Dusk and Dawn
There was something there, something foul and black. What was it? Lilia tilted his head, digging a nail into the scar tissue, pausing just before it broke skin. It’d be best if he waited until the other adults had left. He could dig it out and examine it later.
The boy had gone deathly still, each muscle tense and waiting. Why though? For what? It wasn’t fear, not of Lilia, but perhaps of something else. The boy’s breaths came slow and shallow and Lilia watched as his eyes darted from person to person.
“I need to speak to my supervisors-” the half-Fae frantically typed away at his phone.
“Where am I?” The boy’s voice cracked, sharp and breathless. Lilia hummed quietly. It’d taken a while for the kid to start questioning things.
Nobody answered the child, too consumed in their own panic and worries. All except Lilia. He floated high above them all, watching silently. He could feel magic building in the air, thick and hot like syrup. It boiled and simmered in a haze around the boy, building heavier with each second.
Lilia’s feet touched the floor, his brow furrowing and a frown tugging at him. It reminded him of Malleus in a way, but not completely. The power was there, but Malleus was much more open with his temper. His magic tended toward grand displays of ice and occasionally fire. He affected his surroundings.
His newest son’s magic was just as thick, just as hot, as Malleus’ but it layered itself around him like a cocoon or a shield. Defensive rather than offensive. It focused itself around the boy, flowing from beneath his skin like it was trying to protect him from something.
What was wrong? Was it the noise? The panic? How was he to calm the boy down without detonating that sphere of magic? Would he even be able to get close?
Lilia took a cautious step forward. There was no telling how the magic would react to him, whether it was based on his son’s emotions or the intent of those around him. If the boy was too consumed by his emotions it could respond to any stimuli, friendly or otherwise. It could explode outward in a concussive blast or even an incendiary response, given how hot the air around him had grown.
It was on reflex that Lilia wrapped a layer of magic around his phone, protecting it from whatever was about to happen if he couldn’t defuse the child. The thing had gotten fried entirely too many times from Malleus’ temper tantrums.
He needed to get close. Close enough to touch the boy and hopefully calm him. Magic was a dangerous thing for children. He doubted the boy had a magestone on him to counteract blot. He had at least five on him that he could use if it came down to it, but he’d much rather halt the incoming disaster.
“Officers, escort Sir Vanrouge out-”
That damn half-Fae was really taunting death. Lilia’s teeth clashed against each other as he tried bullying his way closer to the boy. The air pushed against him, sizzling against his skin like sparking electricity. It didn’t hurt, but damn did it not want him getting any closer.
He ignored the guards and perhaps that was where he went wrong. The moment they moved towards him, the magic convulsed. Abruptly, the defensive shield grew fangs and claws, gripping and ripping like a chainsaw. A cold snap whipped against him, blowing past him, grabbing hold of the guards, and slamming them against the wall. They hit the plaster with enough force to crack it and then the magic filled the room.
Holy shit.
Okay then, fuck.
Lilia blinked rapidly, chest thrumming as the child’s magic came down on the room. The boy slumped in his bed, skin growing even paler. The windows rattle in their frames, glass cracking. The walls shook under the force.
And Lilia stared.
Power.
Raw power rippled from the child. That itty-bitty child, so small, so weak, so vulnerable, bled power. Power he didn’t know how to control. Malleus had always known he was powerful, had always been taught and lectured about his power and the responsibility that came with it.
This child hadn’t, and it showed.
A ripple of burning ember-colored magic, spectral and insubstantial, blew through the equipment leaving them dead and silent. That magic burned like the fledgling sparks of a bonfire, deprived of oxygen. It was wrong of him to think it, but he wanted to fan those flames into life. His son would be powerful if he was given the time and space and tutelage needed to grow. He was so afraid though and it ripped into Lilia to see. Fear, downright terror, stewed in that child’s heart. It was the wood the fire of his anger used for fuel.
Red light fell across the room as every electronic fell beneath the wave, leaving a little boy shivering in his bed. Such a small child, yet so powerful. He’d need to protect him fiercely. There was nothing more coveted in Twisted Wonderland than power.
Magic, political, financial. Power ruled them all. He’d need to protect him like a dragon. He’d be coveted, praised, trained, and hoarded. He hoped he got along well with Malleus, it’d do his eldest well to have an equal.
He ignored the snap-crackle-pop of the guards lighting their batons, floating up again. The human and mer were of no concern to him. The boy was more important. The mer bared serrated teeth. A shark then. Interesting, but still no more of a concern.
The boy didn’t look away from them though, eyes black pits. A shaking rattle, threatening and high, whined from the boy’s throat. His shoulders rose to his ears and his magic shivered like a snake’s rattle. The air warmed again as his son hissed, frost crawling up the walls in a manner much more similar to Malleus’ episodes. Malleus did it when he was upset, not necessarily angry. But this boy, this dear, dear, boy was so afraid.
