I woke up alone. Weird. But not alarming. Malvor disappearing without warning was, unfortunately, part of the domestic experience. Like creaky floors. Or haunted cutlery. I stretched, dragged a hand through my hair, and sat up. The room was quiet. Too quiet. I padded barefoot to the door and cracked it open, and immediately recoiled.
Glitter. Everywhere. Not dusted. Not sprinkled. Coating. Gold glitter. Purple glitter. Glitter shimmering in the shape of Malvor's smug face. The hallway looked like a birthday clown had exploded mid–Pride parade. There were banners. Multiple banners. 31 Days of Divine Delight! Malvor: Born to Be Wild and Hot! Your Favorite God's Favorite Month!
Streamers dangled from the ceiling. Confetti popped automatically from some unseen cannon. I hadn't even moved yet. I took one cautious step into the chaos. A disco ball blinked back at me.
"Malvor!" I shouted. Silence. "MALVOR. Where. Are. You?!"
The lights didn't respond. But the house did. Arbor creaked softly. Like a shrug. A house-shrug.
"Oh, we're doing this," I muttered. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Brigitte's voice echoed in my head. Set boundaries, darling. Even with chaos. Especially with chaos.
"Apparently," I sighed, stepping over a sparkly Malvor-shaped floor decal, "this is a new boundary."
One banner fluttered down insmacking me in the face. Birthday Month Begins: One God. No Chill. I slapped it out of the way. "Not even a fun kinky boundary," I grumbled. "Useless."
No Malvor. No smug trickster waiting to gloat. Just glitter-triggered confetti cannons detonating with every door I opened. I groaned. "Fine. Coffee first. Murder second."
I made one cup. One. I even whispered to it while it brewed: "This is mine. Only mine. Do not make me commit caffeine crimes."
Chaos glittered behind me like a taunt. I took a long sip. Then walked calmly back into the bedroom. Let the Realm of Mischief riot. I had my coffee. If he wanted to survive until October 2nd? He'd show up with apologies, a vacuum, and a second cup. I stared at the far wall. Let the chaos pulse and sparkle in all its glittery idiocy. With quiet finality, I took the last sip. Set the mug down.
BANG! A trapdoor in the ceiling blew open, releasing a burst of smoke, streamers, and the unmistakable sound of someone playing a trumpet badly enough to summon demons. Malvor descended from the ceiling like a possessed chandelier. Literally. Harnessed to some levitating golden contraption, spinning slowly, one leg draped over the side. He wore a crown. A jewel-encrusted monstrosity that twinkled, sparkled, and may or may not have included a built-in fog machine.
Behind him? A marching band. Where in all the realms did he get a marching band? Tiny fae in sequined uniforms banged drums and blew trumpets. One particularly angry goblin shook a tambourine like it owed him money. Malvor grinned. Sparkles rained down like divine confetti. "GOOD OCTOBER MORNING, MY ANGEL!"
I blinked."…Did you just come through the ceiling?"
"I descended, darling. It's different. Dramatic entrances are a birthright."
"You broke my ceiling."
"I improved your ceiling." The trumpet player went feral. Notes flew like arrows from a cursed kazoo.
"Cease," Malvor snapped.
The music stopped mid-blare. The goblin dropped his tambourine like it had betrayed him. Malvor landed, jazz hands and all, cape fluttering with enchanted wind. He dropped to one knee beside the bed and held out... A second coffee. Foam art swirled on top, delicate letters spelling: Queen of My Chaos.
"You only made one cup," he gasped, scandalized. "Have I taught you nothing?"
I took it. Sipped. Sighed. "I will murder you."
"You say that every year."
"This is the first year."
He gasped. "So you admit it's a tradition now?"
I glared. "I should've stayed with Ahyona."
"But then you'd have missed me. And the parade. And the private concert in the tub tonight. Harps. Fireflies. Maybe a goat."
"…A goat?"
"She's very talented."
The goblin lifted the tambourine and shook it once, apologetically. I sipped again. Closed my eyes. "Fine. Happy birthday month."
Malvor beamed like heaven itself had knighted him. I already regretted everything. I set the cup down, this time gently. With the kind of calm that only comes from sheer caffeine and emotional resignation. Then I reached for him. Took his hands in mine. He stilled. Even in full crown and glitter, my touch grounded him. His eyes searched mine. I didn't yell. Didn't scold. I just smiled. Soft. Clear. "Malvor," I said, "from now on, no chaos in the bedroom. Outside of sexy time, of course." His brows rose, but he stayed quiet. "This is a limit for me. Our room is… it's our space. I need it to feel safe. Still."
For once, he didn't pout. Didn't argue. Didn't spin it into a musical number. He just nodded. Then raised a hand and snapped. The trumpet died mid-bleat. The ceiling sealed. The glitter stopped falling. The band vanished like they'd been yoinked into another dimension by a very annoyed stage manager. Peace returned. Malvor turned back to me, crown slightly askew. His voice quiet. "No chaos. Got it."
I exhaled. Not with exhaustion. With relief."Thank you," I said. "I appreciate you respecting our space."
He kissed my knuckles. "You are my space," he murmured. Then added, completely straight-faced: "The goat's still available for private bookings, though."
I huffed a laugh against his chest, half exasperation, half helpless affection. "You're lucky I love you."
He grinned against my hair. "Luck had nothing to do with it. I'm devastatingly charming."
I snorted. "You're devastating, alright."
But I didn't pull away. And he didn't let go.