Archive of Our Own ^beta

“It seems to me like you remember the steps perfectly fine, Malleus.”

When Malleus had come to Vil after the grand reveal of the student trip to Noble Bell College over Halloween in little over a month, he didn’t bat much of an eye at their request.

“There’s going to be a dance,” Malleus had been so kind as to inform him at the time. 

“Okay. Congratulations, Malleus.” It might have been a bit quick to snark, but it wouldn’t have been unlike Malleus Draconia to be happy to boast.
And Vil was not in the mood for that, he too, would’ve liked to go and with Epel and Rook on the invitation list, he was miffed enough about it already.

But to Vil’s surprise Malleus’ intent was not one of smugness, but a question for help.

Help with dancing. He called it practice, but Vil thinks this would be more adequately called a “refresher”.

“It never hurts to practice. I would think you of all people would understand that notion, Schoenheit.” 

“Of course I do.” Vil twists the cap off the bottle he’d brought, unspoken thoughts behind absent eyes whilst he fiddles with it, until he puts the bottle to his lips for a quick drink.  Their left foot taps the floor of Pomefiore’s dance studio.
A gesture to bring himself back to the situation after a break.

“But so would Lilia.” Vil reminds him, and Malleus can’t argue with that.. “Or Sebek, for that matter. Actually, I can visualize him begging you to let him be your dance partner.”

Malleus can’t really argue with that, either. The thought makes him chuckle, though.

“And Diasomnia has plenty of space to practice as well. Even if it didn’t, it isn’t unheard of for other dorms to make use of others’ amenities, you simply could have asked to borrow the space. I thought you asked me because I would’ve been the least likely to coddle you if your dancing was rusty.” 

“Is this your way of implying I should seek out another practice partner?”

Vil has a sligh furrow to his brows, his eyes glance up and down, assessing Malleus’ reaction to everything he just said.
He then places the bottle back down on the low bench, and his finger taps play on his phone, the quiet waltzing music resuming from where it left off.

“That isn’t what I said.” He approaches Malleus again, putting hand to shoulder, and Malleus mimics. 

When Malleus doesn’t immediately start, awaiting Vil to say something first, he feels Vil’s foot nudge against his, and the dance continues. 

“I’m simply wondering if you are enjoying your attempt to bully me.”

“Bully you?” 

Vil frowns at how surprised Malleus seems at the implications. 
Even now, when they’re quite clearly having a conversation he doesn’t seem distracted in the slightest, and everything remains in rhythm, in time, in place.

“I believe I’ve given you credit where none is due.” Vil admits with a bit of a sigh, and a half-smiled roll of the eyes.
“But don’t you think it’s a little cruel to ask someone who does not get to go to the lavish and fun exchange dance to be your dance partner to practice for the event?”

“Is that a hint of jealousy I spy, Schoenheit?”

“Absolutely.” Vil admits, albeit in a jestful and light manner. “A whole heap of it, dare I say.”

Their movement gets halted when Malleus comes to a stop, and Vil almost gets mental whiplash from how unbudging they are when he himself doesn’t perfectly stop when they do. One would think Vil’s half a second of still being in movement would move them to accommodate the momentum, but they might as well have turned to stone where they stand.

Fae strength is something else.

“Did I offend you by asking you to dance with me?” Vil can’t help but laugh a bit at their question, and their very serious stare accompanying it, but ultimately he shakes his head.

“Please, it takes more than that to offend me, Malleus. But even I can get jealous. I believe you too were quite disappointed when you were not picked, only to get a personal invitation after all.”

“I suppose.” 

Malleus remains quiet for a time, and while Vil has made multiple body language cues that maybe they shouldn’t be interlocked like this if they are planning to talk, Malleus hasn’t picked up on any of them.

“And now you are worrying me. No snark? No snark at all at that? I was just about prepared you’d bask in someone being jealous of you.” 

“I feel somewhat troubled by it when it comes from someone like you.” 

Vil scoffs, loudly, glossing over whatever “someone like you” is supposed to mean.

“Absolutely not. I will not take pity . This is barely that big of a deal. Let us just continue our practice, shall we?” 

