to snicker and reveal this to be a prank to get on his prince’s nerves. When none came, he shook his head.
“He is human,” he says.
“Yes, I know.” Lilia nods. “His ears are funny-looking, aren’t they?”
“That is not what I’m saying, Lilia. You cannot raise a human like you raise a fae.”
The general hums in agreement. “The village you mentioned has a reliable shop market. I considered hunting and teaching him to hunt, but the animals like him so much I can’t bring myself to do it.” Scratching came from the door to prove his point.
“You cannot provide for this child. One day he will be older than his father; how will you explain that?”
“He will know,” Lilia tells him. “When he is old enough, he will know.”
Malleus cannot help but think that this is absurd. When will the child be “old enough” to know the truth of his origin?
He can see the light mood start to melt off Lilia’s shoulders. Perhaps he should not push forward, but he cannot in good faith let the fae—who aided him so many times—throw away his life for one so insignificant.
“You cannot take care of him with your lifestyle,” he points out. “You will be out of his life for weeks in a row, on missions you may never return from.”
“I will teach him how to provide for himself,” he dismisses, brushing white hair away from the human’s face. “No son of mine will be helpless.”
“And what of his life?” he steps closer, now hovering directly over the pair. “If he is to become your son, will you be able to handle him dying before you?”
His jaw clenched. “Yes—”
“And if he’s not much bigger than this?” he asks, gesturing to the sleeping boy. “Humans are so incredibly unpredictable, what if he dies before he could learn to—”
“He will live long,” he snaps, red eyes finally looking like those of a killer. “I will make sure of it.”
Malleus… is not quite taken aback by the change of demeanor, but his magic thumps with surprise. Lilia’s teeth are bared like an animal and his weight has shifted to his knees, ready to lunge like Malleus was a threat.
But that is not what draws the prince’s eyes. It’s the fae’s hands, gently clutching the human boy to his chest. While the grip around the boy’s body is soft, he’s drawn into a tight, vice grip and shielded with armored arms.
Even through his anger, the first thing that Lilia made sure of was that the boy was safe. Not only that, he had ensured that the baby was comfortable. Like this, for one moment, General Vanrouge looks like a tamed beast.
Malleus does nothing to defend or lash out against the fae who, in name, is below him. If Lilia were to only strike him across the face, it was enough for a prince to cast him out of his position. And he’d be in his right to eradicate Lilia where he sits, and the only consequence would be finding a replacement.
But that isn’t what he wants. Not when Lilia is the only one to be truly compassionate with him. So he does not raise a hand.
Lilia seems to catch himself and softens his face. He readjusts once again so the boy can lean comfortably in his lap once again. Despite the rapid movement, he still hasn’t awoken.
“I assure you,” he whispers, looking down at the human once again, “I will not let him be hurt. Not when I can control it.”
Malleus grips the sleeves of his robes. “But you cannot control everything.”
“No,” he agrees, “but at least life will be interesting, yes?” He tries for a smile, but it looks too unstable to be real.
Malleus shakes his head—gently this time—and holds the general’s gaze. “Lilia,” he pleads, “he could ruin… us.”
He blinks up at the prince, curious and confused, before he realizes what Malleus means. A smug grin breaks out on his face. “Could it be that the crown prince of Briar Valley is scared of a human boy?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what—”
“Oh, Malleus,” Lilia coos, “there’s no reason to be scared. Come.” He pats the space next to him invitingly. He fights it at first, but Malleus at last submits himself and kneels on the floor.
I can see why you were afraid,” the red-haired fae allows. “It is unnerving to witness something so cute.”
Malleus sighs in dismay. He allows himself to do as told and watch the boy sleep. It’s hard to see his chest rise and fall through the puffy blanket, but he’s comforted by the sound of his breathing. His face twitches humorously and Malleus rubs his mouth to remove the smile.
Time passes by the two fae and the sun is tipping down the landscape. When the cabin is almost completely dark, Malleus frowns. “He’s still…”
“Sleeping,” Lilia finishes with a nod. “I know that human children need a lot of sleep, but this seems unnatural. When we are settled, I will look into it.”
Malleus nods. He holds out a hand to touch the boy’s face but pauses just before the pad of his finger makes contact.
“Is everything alright?” Lilia asks, tilting his head.
He swallows hard. “I’m not sure… I’m willing to watch him grow to fear me.”
Both of them hold their breath, waiting for the other to say something. He’s about to pull away when Lilia pushes the human forward. “Then it’s good for him to meet you now. Children do not know the difference between ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ Let him see who you are without power.”
Malleus clenches his fist for a moment. Odd enough, a knot is forming in the back of his throat at the thought of this boy growing unafraid of him. It… thrilled him. How terrifying.
He does not glance back at Lilia. He still has his honor.
He finally dares to hold out his hand again, slowly inching his finger forward. When their skin connects, he realizes how paranoid he was acting and fully cups the boy’s cheek. With his thumb, he carefully caresses the closed eyelid. And when he pulls away, he comes face-to-face with deep blue eyes.
Lilia gasps softly and pulls the boy closer. “Look at that,” he mumbles wondrously. “You’ve been asleep all day, and now you wake.”
He gives Malleus a soft smile. “Guess all he needed was Big Brother Malleus to come wake him up.”
Malleus cannot think of a response to such an emotional statement, so he doesn't.
He watches as Lilia brings the human close to his face and greets him brightly. The boy blinks up at him curiously before grabbing onto the older fae’s nose. The great General Vanrouge giggles and grabs a tiny hand to squeeze, and Malleus knows that the boy is staying. Because Lilia gets what he wants.
Malleus sighs. The next few weeks were going to be a pain. Still, he reaches for the boy once more to play with his hair. “What will you name him?” he asks. “Unless he already has one.”
Lilia hums and takes a few minutes to think. The boy doesn’t fuss as multiple hands brush his face and arms that had slipped out. Instead, he meets both of their eyes with a surprisingly mature gaze. His biggest reaction was a slight pout when Malleus’ nails nearly scraped his cheek.
Finally, Lilia says, “He has beautiful hair, doesn’t he? Silver.”
The prince watches his general’s face. “Silver, then.”
Lilia nods. “It’s perfect.”