Chapter 79: I've Got You (Her POV)
The portal hissed closed behind him, sealing the wound between realms. Malvor didn't move. He just stood there, shaking, the golden collar gleaming against his throat, a cruel brand of what had been stolen from him. I watched him from across the room. Silent. Steady. I didn't rush. Didn't call his name. I knew better. He was pretending again. Trying to summon my glittering king, my chaos-star, with a smile that was nothing but a shallow ghost. Rolling his shoulders back as if he could hold the weight of it all if he just lied to himself hard enough. But I saw his knees tremble. I saw his fists clenched so tight his nails broke his palms. Then I saw the collar, golden, cruel. It flared every time he swallowed down the scream trapped in his throat.
"Hello, my sweet," he rasped. That wasn't his voice. That was a ghost wearing his skin. I crossed the room. No hesitation. No fear. Just love, steady, ruthless, endless. He tried to stand straighter as I approached, like he could make this easier for me. Tried to be the shield instead of the ruin. The moment my hands touched his chest, He broke.
He collapsed into me with a sound that ripped the air apart, raw, gasping, nothing like the confident god who lived on swagger and chaos. His knees slammed the floor, hard enough that the ground itself shuddered. His arms crushed around my waist, dragging me down with him. His face pressed into me, my stomach, my ribs, my heart. Anywhere he could hide, anywhere he could pretend he could crawl inside me and escape the world.
The sobs came. They tore through him like a storm made of knives. Ugly. Helpless. Wretched. He made sounds I didn't think gods could make, like a wounded animal digging its own grave with broken teeth. Still, I didn't pull away. I didn't hush him. I just knelt there with him, stroking through his hair, down his spine, across the trembling planes of his shoulders.
"I know," I whispered, again and again. "I know. I know. I know."
Every tear that struck my skin cut me open. Every shuddering gasp broke me in half. He clung tighter. Like if he let go, he'd die. Maybe he would. Because Malvor hadn't bowed for himself. He had bowed for me. Minutes, or hours, bled away before his sobs dulled to ragged breaths. His hands still trembled against my ribs, but the frantic clawing was gone. He was just… here. Small. Human. Real. I pulled back enough to cup his face. He tried to turn away, tried to hide the shame burning in his eyes. I didn't let him. Gently, I tilted his chin up. My thumb brushed his bruised cheekbone.
"You don't have to pretend with me," I told him softly. It shattered something new inside him.
His eyes squeezed shut, his jaw clenched against another sob, But the words escaped anyway. "I bowed to him." I stayed still. "I bowed," he gasped. "I bent my knee. I let him chain me." Silent tears cut down his face. "I would have fought. I would have died. Gladly." His forehead pressed to my chest, his voice breaking apart. "But if I had…" He choked. "…you would have died too."
The weight of it dropped between us like stone. Not revelation. Not secret. But truth, made unbearable by the sound of it leaving his lips. He hadn't just lost a fight. He had chosen chains to keep me alive. It had destroyed him.
"You're not weak," I told him fiercely, pressing my lips to his forehead. "You're not broken. You're not lesser. You are mine. And you came home to me."
He made a sound then, low, shuddering, fractured. His hands, bruised, battered, lifted to my face like I was the last star left in his sky. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "For not being enough... For kneeling... For letting them chain me again."
I kissed the inside of his wrist, soft, reverent. "You were enough the day you smiled at me," I said. "And you will always be enough."
My hands moved over him, searching. I found the collar first. Gold. Heavy. Wrong. It pulsed under my fingers, and he flinched. I didn't pull away. Then my hands traced lower, his runes. My heart split open. They were dead. Gray. Silent. Ash instead of laughter. Aerion hadn't just beaten him. He had silenced him. I swallowed hard, rage burning in my throat, but I didn't show it. Not yet. Instead, I kissed his collarbone. Soft. Slow. Right over the fused chain. "I see you," I whispered into his skin. "I see what you did for me. I am going to put you back together."
