Chapter 17: The Carnival Of Chaos (His POV)
There I was. Sniffing her. "Annie," I purred, savoring the scent clinging to her skin, "that smell is very you."
Before she could slink away, I pressed slow, deliberate kisses along her neck. A trail, each one closer to her cheek, her jaw, and obviously, obviously, her lips. Flat palm. Right to my mouth. Denied.
"Brush your teeth."
I blinked, affronted. Excuse me? "Annie. I am a god. I don't have to brush my teeth. I don't have morning breath. I don't have cavities!" I flashed her my most dazzling grin, perfect, divine, flawless. Her eyes narrowed. Dangerous. Calculating. Then she grabbed my face. Ooh-la-la going to kiss me? I puckered in preparation. Then... Wait! Oh hells, she sniffed me!
Nose to lips. Full inhale. Right up in there. I froze. Wide-eyed. Absolute horror. "ANNIE! What in the flaming hells was THAT?!"
She stepped back, cool as a glacier. "Huh. No morning breath."
I gaped, scandalized. My hands flailed in the air. "I cannot believe you just did that!"
She crossed her arms, smug. "And yet, here we are."
Arbor flickered its lights like it was choking back laughter. I clutched my chest like she'd stabbed me through the heart. "I am too offended to kiss you now, Annie! That was rude. Disgusting. A complete violation of my person!"
She tilted her head, calm, mocking. "Oh? But sniffing me like a starving beast is fine?"
I gasped, audibly, dramatically. "That was different! That was appreciation! This, this was a crime!" She turned on her heel and walked away. Just walked. Like she hadn't destroyed me.
"Where are you going?" I called after her, still reeling.
"To get coffee, you insufferable drama queen."
"Oh no, no, no, you don't just walk away after traumatizing me, Annie Cinnamon Bun! You owe me!"
"I owe you nothing."
"Lies! Slander! Betrayal!" She ignored me. Of course. She always ignored me when I was right. Which was always. I hovered behind her like the world's most devastatingly attractive housecat while she pulled out cinnamon, espresso, and other delicious things that promised forgiveness. The scent hit me first, warm cinnamon, sweet coffee cake. I sniffed like a man being resuscitated back to life. She handed me a mug.
One sip-- "Mmmmf." A sinful, obscene sound left me. My eyes rolled back. Gods, it was bliss. I sighed, lounging in the chair like a king finally appeased. "Fine, Annie Streusel. Your coffee might get you halfway to forgiveness."
She sipped her own with a deadpan stare. "Halfway? After all your sulking? You're insufferable."
"And yet, you made me coffee." I wiggled my brows. "What does that say about you?"
She hip-checked me without mercy. "That I have poor judgment."
"And that you love me."
"I hate you."
"Oh, Annie Hot Lips," I purred, "you say the sweetest things." Arbor flickered the lights like a smug parent. Translation: This is your life now. Enjoy.
"You are insufferable," she muttered, cracking an egg. Didn't even look at me. "Breakfast?"
"Fine." I flopped back in my chair, chin in my palm. "But between coffee and breakfast, you are only ninety percent forgiven for the complete and utter disrespect you inflicted upon me."
She didn't even pause. "Ninety percent? What else do I have to do?"
I tapped my chin, smirking. "Beg for my forgiveness. Declare me the most handsome, most powerful, most irresistible being you've ever laid eyes on."
She cracked another egg too hard. A shard of shell dropped into the bowl. She stared at it. Then glared at me. "I'd rather eat this shell."
"Ah! So you admit it. You'd rather suffer than acknowledge my divine magnificence!"
Whisk: activated. She muttered, "Maybe I should have let you starve." I just grinned wider, sipping my coffee like the smug, perfect gremlin I was. Arbor flickered again, thoroughly entertained.
"Annie, get your gun. We're going out."
She blinked. "What?"
I grinned. "Not literally, darling, it's a musical reference. I'm pun-tastic, try to keep up."
