Lilia Vanrouge -- Your Life as a Cheeky Bat's spouse (Part 2)
Lilia Vanrouge Confronts Fear
It happens on an ordinary night.
No festivals. No threats. No rivals. No screaming nobles or traumatized knights. Just the cottage, the forest humming softly beyond the windows, the fire low and comfortable.
Lilia is sitting at the table, pretending to read.
He has been on the same page for twenty minutes.
You notice because ancient fae are not subtle when they are pretending.
“You’re staring,” you say lightly.
“I’m observing,” Lilia corrects without looking up.
You snort. “You’re bad at it.”
That earns a quiet chuckle—but it fades too fast.
You pause, fabric in your hands.
Like he’s bracing something inside himself before it spills.
The bench creaks as he shifts closer, knees brushing. His hand finds yours without thinking—warm, familiar, grounding.
For a long moment, he says nothing.
“The other day,” he continues. “When the instincts flared. When I… hovered.”
“You didn’t scare me,” you say honestly. “I was confused. Concerned. But not scared.”
THE THING HE DOESN’T JOKE ABOUT
“I don’t usually talk about this,” he says quietly.
That alone sends a chill down your spine.
Lilia jokes about everything. War. Loss. Death. Time. Himself.
The things he doesn’t joke about are the things that still hurt.
“I’ve buried,” he continues, voice steady, “more people than you’ve ever met.”
“Lovers,” he says softly. “Friends. Children I raised. Comrades who swore forever beside me.”
His thumb rubs slow circles into your palm.
“They all said the same thing,” he murmurs. “‘I’ll be fine.’”
He laughs under his breath. It’s hollow.
You lean closer, instinctively.
“I didn’t expect—” He stops. Shakes his head. “No. That’s a lie. I did expect it.”
He’s looking through the room, eyes unfocused, caught somewhere far away.
“I just didn’t expect it to hurt like this again.”
THE UNFAIR PART OF LOVING AN ANCIENT FAE
“When you bonded to me,” Lilia says, “something old woke up.”
“Not possession,” he adds quickly. “Never that. Gods, never that.”
His hand comes up to your cheek, reverent.
“Fear,” he repeats, “that I will wake one day and you won’t.”
“I’ve lived through plagues,” he continues quietly. “Wars. Curses that wiped entire bloodlines from the map. I have outlasted civilizations.”
“I don’t mean weak,” he says immediately. “I mean… finite.”
Outside, the forest listens.
YOU SAY THE HARD THING BACK
“I know I don’t have your time,” you continue gently. “I know you’ll probably outlive me.”
“But that doesn’t mean I’m already gone,” you say.
“You’re grieving me before I’ve even left,” you say softly.
“I’m afraid,” Lilia admits.
The words look foreign on him.
“I’m afraid I’ll love you wrong,” he continues. “Too tightly. Too carefully. Like if I just watch closely enough, time won’t notice you.”
You lean your forehead against his.
“I’m afraid,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “that one day I’ll blink—and you’ll be a memory.”
His arms come around you, not crushing, not desperate.
“I don’t regret choosing you,” he says fiercely. “Never that. I’d choose you again even knowing the end.”
You wrap your arms around him.
“But gods,” he murmurs into your hair, “I hate the end.”
THE SOFT PART (WHERE YOU SAVE EACH OTHER A LITTLE)
“You don’t have to love me like I’m already dying,” you say quietly.
“I want you to love me like I’m alive.”
He laughs—once, sharp and broken—and presses his face into your shoulder.
“You humans,” he mutters. “Always asking for the impossible.”
You smile sadly. “You married one.”
He pulls back just enough to look at you.
“And when I can’t anymore,” you add gently, “I’ll have stayed as long as I could.”
His expression crumples—just a little.
“…That will have to be enough.”
Later, when the fire burns low and the night settles deep, Lilia presses his forehead to yours again.
“I won’t cage you,” he says. “I won’t let fear make me cruel.”
“But I will treasure you,” he continues. “Every day. Loudly. Publicly. Embarrassingly.”
You laugh. “Sebek will never recover.”
“And when the time comes,” he finishes softly, “I will grieve you properly.”