Beneath that sphere of anger and vengeance, the boy’s magic screamed and thrashed and cried. It sobbed with the emotions the boy hid beneath his anger. Lilia’s heart twisted viciously in his chest with the near need to wash away that fear. It wasn’t right for someone so obviously powerful to ever be that afraid. It wasn’t right for a child of his to feel fear so strongly.
“Mr. Vanrouge isn’t leaving,” the boy said like he was used to being listened to. Like he was used to commanding others. Not surprising what with his power and all. It was still something to note and investigate at a later time. It’d be ironic if he kidnapped another prince and a bit concerning. He’d be three for three then.
“He must .” The half-Fae cast a fearful look at him and Lilia embraced the thrill of his fear. Let him be afraid. He was right to be, now more than ever. Lilia hadn’t been planning on giving the boy up but now? With the power he’d shown? The Valley had gained a powerful child and they needed all they could get.
Lilia could see the reverence and fear in the half-Fae’s eyes, the covetous greed and need to own. Too bad the kid was his.
“ No,” and there was that tone again. The boy’s voice hardened, staunch and resolute, expecting to be obeyed. He was uncompromising.
He’d be a good general. He’d prefer if none of his children were forced into such professions, but that was unrealistic. Silver was already a retainer-in-training, as was Sebek, and Malleus was set to be king in a millennia or so. War was inevitable for his boys, even if he hoped they’d never have to deal with it. None of them were made for it. Trained for it, but not made for it. They were all too soft, too kind, and he didn’t want to see that kindness die.
This son though. This son had already killed that kindness, had already bloodied his hands. He could stand against others in a comparatively higher position than him and remain unperturbed. He was intelligent but not necessarily arrogant. It really was too bad Malleus had already chosen his right and left hands.
Though perhaps not.
Lilia observed the stubborn tilt of the boy’s head, the fire burning in his eyes. Submission didn’t come to this one easily. He doubted this boy would bow to anyone. Perhaps not even death. That boded well for him. Lilia hoped the boy kept that stubbornness, it’d been what kept Lilia alive long enough to meet Revan and Maleanor.
“It’s the law,” the man pleaded.
Lilia could see him break, see him submit to the boy. A smile curved his lips, small and dark and greedy and so very satisfied. There was a certain prideful swelling in his chest as his son enforced his will on another living being.
“ I don’t care. ” He was cold, frigid like the frost on the walls. Unlike Malleus, this son’s anger was a fleeting thing, cooling into thoughtless apathy after the initial burst. He was trying to keep his fire, Lilia could see. He was failing though and that was something Lilia could help train. Keeping ahold of passion was useful for a mage. Learning how to straddle the boundaries between emotion-fueled power and overblot was a dangerous game but one he’d played many times in his life. That coldness could be used to kill hesitation in battle. Another thing he could help train.
“Why would I care about this country’s laws? I’m not even from here, so why does it even matter? That law is stupid anyway! What, do you treat every non-human person like this, or is it because he’s Fae ?”
Lilia blinked back into the conversation, missing a good bit but not caring. It didn’t matter overmuch. How curious. A being that didn’t care for the separation between species. How adorable.
Childish, but adorable.
Ironic too, given the man’s species. Not that any Fae would consider him one of them, not with how he’d betrayed them for another country and forsaken their Queen. No doubt the fool would end up dead if he ever ended up near the Valley. A shame Lilia couldn’t do away with him himself, but alas, it’d cause too much suspicion.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re a citizen or not, as an unclaimed child you are vulnerable to the Fae. We are trying to protect you.”
Bad thing to say to a child who so clearly had no desire or intention to be protected. It was a normal human thing to say and, obviously, not one the child took favor to. The boy made a disgusted face, looking the half-Fae up and down like he was trying to find this so-called “protection”.
“I don’t need or want your protection.”
Lilia giggled quietly at the are-you-fucking- stupid tone the boy used. The half-Fae looked up at him, his face paling like he’d forgotten Lilia was there. Lilia, for his part, crossed his legs under him and gave the man a small finger wave, fully intending to fuck with him.
“Sir Vanrouge cannot be your guardian. That’s not an option available to you. The courts will take custody of you as a ward and if a relative or guardian is not found or is found negligent then you will be assigned one.”
Oh, Lilia would very much like to see someone try and stop him.
The boy went silent, staring at the man as said man began explaining the Land of Dawning’s foster system. The very foster system ripe with half-Fae children, according to the first doctor he’d spoken with. He was beginning to see some very concerning patterns there. A half-Fae social worker trying to take a child away from a Fae to be placed in a system full of part-Fae children.
