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Lilia remembers the day of Sebek’s birth like it was yesterday. To him, it might as well have been. What is 16 years to a fae who’s seen centuries, closing in on millennia? Nothing more than the blink of an eye. Lilia has zoned out and come back to find himself decades later, wading into an entirely new war. It’s not an uncommon thing to happen. All individuals are different, but fae as a whole tend to process time differently from other species. He’s never seen that particular brand of dreamy detachment in another race, though he’s led whole battalions of daydreaming soldiers to victory and grown far too familiar with how it manifests in Malleus’ green eyes.
The closest he’s ever seen is the sense of alien disconnection that shows in some old merfolk – the type who thought they’d abandoned the surface long ago and aren’t entirely sure why they’ve come back into contact with it. Most merfolk are, if not fully amphibious, at least partly dependent on surface trade and air, but there are always some who hail from deeper places. These are the ones who could happily spend their full lives in the abyss, where the sunlight never reaches, slowly growing larger and more monstrous until they put even the affectionate cruelty of the fae to shame. Lilia has always empathized with them. Sometimes he, too, wishes to abandon this world and bury himself in crushing darkness.
Even after Silver came into his care, he occasionally drifted off into his thoughts, rocking the baby on autopilot until a cry jarred him back into wakefulness. He’s never once zoned out like that with Sebek around. This is less because he loves Sebek more than Silver – of course he doesn’t, you can’t weigh or measure love! Only feel it – and more because Sebek is, above anything else, loud.
“My lord! Please wait!”
“How dare you disrespect my lord!”
“One more crude word out of you and I’ll take your head!”
Ah, so cute.
It’s probably Lilia’s fault that he has a voice like thunder. Yes, it was Malleus who decided to practice a thoroughly-mastered lightning spell on a night that was already more storm than sky, each breath crackling with static, a palpable charge in the air, but Lilia was spacing out and didn’t stop him. It was a beautifully-cast spell, of course. Absolutely flawless. Beyond flawless, even. That was the problem. They both sensed the build-up of power before it happened, but by then it was too late. Green sparks flew upward, a charge that began at Malleus’ fingertips and roared up to the wall of clouds. A sheet of lightning surged down to meet them.
Lilia threw up a barrier, which promptly popped like a soap bubble. Magic is a beautiful and powerful thing, but it doesn’t last, and like everything else, it tends to shatter before the sheer might of the natural world. The pale green energy that bombarded them, shrieking so loud Lilia could feel his eardrums popping, signaled the birth of a new fae. What could be more natural than that?
A sphere of lightning slammed into the wet ground in front of Malleus and stuck there. Malleus gazed down at it, wide-eyed but otherwise impassive, and waited. This wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed one of his subjects being born from a surge of natural magic – splitting off from the soul of the world, if you were feeling poetic – but it was the first time he’d been directly involved. Oh, he certainly wasn’t the only reason this had occurred. If he and Lilia hadn’t stopped on that rainy night, Sebek would’ve been born a few hours later. Still, it had been Malleus’ carelessly-placed spell that brought things to a head early, so it was his responsibility to see this through.
At least, that was what Malleus told Lilia afterwards. At the time, he’d been absolutely spellbound. Pupils blown wide, a soft flush to ashen cheeks, every line of his body screaming interest. Lilia didn’t need to read his mind to know Malleus was transfixed.
And why wouldn’t he be? Such an atmospheric arrival. A bit flashy, but certainly stylish. Whoever this youngster turned out to be, Lilia knew they would get along.
Sebek Zigvolt took form at Malleus’ feet. Pale green hair blown back from his face, murky eyes filled with swirling storm clouds, a lean body carved from marble. He looked up slowly, skin still spitting sparks, and froze in place. Thin lips parted softly in a pure expression of awe. For a moment, he looked terribly fragile. Then he opened his mouth.
“My lord! Thank you for your gift of life! Please allow me to serve you as payment!”
Now that was interesting, Lilia had thought with a smile. Fae were not the agreeable sort. They didn’t group together by nature the way mortals did. It took a special kind of loyalty to latch onto another at first sight. Perhaps this bond arose because of this child having been born with Malleus’ power crackling under his skin, his thoughts already intertwined with the prince of the Valley of Thorns. Either way, it was lovely to watch.
Judging by the way Malleus pressed his lips firmly together and leaned incrementally away from the very enthusiastically shouting man in front of him, he disagreed. Oh well. In time, he’d learn the value of loyalty, whether it was earned or simply handed over as a gift.
In all honesty, he’s probably still learning that. But Lilia wouldn’t know. After all, Malleus doesn’t confide in him quite as often as he used to. Lilia’s heard mortals complaining of growing pains, of the way relationships strain and alter over time, and it sounds similar to what’s going on between him and Malleus now.
Spending more time with loved ones is supposed to help. But Malleus has had centuries with Lilia. Perhaps it’s time for Lilia to place his faith in someone else’s overflowing love for Malleus.
And, he reflects, watching a green man follow Malleus around NRC campus, crackling with manic energy, if there’s one thing Sebek will never run out of, it’s love.