Outside, the forest exhales.
And for now—
For this moment—
Time is kind.
📓 THE PERSONAL DIARY OF SEBEK ZIGVOLT
CONFISCATION REQUESTED. BURN AFTER READING. WHY DOES THIS EXIST.
DAY ONE OF THE DISASTER (a.k.a. “WHY IS LORD LILIA MARRIED”)
I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, SWORN RETAINER OF LORD MALLEUS DRACONIA, WRITE THIS ENTRY IN A STATE OF EXTREME DISTRESS.
TODAY I LEARNED THAT LORD LILIA VANROUGE IS MARRIED.
THIS WAS NOT DISCUSSED. THIS WAS NOT ANNOUNCED. THIS WAS SIMPLY—SPRUNG UPON ME LIKE A CURSE FROM THE ANCIENT WOODS.
LORD LILIA HAD HIS ARM AROUND THEM.
SILVER SAID, “Oh. You didn’t know?”
EARLY COHABITATION OBSERVATIONS (UNWANTED)
I HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED TO DELIVER DOCUMENTS TO LORD LILIA’S COTTAGE.
THE COTTAGE IS NOT A COTTAGE.
THERE ARE BLANKETS EVERYWHERE.
WHY ARE THERE SO MANY BLANKETS.
WHY IS LORD LILIA COOKING.
WHY DOES THE HUMAN JUST—SMILE AND EAT IT ANYWAY.
LORD LILIA CALLED THEM “MY BELOVED” AND I HAD TO STEP OUTSIDE AND SCREAM INTO A TREE.
THE FIRST PUBLIC AFFECTION INCIDENT
LORD LILIA FED THEM FRUIT.
I MADE A NOISE I DID NOT KNOW I COULD MAKE.
A CHILD ASKED THEIR PARENT WHY THE DRAGON KNIGHT WAS TURNING GREEN.
THE PARENT SAID, “THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU CAN’T UNSEE.”
I ASKED SILVER HOW HE IS SO CALM ABOUT THIS.
HE SAID, “Father looks happy.”
I SAID, “THAT IS NOT THE ISSUE.”
SILVER SAID, “It kind of is.”
THE FESTIVAL INCIDENT (I WILL NEVER RECOVER)
THE ANCIENT MAGIC REACTED.
WHY DOES MAGIC LIKE THEM.
WHY IS THE FOREST ON THEIR SIDE.
I YELLED “THIS IS A RITUAL” AND NO ONE LISTENED.
GRANDFATHER BAUL LAUGHED SO HARD HE SPILLED HIS DRINK.
HE SAID, “HAHA! LET THE BOY LOVE!”
THE NIGHT OF REVERENCE (OR: THE NIGHT MY SOUL LEFT MY BODY)
LORD LILIA CALLED THEM “MY BELOVED” AGAIN BUT THIS TIME THE MOON RESPONDED.
WHEN I AWOKE, THREE ELDERS WERE ARGUING AND LORD MALLEUS WAS SMILING.
THE RIVAL NOBLE INCIDENT (WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT)
A NOBLE TRIED TO COURT THEM.
GRANDFATHER BAUL STOOD UP AND SAID, “OH THIS WILL BE FUN.”
I HAVE LEARNED A NEW DEFINITION OF “CONSEQUENCES.”
THE CHALLENGE (WHY IS THIS LEGAL)
LORD LILIA ACCEPTED THE CHALLENGE SMILING.
THE HUMAN STOOD BEHIND HIM AND I REALIZED—
SAFER THAN ANYWHERE ELSE.
THIS THOUGHT MADE ME ANGRY AND SAD.
GRANDFATHER BAUL CHEERED.
POST-CHALLENGE BEHAVIOR (IT GOT WORSE)
THE HUMAN IS WRAPPED IN HIS CLOAK AT ALL TIMES.
WHY DOES EVERYTHING SMELL LIKE HIM.
WHY DOES THE FOREST HUM WHEN THEY WALK BY.
SILVER SAID, “He’s nesting.”
I SAID, “STOP SAYING THAT WORD.”
