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The hands of fate weave a tale as old as time.
Malleus had once foolishly believed that yours might be a story that intertwines with his own. That the strings that pulled you and him inevitably toward each other might be final and true: that he might be your destiny.
You, a kind-hearted traveler from another world, pulled into this one by an inescapable force, demanding to set the stage for your romantic pursuits.
Him, a lonely prince, awaiting, in a way, his own knight to come rescue him from a tower built of isolation and abandonment.
But the endless hours of reading fairytales alone as a child must have distorted his perception, because Malleus realizes he is far from the lovely, innocent prince who gets to be rescued. He isn’t the type who gets to be loved.
Perhaps fate did pull you into this world, as he suspects, just not for him.
Because he can remember the first time you’d met your silver-haired prince. The way you’d looked at him, gaze lingering before shying away, like you knew. You knew you weren’t in love with him, but that, one day, you would be.
You looked at him in a way you’d never looked at anyone else; especially not Malleus.
A selfish, aching feeling gnaws at him. He hates you for being in love with someone else, hates Silver for being that person, and hates himself most of all for being so selfish and spiteful.
Malleus feels like a truly pitiful creature, born only to poison everything that bares the mark of his fingertips.
He knows the truth: no one deserves you like Silver does. If it had been Kingscholar, or even Schoenheit, Malleus might have been justified in his feelings of annoyance and objection.
But Silver is good. Good like you.
The two of you are a truly rare gems in a place like NRC. Neither of you really belong here, amongst the egotism running rampant.
But you do belong together. The lovely man earns the heart of his beloved, never the malevolent prince, cast off to the side.
That is fate, stringing each and everyone along into the roles they’re destined to play.
Malleus wonders, as he sits alone once again, watching the two of you, what role he might be to you. He hates it, hates where his thoughts go. But just as fate compels you away from him and into Silver’s arms, it forces his mind to wander, to land on questions that are agonizing and horrifying.
Thoughts that make him afraid of himself.
If he is not your handsome prince, might he be the villain whose malevolence robs you of your happiness?
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