He made a sound then, half disbelief, half desperate hope. I summoned my magic, warm and golden, and let it flow through my palms. Not power. Love. I cupped his shoulders, his chest, his ribs, where bruises bloomed, where magic slept. I poured myself into him. Not demanding. Not forcing. Just offering. Deep inside, something flickered. A spark. A laugh remembered. He sagged into me, breathing out a sound that was almost a sob, almost a prayer. His arms circled me again, but this time, not to cling. To thank. To trust.
I cradled his head against my chest, my magic threading through him like silk over shattered glass. No demands. No expectations. Only love. Only healing. The wildest god in the realms curled in my lap like a boy who had fought too long and too hard. For the first time in what felt like centuries, Malvor slept. I kissed his hair. Soft. Sacred. "Rest now, my Chaos," I whispered. "I'll carry you the rest of the way." When he is whole again, I will burn the world for what they did to him.
I woke to a sound that didn't belong. Not the hum of Arbor. Not Malvor's usual restless shifting. A choked breath. A tremor.
"No!" "Don't!" "Please!" "Stop!"
I bolted upright. Malvor thrashed beside me, limbs jerking like he was being ripped apart in his sleep. The golden collar around his neck glowed, dull at first, then sharp, vicious. His back arched, and I saw the scream clawing up his throat, trapped, strangled. The collar flared. Too late, I saw it. Light exploded out of the chain, cracking through his tattoos. His chaos script, once alive, once dancing. lit up like molten glass. Not with power. With pain. The runes screamed before he did.
It hit him, my untamable, glittering god whimpered like a child. I didn't think. I lunged, pressing my palms to the collar. The divine metal hissed under my touch, burning me instantly, but I didn't care. I shoved my healing into him, forcing golden light against that cruel chain. The collar fought me. Bit me. Seared my nerves. Still, I held on. My skin blistered, blood filled my mouth, copper and ash sharp on my tongue. Malvor gasped. His eyes flew open, wild, glassy, terrified.
"Asha—?"
I was shaking, crying, my hands raw and red, but I didn't let go. "I wasn't going to let it hurt you," I whispered, even as the pain flayed me.
He blinked at me, dazed, saw the burn marks crawling up my palms. The collar dulled beneath my touch, its hunger cut short. He reached for my hand, trembling, and pressed a kiss to the ruined skin. "I—"
I brushed his cheek with my fingers. "You're safe," I told him.
I meant it. Even if I had to bleed to keep it true. He sagged into me, his whole body hollowing with the words he forced out: "I bowed to him..."
My hands found it, the collar. I traced it with shaking fingers. Golden. Heavy. Wrong. It pulsed once, vile and alive, and he flinched. But I didn't let go. He didn't tell me right away.
"I didn't tell you," he said suddenly, voice low.
I blinked. "Tell me what?"
His hand lifted, slow, shaking, to the collar around his neck, touching it like it was both sacred and damned.
"These," he said, rough, "weren't always chains."
I stared at him. "They weren't a punishment. Not at first."
His eyes closed briefly. I could feel the shift in him, the quieting of his chaos. The weight of memory.
"They were me," he said. He took my hand and guided it to the base of his neck, where the first link shimmered, almost like a brand. My fingertips brushed metal, cool, dulled, heavy with something ancient.
"They were chaos," he murmured. "Living, breathing. Symbols written into my being. They shifted with my emotions. They laughed when I laughed."
My heart ached. I'd seen them so many times. Alive. Vibrant. Moving like they were part of him.
"They used to glow," he said. "Not with pain. With life. With magic." I watched his face shift. The grief there wasn't sharp. It was old. Familiar. Tangled with love. "They were beautiful," he whispered.
He laughed. Not joy. Bitterness. A hollow sound. "I used to say they made me look dramatic as hell." I smiled. Barely. "But they weren't for show," he went on. "They were a gift. A reminder. A symbol of what I was made for."
I asked quietly, "What were you made for?"
He looked at me. No smirk. No pretense. Just Malvor.