THE OVERHEARD CONVERSATION (I WAS NOT MEANT TO HEAR THIS)
I WAS WALKING PAST THE COTTAGE.
“I’VE LIVED TOO LONG TO LOSE YOU.”
SILVER HANDED ME TEA WITHOUT ASKING.
WE STARED AT THE WALL FOR A WHILE.
GRANDFATHER’S COMMENTARY (UNHELPFUL)
I ASKED GRANDFATHER IF THIS WAS NORMAL.
HE SAID, “FOR ANCIENT FAE? YES.”
I ASKED IF IT WAS HEALTHY.
I ASKED IF IT WAS BEAUTIFUL.
I HATE ANSWERS LIKE THAT.
TODAY LORD LILIA TUCKED A BLANKET AROUND THEM.
THE HUMAN LOOKED AT HIM LIKE HE WAS HOME.
I WILL NEVER BE NORMAL AGAIN
I HAVE LEARNED THAT LOVE IS TERRIFYING.
I HAVE LEARNED THAT ANCIENT FAE DO NOT LOVE SOFTLY.
I HAVE LEARNED THAT LORD LILIA VANROUGE IS THE MOST UNHINGED BEING ALIVE.
AND THAT HIS SPOUSE IS SOMEHOW—
I WILL PROTECT THEM WITH MY LIFE.
I WILL ALSO NEVER MAKE EYE CONTACT AGAIN.
📘 SILVER VANROUGE’S COUNTER-DIARY
Private Observations Regarding Father, His Spouse, and the Ongoing Emotional Disaster
(Handwriting is careful. Margins are used. Pages smell faintly of tea.)
On Learning My Father Is Married
Father told me over breakfast.
He said it casually, while stirring something that was definitely burning.
“I got married,” he said.
Father smiled like this was the expected reaction.
Father gestured to the doorway.
They laugh easily. They ask before touching my hair. They thank Father when he cooks, even though he should not be encouraged.
Father watches them like they might vanish if he blinks.
I think this is important.
Sebek’s Distress Level: Baseline
Sebek has begun yelling approximately 37% more than usual.
He says this is different.
The cottage is warmer now.
Not magically. Emotionally.
Father hums while doing chores. This is new. He used to whistle. Humming is quieter. More private.
They sit together on the floor sometimes. Not doing anything. Just existing.
Sebek says this is “suspicious.”
Public Affection Incident #1
Father held their hand at the market.
Sebek shouted, “THIS IS A PUBLIC SPACE.”
The fruit vendor gave us an extra apple. I believe this was a bribe for silence.
Father dances beautifully.
What is new is that he smiles while doing it.
Not the sharp smile. The real one.
Not because he was rude — though he was — but because Father went very still when he spoke.
Father is loud when he is joking. Quiet when he is dangerous.
Father’s wing brushed my shoulder.
Grandfather Baul was delighted.
This should have warned us.
Father did not raise his voice.
He simply stated truths the world accepted immediately.
I handed him a handkerchief.
Father has been… attentive.
He adjusts blankets. Checks food temperature. Walks on the outside of paths.
They tease him gently about it.
Sebek says this is “nesting.”
I was supposed to be asleep.
I heard Father say, “I’ve lived too long to lose you.”
They said something back I couldn’t hear.
Father laughed softly after.
I slept better than usual.
He mutters while writing.
Sometimes he screams mid-sentence and crosses out the page.
Grandfather Baul reads it when Sebek isn’t looking.
Grandfather Baul adds notes.
He does not say it directly.
But he watches time more closely now. Notices small changes. Memorizes expressions.
I think loving someone mortal is like holding water in your hands.
You know it will slip away.
Father jokes about children sometimes.
Sebek turned red and left the room.
They hid their face in Father’s shoulder.
Father laughed for a long time.
Sebek says he will never recover.
He already stands closer to them in crowds.
He yells at anyone who looks at them strangely.
He does not notice he is doing this.
The cottage feels like a place meant to be returned to.
That is rare for someone who has lived so long.
His spouse loves bravely.
Grandfather Baul loves chaos.
I will continue observing.
I will also continue making tea.
Some things are worth recording.
Some things are worth simply letting be.
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