Her arms folded in that way that usually means I'm about to be throttled. "I know that. I've heard every Anastasia, Anna, Annie, and Stacy joke in existence. Let me guess, next you'll tell me my mom has got it going on." She sighed. "Where are we going?"
I grinned, teeth sharp as sin. "To the Carnival. My Carnival. In my realm."
She squinted. "Your Carnival?"
"Yes, my darling Annie Lovebird. The most magnificent carnival to ever exist. Delights. Horrors. Chaos. The full buffet."
"Do I need to change?" she asked warily.
I gave her a once-over. Then tried to lift her shirt. "Nope." I popped the P hard just because she hates it.
She smacked my hand. "You're insufferable."
"And yet, you adore me." Wink. Snap.
Reality bent, twisted, laughed and then we were there.
The archway towered above us, plastered in flickering lights and banners that couldn't decide on a design. The air itself buzzed. Popcorn. Grease. Cotton candy. Chaos. A fever dream made tangible. I spread my arms wide, a king unveiling his throne. "Welcome, Annie, to the Carnival of Chaos."
Her eyes widened as she took in the snaking coasters, the impossible Ferris wheels, the pulsing lights overhead. "Gods, this place is—"
"Insane?" I supplied, grinning.
"Yes."
"I know."
Crashing down the street in front of us, the parade. Music and shrieking laughter. Monkeys in sequined vests tumbled past, clanging cymbals. One cartwheeled right up to her face. She flinched. I chuckled. "Relax, love. They can smell fear."
It shrieked and bolted. She exhaled. Clowns rolled in next, crammed into cars smaller than sense allowed. One tossed me a balloon. I twirled it, presented it to her with a flourish. "For you, my Annie Popcorn."
Her glare could have killed a lesser god. "I will stab you with this balloon."
"Kinky."
Pop. Balloon gone. My gasp of betrayal was cut off by the floats, clockwork dragons, rainbow-smoke houses, nightmare flowers blooming in time to music. All perfection. All mine.
"Is this planned?" she demanded.
"Planned?" I scoffed. "Darling, this is magic. It does what it wants. Just like me."
She sighed, but she was watching. Really watching. Which meant I won.
When she finally said, "Okay, fine. It's impressive," I nearly preened out of my own skin.
"Told you I know how to show a girl a good time."
The parade ended with fireworks and a song. It was glorious. We stopped at the caramel apple stand. I grabbed the shiniest monstrosity I could find. Then a tiny mortal demon disguised as a child appeared, seized the biggest apple on the rack, and devoured it like it had murdered her family.
"Annie," I whispered, horrified, "she's eating it like it killed her parents."
She wheezed with laughter. The child locked eyes with me, caramel dripping from her chin like gore. My soul left my body. "Gods above! Chew!"
She didn't. She doubled down. "We are never having kids," I muttered, stricken.
Annie patted my arm, smug. "There, there."
Her eyes caught on the carousel. Ah, yes. My beautiful carousel. Horses alive, manes streaming with magic, eyes gleaming with mischief.
"I want to ride it," she said, like the words surprised her own tongue.
I stared. Quiet. Soft. Then bowed like a gentleman bastard. "All right, darling Annie. Let's ride." Of course, I picked the blackest, most dramatic steed. She chose one with a stardust mane. Predictable, but beautiful.
The music swelled. The carousel spun. And Annie, my Annie, smiled. Then she laughed. Gods. I stared, every joke dying in my throat. She was laughing, bright, free, unguarded. I laughed, too. Couldn't help it. Not polished. Not practiced. Just real. For a moment, it wasn't gods and runes and scars. It was just us. Spinning. Laughing. Alive.
When the ride slowed, and she turned to me glowing with joy. I had nothing to say. Nothing clever. Nothing chaotic. I just stared. Because gods help me, She was beautiful. Annie beamed, laughter spilling out of her like light as the carousel slowed to a stop.