“Perhaps we can still ask if you can join too, Schoenheit.”

“Malleus.” Vil sighs, exasperated. “I’m not a child. I think I’ll survive not being able to go.” Malleus is never predictable but whatever he does get in his head, he is certain to get stuck on. 

“I’ll live vicariously through our practice, how is that?” Vil proposes, lest Malleus actually embarrasses him by attempting to get them an invitation too. Vil doesn’t do pity invitations.

That, and the City of Flowers isn’t a location that disappears after they have visited, Vil can go there (and has gone there, mind you) as much as he wants. Those won’t include a masquerade nor during Halloween whilst he is still in school, but you win some, you lose some.

It seems Malleus’ attention has been piqued by that as acceptable enough, as he nods absentmindedly. 

The absentminded nod becomes a somewhat more determined one when it seems they’ve made up their mind about something. Somehow, that does the opposite of putting Vil at ease.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Schoenheit.”

But instead of continuing to dance, this is the moment he finally lets go of Vil’s hand and side. Vil wants to question him, but when Malleus’ magical pen suddenly zips toward the hand he holds out from where it was tucked into his jacket lying on the bench with their other items.

But Vil practically snatches the thing out of the air before Malleus can get a hold of it.

Malleus gives him a slightly annoyed frown. Vil is smart enough to elaborate immediately, before they get upset.

“You saying “Wonderful idea” followed by grabbing your magic pen sounds like a disastrous set-up, what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“If this is to be half as enjoyable as the actual event, I believe we deserve a better stage.” 

“No.” Vil is stern with his answer, holding the pen out to them with an exasperated sigh.. “No teleportation.”

“I wasn’t planning on it. Have a little faith, Schoenheit.”

The two housewardens become entangled in a wordless conversation through staring. 
It’s somewhat one-sided, where Vil tries to puzzle together what sort of intentions lie behind the look they have in their eye, and Malleus isn’t interested in anything beyond a go-ahead.

Vil has to give him some credit for that. Malleus has learned to at least respect awaiting some form of approval, instead of doing whatever he wants impulsively.

And, he is in Vil’s dorm after all, their say is what goes.

“I doubt you’ll elaborate if I ask.” “Correct.” 

There’s another few seconds of silence before Vil opens up both hands in an admission of defeat. He has no desire to out-stubborn Malleus on this occasion.

“I’ll allow it. Only because I’m curious enough. But do something that gets either you, or god forbid, me in trouble and you will not hear the end of it for weeks .”

“Of course.” Malleus nods, too curtly and royally for how he actually is. “Now, you might want to stand back.”

“You’re just saying that to rile me up.” Malleus frowns in displeasure at the accusation, but it does nothing more than confirm what Vil was thinking. That man will take any opportunity to show off. 

Vil still takes a few steps back, just to humour them, which Malleus seems to appreciate.

He twirls the pen between fingers to flourish it, natural enough that you could fool any non magic user into believing it an integral part of casting a spell. But who’s to say maybe showing off is integral to Malleus’ process.

There’s that distinct feeling of magic building up in the air, culminating into the green gem affixed to the Diasomnia housewarden’s pen. And once enough of it has been collected as needed, Malleus’ eyes open with intent.
Vil can’t hear whatever it is Malleus mutters, but their lips move for a short while before they take a heavy and methodical step forward with one leg whilst the other remains grounded. The impact from said step reverberates both in sound, as does the magic released from it, like a chill wind moving out in every direction.

Then, from the point where the sole of their shoe meets the floor of the dance studio, magic pools beneath it and wraps the floor, spreading further through the wood as if it were a stain of wine. 
At least it appears to be a stain at first, but as it grows and spreads out at a quickening pace, there’s more than just the singular burgundy color.
Once the changing of the floor reaches Vil he lifts up one of his feet slightly, as if trying to avoid the incoming tide when standing too close to the ocean.

It’s a flower, a mosaic of tiles in red, and beyond it the floor fills with black tiles and those same big mosaic flowers patterning the flooring. But by the time it’s made it past Vil, there’s much more to look at.