Very concerning indeed. He’d send one of his bats along to investigate. He lost track of the conversation again, diving into planning. He’d need to send one of his stealthier bats, a vampire most likely. Espionage wasn’t one of his favorite things in the world but he was moderately okay at it. It was mostly due to his familiars. Stealth didn’t come naturally to him anymore.
“My phone?”
Lilia’s head snapped up at the half-Fae’s confused tone. The boy hunched low, ducking his chin like he expected someone to go for his throat, not that Lilia would allow anyone to. The fear still slept beneath the surface, but Lilia was almost certain it would be a long-term issue he’d have to guide the boy through.
His cheeks and ears burned bright pink and Lilia couldn’t help but let out a soft adoring coo he was sure nobody else heard. The boy looked just like Malleus when he was embarrassed. Cute, but he couldn’t dwell on how utterly, completely, wholly, adorable his sons were.
It wasn’t that surprising that the boy didn’t know what a phone was. Most of the Valley didn’t care about electronics for the most part. It wasn’t that they didn’t know about or have electronics, they were just a very solitary people. They didn’t care to be connected to the wider world and generally wished to be left alone. Besides, there were far too many trolls online. If the Fae joined the rest of the world on the internet then half the world would be cursed or dead.
There were plenty of countries, most of them very small, that didn’t have or use electronics. Given most phones were powered by magecraft, and thus magic, there were quite a few magic-intolerant countries that shunned the usage of electronics entirely. If the child came from one such country then he likely would’ve never even seen a phone.
“We didn’t record any signs of head trauma in our exams, so there shouldn’t be any memory loss,” the doctor muttered to herself, though given nearly everyone else in the room had better hearing than a human, everyone else heard too.
Lilia held back a sigh and leaned against his son’s bedside, picking at his nails. He and Cater really did need to paint their nails soon. His were looking a bit scraggly and he couldn’t help but chip at them. And perhaps he just wanted to be a tad closer to his son. It wasn’t his fault Malleus and Silver had both decided they were too old to show him affection in public.
“Perhaps not memory loss, then,” Lilia tilted his head down, trying to catch his boy’s eyes, “Tell me, child, what did you use for long-distance communication in your homeland?”
The answer would tell him a lot about the location of his son’s homeland and culture. He’d need to make accommodations depending on the things he found out. He could still remember how jarring it was to go from living on the outskirts of the Valley to living in the capital, in the palace. He was certain at least half of his aggression at that age had been because of how very out of place he’d felt.
The child uncurled just enough to look up at him… and Lilia just…fell apart a little bit. Oh, oh dear, he was gone. So totally gone on this dear child. By Mab, that look was dangerous. Lilia’s heart throbbed painfully and he nearly sighed in lovesick awe. That was a look he’d burn empires to erase.
Bright green eyes glowed with magic even as they grew glassy with silver tears. The boy clenched his jaw tightly, trying to force his face flat and failing. The poor dear’s lip trembled faintly. That fear was plain in his eyes now with nothing for him to hide behind.
“We use owls,” blood beaded at the child’s lip, skin tearing as he chewed at it, “And letters.”
Ah, so it was just as he suspected. If they used owls then it must be a colder climate, potentially one like the Valley’s near-constant nightfall. It would make sense to use an animal accustomed to the night and cold for messengers.
The Valley often did the same if they didn’t simply use magic. Though they tended more to hawks and eagles due to the mountains. It shouldn’t be too terribly difficult to find an isolationistic country that used owls for communication.
“Letters?” The half-Fae’s voice went high and whistle-like, no doubt connecting the similarities between the Valley’s known aversion to technology and the child’s homeland. Lilia sent a quick lurking smile at the traitor, thrilling in the way he ducked his head lower.
“Yeah, you know, letters. Parchment, ink, bird. It’s not difficult,” the child’s voice hitched slightly. Lilia could hear the faint nasally wheeze that always came before one of his boys broke down. Though he doubted the boy even realized how close he was to breaking at the seams.
The boy’s eyes went wide, some realization hitting him hard, and he sat up ramrod straight. A haze washed over the vibrant green, the child’s jaw clenching tight. Soul-aching grief echoed through his scent, filling the room with a spectral scream that made the fledgling in Lilia’s hair shiver.
Lilia’s heart clenched, twisted agony lacing through him at the writhing magic. The half-Fae flinched, no doubt catching the magical scream. It reminded him terribly of a Fae child’s scream, more magic than scent, more scent than sound. A sound calling out to a guardian, a parent, a dam or sire, in desperate need of comfort.
He needed to do something, anything to make that sound stop.
“Ah, I see,” Lilia kept his voice as jovial as he could when the child’s magic begged for aid, “so your country doesn’t use technology?”
