Annie beamed, laughter still lingering as the carousel came to a stop.
"That was fun!" she said, glowing.
Then—to Malvor's delight and horror—she turned to him, eyes sparkling. "Can we go again?"
He stared.
Something sharp twisted in his chest.
Not irritation. Not amusement.
Something worse.
Something soft.
He was the god of chaos—he didn't do soft.
And yet there she was, smiling like he'd handed her the moon.
Oh, hells. He was in trouble.
Malvor cleared his throat, slipping back into his usual swagger. "A second ride? Annie Lollipop, I'd love to watch you giggle like a child for hours—"
She opened her mouth.
"—But no. Not yet."
She huffed. "Why not?"
"Because, my delectable Annie Treat, this Carnival has so much more to offer."
She gave him a look, unimpressed. "Fine. But I am riding it again."
He sighed dramatically. "Obviously. Arbor, make a note—Annie is now a certified carousel addict."
A nearby light blinked in response.
With a smirk, he offered his hand.
She hesitated… then took it.
And gods, why did that make him feel so damn warm?
They stepped off together, her joy still radiating like a spark he couldn't look away from.
She held onto that happiness like it was something rare.
Because it was.
And as they walked—her laughter echoing, her hand still in his—Malvor, for once, didn't want to let the feeling go.
The carnival pulsed around them, but Annie was already darting toward a game stall.
Malvor followed—straight into madness.
A whack-a-mole setup… but the "moles" were too expressive. Too alive.
Each time one popped up, it stuck out its tongue, shook a tiny fist, or shrieked an insult.
"You'll never hit me, slowpoke!"
"Nice try—except it wasn't!"
"That was pathetic!"
Malvor raised an eyebrow. "Well, this is… disturbing."
A blue-skinned man slammed one on the head. It shook itself off, flipped him off, and vanished.
Annie snorted. "Oh, I have to try this."
Malvor reached for coins. "You? My delicate Annie Truffle? Might be too violent for your refined sensibilities."
She smirked. "Actually... you play."
He blinked. "Me?"
"Yes." Arms crossed. Smug smile. "I want to watch."
Oh no. This was a setup.
He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"
"No reason," she lied beautifully.
The vendor grinned as Malvor handed over coins. "This is gonna be good."
He was given a comically oversized mallet. Heavy. Real.
"Alright, Annie Popcorn. Watch and weep."
The game started.
A mole popped up. "Oh look, it's the great Malvor! Too slow, chaos boy—"
THUNK.
Another. "Lucky shot! You'll never—"
THUNK.
The taunts kept coming.
"Seen grandmas hit harder."
"Your aim's as bad as your outfit."
"Broody dark romance hero vibes!"
Malvor froze mid-swing.
"Excuse me?"
THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.
"I am a style icon, you miserable rodents!"
Annie was doubled over with laughter.
"You set me up!"
"Oh, absolutely."
Malvor snapped his fingers. Three moles exploded into glitter.
Annie gasped. "That's cheating!"
"Chaos means never following the rules."
The vendor howled. "First time anyone's actually won."
Annie leaned over. "Does he get a prize?"
The vendor glanced between them, then grinned. "He already has one."
Annie blinked. Malvor smirked. "Didn't know you were part of the prize pool."
Her eye roll was legendary. "Let's go before you get even more smug."
Malvor slung the mallet over his shoulder like a war trophy and winked at the moles still muttering about his pants.
"Come, Annie Starlight. The night is young."
He smiled—not for the win, not for the moles.
But because she was laughing.
No mask. No detachment.
Just joy.
And hells, it looked good on her.
"Next time," he said, tossing her a wink, "I may need backup."
She raised a brow, smirking. "Obviously."
Malvor chuckled, shaking his head.
Obnoxious woman.
He'd never liked anyone more.
They walked on, both still smiling. And Malvor?
He felt something flicker in his chest.
Something dangerous.
Something he liked.
The carnival buzzed around them, alive with sound and color.
But Malvor barely noticed.
Not when Annie turned to him, smiling, and asked, "What's next, Malvor?"
Gods help him.
He'd never wanted to impress someone more.
Her hand tightened around his as she dragged him toward the towering Ferris wheel.
Malvor, delighted and mildly horrified, let her. "If you wanted me alone, darling, all you had to do was ask."
She didn't respond. Of course she didn't.
And somehow, that only made him grin wider.
Because she was laughing—really laughing—gazing at the ride like it was made of stardust and dreams.
Honestly? That was more impressive than the wheel itself.
Not that the ride wasn't spectacular.
Each seat was a velvet throne, its golden arms etched with moving designs. The carriages didn't just rotate—they floated, spun, and tilted, weightless in the sky.
No safety belts, of course. This was Malvor's realm.
Falling only happened if he wanted it to.
Annie tugged him forward, practically bouncing with excitement.
"This way!" she said.
"Oh yes, Annie Starburst. Lead the charge before your joy tears the realm apart."
She ignored him again.
Infuriating. Adorable.
She hopped into their seat, grinning wide enough to break the sky.
Malvor joined her, settling in close. Too close. Her warmth wrapped around him like a spell.
The wheel groaned and began its climb.
Annie's eyes locked onto the chaos below—flashing lights, spinning rides, the pulse of a realm that had always just been an extension of him.
Malvor watched her instead.
And hells, it was his favorite view.
"See that?" he pointed to the horizon, where a mountain floated upside down, its peak aimed at the earth. "That's the Inverted Peak."
Annie frowned. "Why?"
"Because I like to keep people guessing."
She laughed softly.
"And the snow around it?" he continued. "Permanent. Even though it's always warm."
"That makes no sense."
"Exactly. But it makes the best snow cones in the realms."
Her attention snapped back. "Snow cones?"
"Magic. Frozen. Life-changing." He lifted his chin. "You'll never settle for mortal desserts again."
Her lips twitched.
The wheel climbed higher.
Below them, a meadow bloomed in slow-motion waves—flowers bursting in color, never fading.
Malvor gestured. "Meadow of Ever Blooming Flowers. They just… exist. Forever."
Annie stared, light reflecting in her eyes. "Why?"
He shrugged. "Some people like things that last."
She didn't answer. Just watched the meadow, eyes quiet and thoughtful.
And Malvor?
He didn't say another word.
He didn't need to.