The ceiling gets taken over by the sight of another one, fracturing into its new form bit by bit. The normal ceiling almost looks like it gets broken down to reveal a much higher one above. Dome shaped and painted, with a singular centrepiece chandelier, whose candles flicker unnaturally as —what Vil assumes to be— the illusion takes shape.

Grand and high windows separated by pillars lead to the outside Vil knows isn’t there, a dark night beyond the glass. It’s an impressive feat of magic, and is certain to give anyone a headache if you try to look into the details beyond the windows too much.

The lighting is unnatural within the new space that’s nearing completion, daylight casting shadows with no sun to be spotted. An error that gets fixed as soon as the whole space has taken shape, and flames on the candelabras and chandelier wisp to life as the space dims. 

“This ought to be satisfactory, I think.” It’s the first time Vil looks back to Malleus since their spell began, and they seem proud of their work. 

“Where are we?” 

“Still in Pomefiore.” It’s a simple answer, but luckily Malleus is not foolish enough to leave it at that, knowing very well what Vil had meant. They can’t miss adding a quip to save their life.

“Nowhere in particular. I doubt this place exists somewhere in reality.”

“An illusion from imagination?” Vil glances around the grand room again, as if double checking if all the ornate details are still there and he hadn’t just been imagining them himself.
Then, he whips his head back to Malleus. “On this scale?"

It’s extremely advanced, even for third year students. 
Vil doesn’t remember learning anything like this in class. And Vil remembers everything .

“Tell me,” Vil starts, his gaze pondering around the space. “I’ve rarely missed a day of class during my time here and even when I did Rook has taken extensive notes for me. When did you learn this?”

“Ah, I learned this spell far, far before attending Night Raven College.” Malleus’ smile is audible through their words, even when Vil is not looking at him.
Their tone doesn’t sound like something that would accompany a smile. Bittersweet.

“When you are forced to stay inside a palace, you find other ways to admire the outside world. Or, well” Malleus huffs a half, forced smile before he corrects himself. “What you think the outside world looks like based on pictures and books.”

“You’ve been doing this since you were young?” 

He hums in affirmation, before he redirects his attention to Vil. He knows what face to expect, or so he thinks, but gets surprised by the blatant furrowed eyes where otherwise many would react with pity.

“You really are unbelievably overqualified to be here.”

Malleus tries to stifle his laugh at first, but can’t contain it for very long. Vil was right earlier when he acknowledged Malleus must know he is not one to dote or to coddle, and it always leaves their reactions fresh and unexpected.
If it would not sound mocking or disrespectful to say aloud, Malleus would be inclined to tell them they are highly entertaining at most occasions. 

Highly entertaining indeed.

“Perhaps I ought to ask the Headmage for my graduation diploma already, then?”

“I’m certain he will make it happen. Saves him another two years of paperwork for fire and lightning related incidents.” 

“My record of setting things ablaze is not that extensive.” Malleus retaliates momentarily, not even commenting on the “lightning-related” addition Vil had spoken of. He wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Mine is at zero.” Vil quips back with a sly smile and raised eyebrows, but they go back to admiring the room immediately after. No way to argue there for Malleus.

“Should this space suffice?” Malleus asks, another subject instead. 

“I’m not certain it’s dramatic enough.” Vil speaks with a bit of a hum, tapping a finger to their chin. Malleus approaches where they stand, joining them in looking around.

“I.. suppose I can add some things here and there, still, what were you–” 

When his eyes glance toward the man next to him, their mouth is just slightly agape in a loss for words, his expression clear enough to show Malleus had missed the point of their words.

“You were joking.”

“I was.”

Vil can’t help but laugh, only for a moment before they reel it back in, and Malleus tries not to look embarrassed. Or pout.

“Honestly, Malleus. Often when I want you to take me seriously, you don’t, and when I don’t want you to, you do. You have to work on your social skills, it’s unfitting for a prince to be this bad at it.”

“Perhaps after the dancing, that’s the next thing you can assist me with, hm?” 

Vil takes a moment to study Malleus face, whom returns the favor.