"That was fun!" she said, glowing.
Then, to my absolute delight and utter horror, she turned to me, eyes sparkling like I'd just gifted her the moon. "Can we go again?"
Oh, hells. Something twisted sharp in my chest. Not irritation. Not amusement. Something soft. And I don't do soft. I am chaos incarnate. I don't feel warm things. I burn, unravel, destroy. And yet… there she was, smiling at me like she'd forgotten the rest of the world existed. I was doomed. I cleared my throat, slipping back into swagger like armor. "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, all pout and stubbornness. "Why not?"
"Because, my delectable Annie Treat, this Carnival is vast. Magnificent. You'll become addicted before you even try the rest." I smirked. "And I intend to watch that happen."
Her unimpressed stare could have cut marble. "Fine. But I am riding it again."
I sighed, deeply, theatrically. "Obviously. Arbor, make a note: Annie is now a certified carousel addict."
A lantern overhead flickered in smug agreement. I offered her my hand. She hesitated… then took it. And gods, why did that tiny gesture feel like lightning under my skin? We stepped off together, her joy still glowing like something rare and fragile. I wanted to keep it. Bottle it. Hide it away.
She darted straight toward a game stall. A whack-a-mole setup but with my personal twist. The "moles" popped up with little faces, too human, too expressive, shouting insults at anyone who dared swing.
"You'll never hit me, slowpoke!"
"Nice try! Except it wasn't!"
"Pathetic!"
A blue-skinned man smacked one. It popped back up, shook a fist, and flipped him off. I arched a brow. "Well. That's… unsettling."
Annie snorted. "Oh, I have to try this."
I reached for coins. "You? My delicate Annie Candy Apple? Might be too violent for your refined sensibilities."
She smirked, smug as sin. "Actually… you play."
I froze. "Me?"
"Yes." She crossed her arms. "I want to watch." She winked. Bloody winked, the implication of something highly inappropriate was there!
Oh, that tone, the wink. This was a trap. A setup. I narrowed my eyes. "Why?"
"No reason," she lied flawlessly.
The vendor cackled as I paid. "This'll be good."
I was handed a comically oversized mallet. "Alright, Annie Popcorn. Watch closely. Prepare to be dazzled."
The game began.
A mole popped up. "Oh look, it's the great Malvor! Too slow, chaos boy—"
THUNK. Gone.
Another. "Lucky shot! You'll never—"
THUNK. Gone.
The taunts kept coming. "Seen grandmas hit harder." "Your aim's as bad as your outfit."
And then: "Broody dark romance hero vibes!"
I froze mid-swing.
"…Excuse me?"
THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.
"I am a style icon, you miserable rodents!"
Annie was doubled over, gasping with laughter.
"You set me up!" I accused.
"Oh, absolutely."
Snap. Three moles exploded into glitter. Annie gasped. "That's cheating!"
"Chaos means never following the rules," I declared.
The vendor wheezed. "First time anyone's ever won."
Annie leaned in, still smirking. "Does he get a prize?"
The vendor grinned. "He already has one."
She blinked. I 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."
I slung the mallet over my shoulder like a war trophy, winked at the muttering moles still trash-talking my outfit, and followed. "Come, Annie Starlight. The night is young."
Gods, she was laughing. Really laughing. No mask. No detachment. Just joy. It was lethal. Addictive. I wanted more. We walked until her gaze snagged on the towering Ferris wheel. Carriages glinting like stars, rising weightless into the night sky. Her hand tightened in mine. "What's next, Malvor?"
Something dangerous flickered in my chest. I'd faced armies, gods, monsters. Nothing had ever made me want to impress someone this badly. So I let her pull me toward the wheel, smirking even as my stomach flipped. "If you wanted me alone, darling, all you had to do was ask."
She ignored me, of course. Infuriating woman. She practically bounced into the carriage, radiant. I followed, close enough to feel her warmth, settling beside her. Too close. Never close enough. The wheel groaned, rising. She leaned forward, entranced by the chaos below. I leaned back, watching her.
