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So it turned out that everything between them had been, like so much in her life, just a product of Myuu's overactive imagination.
—Or, well, not everything. It probably wasn't wrong to say that Lilia-chan was her friend, at least. She was pretty sure he'd been honest when he'd said he enjoyed spending time with her. And when he'd laughed, at least most of the time he'd had to have meant it, right? No one laughed so hard they spat milk from their nose without meaning it at least a little.
But obviously Lilia-chan wasn't really her best friend—or rather, obviously she wasn't actually his. Best friends, Myuu was pretty sure, told each other things about, say, their adopted kids, or their impending school dropouts, or whatever. Their rapidly approaching death? Their extremely clear lingering feelings for a woman that'd been gone for centuries? All that stuff that Myuu'd had no idea Lilia'd had going on.
And just because Myuu'd let a few things about herself slip in a really stupid bout of misplaced sentimentality after Grimmy'd gone missing didn't mean she thought of him like that, either. Just because she had more fun with Lilia than she'd ever had with anyone else she'd ever met in her entire life didn't mean she was gonna be an idiot about everything, duh. She wasn't like the guys running around NRC, shouting about their feelings and acting without thinking, Overblotting and crying and all that stupid stuff they hadn't learned to properly put away yet. She was an adult—she wasn't gonna dump all her baggage on someone who didn't actually give a shit. For example, Lilia.
Or, urgh, well, she had, but she wasn't gonna be dumb enough to think it actually meant something. He'd been really nice about it, even. She'd dragged herself home after another afternoon wandering around campus with an open can of tuna and he'd been by her door, and when he turned and said Myuu-chan, something about the gentleness of his tone had just cracked her open like an egg. She'd sat down right there in the middle of the gardens and started wailing like a kid again.
And Lilia'd just… come sat down with her, held her close, and he was so much shorter but she'd felt so weirdly safe in his arms, his hands stroking gently up and down her back. I-I just, she'd managed through her stupid snotty sobs, can't s-stand coming back to an e-empty fucking house again!
He'd stroked her hair and made a bunch of soft kind sounds as words kept tripping out of her mouth, all the dumb stuff she was supposed to have gotten over years ago: growing up in her parents' silent apartment, the both of them always off overseas, and knowing they loved her, knowing they cared, but still feeling that weird gnawing thing in her stomach every time she'd had a sports day or a culture festival and the two people she'd most wanted to see there just… weren't. How fucking lonely she'd—
Anyways.
The point was he'd been so sweet about the whole thing, helped her get back inside and even made her dinner, and the food tasted like shit but no one ever cooked for her so she'd eaten it all anyways. Then they'd curled up on the couch and he'd put on some terrible anime for them to make fun of together , and by the end of the third episode she'd felt normal enough that embarrassment had started to creep in. Urgh, Lilia-chan, she'd said, and he was short enough it'd been a pain to lay with her head on his shoulder but she'd stuck with it anyways, you have to forget I said any of that stupid stuff, okay? You have to.
He'd tilted his head over so it'd tapped against the top of hers, and said, artificially light, Forget what?
See, this is what I like about you, Lilia-chan. You always know exactly what a girl wants to hear.
He'd laughed, and then reached over to take her hand, giving it a squeeze for good measure. It wasn't the first time they'd ever held hands—they were both pretty tactile people, as it turned out, and more importantly the looks they got from Diasomnia students seeing their vice-housewarden arm in arm with the magicless freak from Ramshackle were always hilarious—but she was strangely aware of it, this time. Suddenly unable to forget that they were alone together and she wasn't wearing a bra. Just you, Myuu-chan, he'd said. Just you.
Because he was nice, that was all. Because he was kind, and generous, and always knew how to say things that people wanted to hear. Just you, he'd said, as if it were true, even as she'd known it weren't. Just you, he'd said, to someone who hadn't known he was losing his magic until weeks later. To the idiot that hadn't known he'd planned to drop out of school until he'd sent her an invite to her farewell party, the carriage to take him away already outside. To the person who hadn't known—who hadn't known about—
"She was crazy beautiful," said Myuu, as if it were a passing thought. "Queen Maleanor, I mean. Like, damn, I think she was taller than me even without the heels."
Sebek at her side, carrying the Royal Egg (capitalization not optional), shot her a flat look. "Of course she was!" Even he couldn't shout halfway through climbing a mountain, his breath coming in slightly wheezy pants. Just like a dog, thought Myuu fondly. One of those eternally barking kinds that was always tiring itself out. "Her Majesty would naturally be a woman of incredible prestige, great intellect, and—of course—wondrous beauty!" He lowered his voice to add, "Who else could possibly give birth to—"
"Mallie-chan, yeah."
"Stop calling him that!"
Wow, it'd been a while since she got his voice to break that bad. "Shit, you're right, my bad." He squinted at her suspiciously, which was fair, as her planned follow-up was: "I meant Hornton."
"You little—you insolent—How dare you!"
She winked back at him. It wasn't as sparklingly cheerful as it could've been, but in her defense, she was currently climbing a mountain in the rain while wearing a pair of loafers she was pretty sure Crowley had fished outta the dump. "Careful, Bekkie-chan, you'll upset the baby."
"You…!"
Sebek scowled at her thunderously (ha!), before his eyes trailed back down to the egg and his frown went a little less irritated, a little more worried. Jeez. Reminding him this was a dream and dropping it wouldn't actually do anything hadn't helped before, so she doubted it would now. From in front of them, Silver, who was kindly carrying a dozing Grim in his arms, said gently, "Myuu-san…."