He could see the moment the child processed his question and the barely there scoff the boy stopped himself from making. Lilia wouldn’t have minded the insult much, he was well used to children making emotional decisions. If he punished Malleus every time the boy insulted him the boy would have an aversion to soap.
His son waved his hand vaguely at the dead machines, eyes stuck to his lap and a lip being thoroughly chewed. He’d need to stop that. The constant smell of blood would be too tempting for some of the first years.
“Our magic doesn’t do well with it,” his son whispered, his voice wet and thick with tears. Lilia desperately wanted to reach out and wipe the dewy wetness out of his eyes. He would’ve if he knew how the child would react to it. Oath or no oath, he could not expect the child to trust him implicitly yet. He doubted the boy truly saw him as a threat but emotions were difficult things to wrangle.
“I don’t think my headmaster even knows what electricity is .”
Lilia’s ears drooped slightly at the terribly fake laugh the child stuttered out. He filed the information away to be investigated later though. Or perhaps he could try distracting the boy from his sadness, keep him talking, and hopefully stumble upon a subject that could banish those devastating tears.
“Oh?” Lilia wrapped his magic around the boy, shifting his wings through reality to cover his child in an invisible barrier. It was the closest he could get to hugging him without knowing the poor dear’s boundaries.
“He’s over a hundred and ten,” the child hiccupped wetly, curling into himself. Lilia filed that away too. A hundred and ten was too old to be human. It’d be just about the age most Fae species reached young adulthood. Very interesting, but it could wait for later. The child was terribly close to breaking.
“I want my bird,” a high-pitched cry broke from the child as he curled even further into himself. The boy tucked his knees close to his chest, burying his head in them, but Lilia could still see, still smell, the silvery tears that fell from heartbroken eyes. Then the boy’s hand was in his mouth and tiny little fangs pressed against pale, fragile skin, and Lilia-
Lilia just couldn’t. He couldn’t just stand there anymore. Not when the child was falling apart right there. Not when he could hear that magic scream out again, even louder than before, calling for someone who most likely couldn’t answer anymore.
A familiar was a terrible loss. One every mage respected, regardless of race. They all loved their companions deeply. Lilia sat on the bedside, still careful, but he couldn’t stop himself now. He took the child into his arms, pressing him tight against his chest. He couldn’t stop himself from carding a hand through stringy, dry, hair. Anything, anything, anything, to stop that horrid crying, to stop that outpouring of agony.
“Oh, oh, oh, dear,” he whispered, rocking his boy side to side as gently as he could when gentleness wasn’t in his nature, “We’ve had a difficult couple of days, haven’t we? It’s just too many emotions, isn’t it?”
Too many emotions, too many people, too much strife and pain and life. Oh, how Lilia longed to whisk him away. Away to the Valley of Thorns and the Land of Briars, where time and life bled away. Where dreams and night reigned above all else. No agony would touch his children, his beloved little ones. Not while Lilia was there to take their pain, to guard them while they slept.
Gently, gently because he didn’t know how not to break the fragile porcelain creature in his arms, the creature wearing the skin of Lilia Vanrouge pried the child’s hand from a tiny fang-filled mouth. No harm was permitted to come to his children, not even harm caused by said children. Or perhaps especially not pain caused by his children. He was the only one permitted to harm them. To harm and love and covet for all of eternity, until time untold.
Lilia Vanrouge rubbed at the little indents in fragile flesh, willing the skin to heal unbroken and unbruised. He could punish the child later, once he grew to trust him more. He wouldn’t hurt him, not for such an infraction, but it was unacceptable for the boy to harm himself. His children were his to own. His to raise and nurture. His to punish and teach. He’d have to come up with something suitable to the offense. He couldn’t use the more common punishments he used with Silver, Sebek, and Malleus, not when the child was so frail and splintered at the edges.
Slowly, Lilia cupped the back of the child’s head, weaving a web of tangled sleep and dreams around the fractured mind. He pressed his nose to the child’s hair, breathing in the baby-like scent of crackling fire and untamed wilds.
Sleep, sleep, sleep.
His baby. Yes, his. All his. His beloved little fledgling with hair like downy feathers and eyes like draconian fire.
His so very Fae child.
“Sir Vanrouge-” the half-breed mongrel shut its mouth when the thing that looked back at him had eyes far too red and skin far too pale.
Moonlight captured in a physical form smiled with teeth of dusky light and a tongue of shade and ash.
“I’ve raised three children, believe me, this is the easiest way to get him to go to sleep without another outburst.” Its voice drawled like the ringing of church bells at midnight. It sang a soft song, so incongruent with its form, lulling its far too mortal child to a realm more mist than earth.
The mortals kept their mouths shut and fled the room the moment the door was unhinged.