"Balance," he said. He exhaled hard. The collar caught the low light. "The Creator Itself made me."
I didn't speak. Just listened. He needed this. "I wasn't born," he said. "I was forged. Designed. Chaos given shape. Given laughter. Given a mouth too big and a heart too soft." He ran a hand through his hair and winced when his fingers brushed a healing burn. "But I wasn't alone." I stayed still. Didn't breathe.
"There were two of us." I knew before he said it. "Aerion," he whispered. "The other half." His fingers brushed one of the dull runes along his ribs, more ghost than touch. "Where I was chaos, he was order. Law. Structure. The unmoving line to my spiral. The blade to my flame."
He exhaled again. Slower. Heavier. "We weren't enemies then. Not even rivals. We were function. Balance. I unraveled. He restored. I broke the cycle to begin again. He kept it stable." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I danced. He held the rhythm."
Gods, my heart hurt.
"He didn't hate me at first," Malvor said. "He didn't fear me. Not yet. We understood each other."
"What changed?" I asked.
He met my gaze. Steady. Sad. "I did."
I swallowed hard.
"I evolved," he said.
"I watched mortals stumble and rise. I changed. Not because I had to, because I wanted to." His voice softened. "They laughed in the fire I started. Made art from rubble. Told stories of gods they'd never seen. Me. They whispered my name in alleyways and cathedrals." He paused. "And I fell in love with them for it." My throat closed. "I wasn't supposed to change," he said. "I was supposed to be the destroyer. The undoing. But instead..." He shrugged, helpless. "I became something new."
"You became better," I said.
He didn't respond. Not right away. Because he wasn't finished. "But Aerion-" his voice fractured a little. "He didn't change. Couldn't. Wouldn't. He stayed what he was made to be. Pure order. Fixed law. He stayed still because he thought he was already the answer." Silence stretched. "He looked at humanity and saw rot. I saw potential." Malvor's hands clenched, then eased. "He saw emotion as instability. I saw it as evolution. Love, pain, pleasure, loss, they move us forward. He wanted to freeze the divine as it was. I wanted to keep it dancing." His voice hollowed out. "And so... he called it corruption."
I inhaled slowly, grounding myself against the weight of his words. "He didn't see you as his opposite anymore," I said. "He saw you as his flaw."
Malvor nodded. "He decided balance was a mistake." He stared at the ceiling, as if trying to read constellations only he could see. "And domination... was the correction." His expression was distant. "He didn't betray me because I was dangerous. He betrayed me because I was different." He touched the collar again. "Aerion didn't forge new chains. He just whispered the old commands."
I laid my hand over his. It didn't burn. "He couldn't understand you."
"He didn't try," Malvor said. His voice had no sorrow now. Just truth. "I wanted balance. He wanted obedience. I wanted to break patterns. He wanted to preserve them." His gaze found mine. "In the end... I became the chaos he feared most."
I dragged my fingers along his collarbone, down to one of the broken runes. "Because you didn't just break the world," I said. "You adapted." His breath caught. Just a little. "And he never forgave you."
I leaned over him. My lips brushed the hollow of his throat. "You're not the failure, Malvor. You're the evolution."
He made a sound then, half disbelief, half desperate hope. I lit my palms with healing, soft gold light spilling from me into him. Not force. Not power. Love. I touched his shoulders, his chest, his ribs. Poured myself into the bruises, the silenced runes, the broken edges of his being. Deep inside, something flickered. A whisper of chaos. A laugh remembered. Malvor sagged into my hands with a sound that broke me open, half sob, half prayer. He looped his arms around me again. This time not to cling. To trust. I cradled his head to my chest, my magic threading through him like silk woven over broken glass. No demands. No expectations. Only love.
The Trickster King, the god of laughter and storm, curled in my lap like a boy who had fought too long and too hard. For the first time in what felt like forever, He slept. I kissed his hair, soft and sacred.
"Rest now, my Chaos," I whispered. "I'll carry you the rest of the way." When he is whole again, I will burn the world for what they did to him.