Urgh. She'd been trying to lay off the teasing given, uh, everything, but with the mood so heavy it was hard not to needle at Sebek, who always had the energy in him for one more ridiculous explosion. But Silver was right to be giving her that slight frown; there was no point in ratcheting up tensions. "Sorry, sorry," she said with as much sincere contrition as she could manage. "Just… thinking out loud. I'll have to ask her for hair care tips next time we meet."
…Not that… there would be a next time, she was pretty sure. Malleus hadn't made it a secret that he'd been an orphan, and running away from the castle'd felt pretty final, there. Maleanor hadn't seemed like the kinda person to push her kid on someone else unless she really thought there wasn't… there wasn't a chance for her to take care of it herself. Even if this were a dream, they probably wouldn't….
But this version of Lilia-chan, trailing at the end of their little party, didn't need to know that. Luckily Myuu was an expert at keeping up appearances, so her voice had come out all nice and even with that last line, like it was an actual thing she'd meant instead of a really bad, really obvious diversion. At least he'd seemed to have fallen for it—he snorted, and said, "She does absolutely nothing to wash it but roll in the mud and then rinse off in the lake."
He sounded so fucking fond. Spend a lot of time thinking about her in the bath? Myuu did not say, because she was not going to be a horrible person and take out her lack of actual relationship with Lilia on a version of him that didn't know her fucking name. Instead she managed, voice still easy and calm, "Dang, I'm jealous of her genetics."
Jealous of way more than that, but who cared? Though—ah, shit. It only occurred to her belatedly that in trying to dodge her own worst impulses she'd set herself up for a really obvious dig on her humanity. No one actually jumped in, though, against all odds. She glanced to her side. Sebek was staring down at the Royal Egg with a tangled little look on his face; the silence behind them felt pointed in the same general direction. She nodded at it and said, "Bet our little friend's going to grow up to have the silkiest, smoothest locks of all time."
He had, in fact. Myuu'd badgered him into letting her brush it once after a particularly windy day and found her efforts utterly pointless. Tangles, as it turned out, just bounced right off Malleus Draconia's hair. In that moment, despite everything, she found herself missing him so bad it felt like a physical ache. Malleus, who was always so easily pleased by her attention, her laughter, her time. Malleus, whose bright and obvious affection made her want to ruffle his hair and lie that everything would be alright. Malleus, who'd heard her call him her baby brother and smiled so unguardedly, like that was something he'd actually want.
Malleus, who didn't want to lose anyone, and who'd had trapped them all here in the dreamscape so they could never, ever leave. She wished she could be mad at him for all this; instead, she found herself sympathizing. Of course you don't want to say goodbye, she imagined telling him. That's normal. But Hornton, Mallie-chan, Malleus, you have to let them go. No one stays forever.
He'd get that little pout on his face about it, the one that always made her want to pinch his cheeks. He always had such grandiose dreams, his head eternally off somewhere in the clouds. More than a hundred and fifty years old and still such a kid, not able to understand the lessons Myuu'd learned at a tenth of his age. Nothing ever lasts, she'd tell him. No matter how much you want it to. So just let go. Just—
"Myuu-san?"
She jumped at the sound of Lilia's voice, the appellation at the end of her name so strangely polite. At some point she'd gotten lost in her thoughts and come to a stop, still staring blankly at the egg. The others were all looking at her; Myuu managed a laugh that sounded at least seventy-five percent normal and said, "Sorry, sorry! Just, uh, got a little distracted."
She could feel Lilia's eyes on her, searching her face with a little divot between his brows, and so in return she pressed her mouth into a smile and said, "C'mon, Lilia-ch—General, I mean! Let's keep going."
For whatever reason, he didn't take the out, just kept on staring before pitching his voice low enough that the others wouldn't hear and asking, "Are you… really alright?"
She stared back, smile bolted in place even as some weird fat lump suddenly rose up in her throat. He was just—he was so—fuck. Fuck. Obviously this had nothing to do with her; he hadn't even remembered her name for the first three days after meeting him like this; he was worried about making it to the other outpost; he only had so many people to rely on right now and she'd made it into that number through pure fucking chance; he didn't know her; he didn't remember her; she wasn't special; she wasn't—she wasn't fucking Maleanor. "Of course, General!" said Myuu, and felt dizzily grateful she'd remembered the title this time. "I'm just, ugh, really not feeling this rain. Kind of a bummer, y'know?"
She stuck her tongue out to punctuate the words, nose scrunched up, before giving him another grin. He was still frowning up at her, eyes darting over her face—before his expression leveled back out. "In that case, let's keep going."
Fuck. She felt sick. "Rodger-dodger!" she chirped, smiling, before turning back to Silver and Sebek and waving them on. Silver was giving her the exact same fucking look Lilia just had, and at her wave his frown unspooled in the exact same way, as he gave her a nod and then finally turned away. Shit. They really were so—
The little line between Sebek's eyebrows, meanwhile, had only deepened, but as he watched Silver and Lilia smooth back over he at the very least didn't open his mouth. Myuu jogged up a few steps to rejoin him, grinned and then elbowed him extremely lightly, mindful of the Royal Egg. It was still enough to get a squawk out of him, sputtering noise before he started, "Myuu-san, you—!"
"Enough chatter." The famed General of the Right's voice cut right between them in a low stern tone that brooked zero argument. "Save your strength for the climb."
"Yeah, Bekkie-chan—"
"That means you too, Myuu-san."
Really not special at all, she thought, with a strange dullness. "Gotcha, General," she said, and silently, calmly, she fell in line.