Vil can’t tell if they are joking or being serious. And Malleus will refuse to admit any lingering seriousness in it if Vil were to take it as a joke. Neither of them get their proper answer when Vil moves on.

“Let us get back to said dancing, shall we? We’ve been taking a break for long enough.”

“Of course, just one more thing.” Malleus nods in slow agreement.

“Right.” Vil looks around, trying to spot wherever his phone has gone so he can resume having music in the back. 

It’s nowhere to be spotted. Must’ve been illusioned over. And Vil can’t remember which direction he might find it in if he starts blindly patting for the bench.
With a hand placed on his own hip Vil raises his hand, palm upward in a signature gesture he finds himself doing often, whilst he starts to turn toward Malleus to question him about it.

“I think you’ve illusioned my phone away, do you think you can— ?!” 

There’s no time to finish his question when he’s greeted with a magic pen being pointed at him from a couple of paces away, a familiar green glow already built up and released before he can effectively counter. 
It’s purely only instinctual that he raises both arms to cover his face from the brightness and impact. And despite being aware Malleus has no reason —or is stupid enough— to do anything harmful, it’s still Malleus Draconia flinging a spell at you. No sane person doesn’t flinch at the sight of that.

“Malleus!” Vil scolds sternly, waving his hand around to clear out any lingering firefly-like sparks fluttering about after the impact like clearing smoke. “You do not use magic on other people, for Seven’s sake!”

“It was important.” Malleus laughs quietly, and Vil’s barely been able to open his eyes again before there’s another green glow. Luckily, not coming for him nor meant for him at all. 
He can just see Malleus tapping his own sleeve with his magic pen, which makes the spot glow before spreading out across all of his outfit. It looks extremely silly to see Malleus in a glowstick-bright version of his outfit for a moment before the light bursts into those same firefly sparks, revealing a new outfit.

A new illusioned outfit, no doubt.

Malleus must be very excited about this masquerade dance, if it got him to tread through the effort of figuring out how to watch a movie. And Vil can tell exactly what movie he got outfit inspiration from. 
“To hold a nightingale” is a film from the 70’s. From what Vil can remember it’s not a stellar movie acting wise but the costume direction was award-worthy. It had to be, being a dress designer’s passion piece sponsoring.

It’s not a bad choice on Malleus’ part, though. Royal blue and silver surprisingly work with him.

Wait.

It isn’t hard to put two and two together after seeing Malleus’ had a bright light induced outfit change after deciding to fling an until now unknown spell at Vil prior. Vil looks down to his hands and arms, before glancing down fully.

Have we switched color palettes today? Why’s he put me in green?

Dark emerald green, specifically. It’s an important differentiation to make.

“People pay me to dress me in whatever they want, can your impulsive self let your brain cogs turn for just one minute before you do something?!”

Vil huffs in annoyance, but when he looks at Malleus they don’t seem bothered by the comment at all, only nodding his head toward their right as if pointing something out. With a glance, Vil has to do a momentary double take when he sees himself, despite no mirror being present.
The eye-snapping double take being mimicked by the figure in front of him is enough to know it’s basically a mirror. He can’t tell if this is the actual Pomefiore’s mirror being worked into Malleus’ illusion, or some other type of addition to it.

Vil refuses to try and wrap his head around it. At least Malleus has the courtesy to provide one.

“Hm.” 

Vil takes a moment. Turns his upper body a bit, then a slow turnaround.

“Hm.”

It’s a pity, Vil was already getting in the mood to serve him another fresh dose of responsible adult ranting, but what he’s faced with is hardly something to get offended over.  
It would be easier if it was, it would’ve fueled enough fury to actually get through that horned bastard’s thick skull.

“Is it to your liki–” “It’s acceptable .” Vil interrupts Malleus. Purposefully. He refuses to stroke their ego too much. But he has yet to look away from carefully inspecting his mirror doppleganger, so maybe words would not even be needed for that.

“I was not kidding when I said people pay to dress me. I should send you a bill.” 

“If it is that important to you, who am I to abuse your expertise?” Malleus laughs, and Vil glances at them over his shoulder, seeing they seem genuinely in thought.

“How much would you ask for a designer to model one of their pieces? 1,000,000 thaumarks ought to do it, right?”

Vil chokes on nothing at their vastly overestimated guess. Malleus gets slightly startled by the loud visual reaction.

1,000,000? Just for something like this???

And Malleus doesn't look like he's trying to joke.

Vil is expensive, but for something like this, that’s way overestimating it.

“Well, not exactly.” Vil chuckles, just slightly thrown-off still.

“Perhaps that is on the low end.. Apologies, I am not familiar with the cost of models.”

“What? No, no, no!” Vil retorts, a quick turn on his heel holding his arms out in front of him and waving them cross a couple of times while he shakes his head. “Who do you think I am? That’s absurd even for me!”

“...So, less, then?” Malleus asks, and there’s something oddly innocent about their genuine confusion.

“You could say that.” 

Vil knows Malleus is a prince and has plenty of funds to back up such a purchase, but he isn’t as questionably informed about monetary things as Kalim is sometimes.

“How strange… And you are certain you are not selling yourself short?” 

“Malleus.” Vil’s tone is scolding, and Malleus’ expression in response seems awkwardly apologetic. He must think he’s starting to annoy Vil, but Vil just doesn’t quite know how to keep up with their oddly genuine flattery.

“Let us just... Get back to practicing?” 

Malleus seems… confused. In a somewhat stern manner, thinking. 

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” “Excuse me?”

“It’s unlike you to sound questioning when you want to get back to–”

“Then we get back to practice! Ah, you’re unbelievable!” Vil has turned around, waving through the mirror doppelganger as if that would dissipate them. It does a bit, like waving your hand through a still pond, and it’s enough to hide a slightly redder tint to his face.

It disappears eventually, if done by Malleus or by enough disturbance, Vil isn’t sure.

“Continuing to dance it is.” There’s a snap of the finger, then the steady rise in volume of familiar ballroom music. Vil never did get to his phone, but it matters not where the music comes from.

Vil seems ready to simply go right back at it but before he can reach Malleus they speak up, a dramatic hand to heart before he bows slightly, eyes closed with a sly smile.

“Well then, Schoenheit.”

Their eyes open before they’ve stood up, glancing toward Vil in a smugly content manner, straightening up whilst he holds his hand out.

“May I have this dance?”

Vil blinks, twice, looking the fae in front of him up and down, thoughtfully. He’ll never be able to figure them out. 

Vil huffs a smile, suppressing the need to roll his eyes at their dramatics, but he courtesies in response, which seems to surprise Malleus just slightly. They seem intrigued, perhaps not expecting Vil to play along that much and get right back into training mode.

“You may.” 

Vil doesn’t actually remember how long they danced for. It didn’t seem like long.

It wasn’t much later than early afternoon when they had started, and only when Malleus spoke up about being hungry and taking a break for a snack was when they got the idea to check the time at all.
A break for a snack wouldn’t be necessary, both of them end up embarrassingly late at their respective dorm’s supper.

Vil would blame the illusion’s inability to properly show the passage of time as to why the two of them end up occupying the space much longer than initially planned.

But, he can’t. Not without lying.

“Schoenheit.”

Vil looks up from his smartphone, in the midst of checking if his agent has forwarded any important emails he should take priority in reading today. No such ones today, so with a click of a button he sends his phone back into sleep mode before tucking it away in his pocket.
And giving proper attention to the person coming down the hall who called his name.

“Malleus, good morning. I hope you did not get into too much trouble being late at supper?”

“Hardly. The gathered dorm eating is not something I find myself partaking in often. Too busy.”

“That’s good to hear.”

The two of them end up looking at each other for a bit, until Vil raises his eyebrows questioningly, wordlessly asking if there’s something else they need. He assumed they were just greeting him before moving on.

“Ah, yes. I had hoped you had another moment free in your schedule to practice before we have to attend Noble Bell College.”

He clearly doesn’t need it. Vil knows that. Malleus should know that, too. Vil is certain he does.

“I think I do.” Malleus doesn’t miss how Vil doesn’t even check his phone to make sure.

“Wonderful, I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“As will I.”