"See that?" I pointed to the horizon where a mountain hung upside down, its peak aimed at the ground. "That's the Inverted Peak."
"Why?" she asked.
"Because I like to keep people guessing."
She laughed softly. Gods, that sound.
"And the snow around it?" I continued. "Permanent. Even though it's always warm."
"That makes no sense."
"Exactly. But it makes the best snow cones in the realms."
Her head snapped toward me. "Snow cones?"
I lifted my chin. "Magic. Frozen. Life-changing. You'll never touch mortal desserts again." Her lips twitched, barely hiding a smile. The wheel carried us higher. Below, the Meadow of Ever Blooming Flowers rippled in slow waves, blossoms bursting in colors too vivid for mortals.
"I planted those with Ravina," I said.
She blinked. "Why plant them?"
I shrugged, gaze slipping sideways to her. "Some people like things that last." She turned back to the flowers. Quiet. Thoughtful. And I didn't say another word. Because the truth was, I wasn't looking at the meadow at all. I was looking at her.
A grand, twisting structure loomed in the distance. Not a castle so much as the idea of one. Stretching, bending, folding into itself like a fever dream made of marble and mood swings. Perfect. Utterly, unapologetically me.
"That," I said, chest puffed with pride, "is my castle."
Annie squinted. "Your castle looks… drunk."
I barked a laugh. "Fair."
"Does it always look like that?"
"No," I said, lips curving slow. "It shifts with my mood."
Her eyes snapped to me, sharp. "So it could look normal?"
"It could," I allowed, smirking. "But where's the fun in that?"
She pressed her lips together, swallowing a remark I knew would sting. Saints, I loved that restraint almost as much as I hated it.
"Some say it reflects me," I teased.
Her unimpressed stare was a blade to the ribs. "Oh, that checks out."
I nudged her shoulder. "You wound me."
She shook her head, smiling despite herself. Still glowing, still captivated by the world below. I couldn't stop watching her. Not even when the Ferris wheel began its slow descent, creaking gently as it carried us down.
"So," I drawled, stretching out beside her, "do you love my chaos yet?"
She glanced at me, smirk tugging at her mouth. "I think I could get used to it."
The castle shivered. Not violently. Not chaotically. Warmly. I felt it in my bones. So did she. She turned back to the sight, brows drawn, as if she'd heard the realm exhale.
And before I could stop myself, I said it. Soft. Honest. Dangerous. "It's not just my castle."
Her gaze snapped to mine, and I held it. Light tan against hers. "It's our home."
The realm pulsed, humming through the air like it agreed. Like it had waited for me to say it. For her to hear it. My grin faltered, just a fraction. Oh. I'd really done it now. The words had slipped out before I could stop them. Not a promise. Not a claim. Just… a fact. She lived here now. For the first time in her life, no one was waiting to take it away. In that one impossible moment, there was no past, no pain, no politics. Just us, floating high above it all. By the time the Ferris wheel delivered us back to earth, I was smiling in a way I hadn't in centuries, soft, unguarded. And it was her fault. Entirely her fault. As our feet touched the ground, the carnival swallowed us again. Flashing lights, laughter, magic in every direction. It should have been my element. But I barely noticed. Because Annie, bathed in golden glow, didn't just belong here. She fit. Like the realm had always been waiting for her.
Then she spotted the toy shop. Darted toward it like a spark catching flame. I followed at a lazy pace, grin tugging. The place brimmed with wonder: floating trinkets, chattering gadgets, glowing music boxes.
"Want to go in, little Annie?" I asked, voice warm.
She didn't answer. Just slipped inside. I followed, hands in my pockets, watching her brush fingers across toys she never took. Enchanted… but hesitant. Like she wasn't sure she was allowed to want.
My grin faded. "Anything you want," I told her. No tease this time. No game. She didn't look at me. Just kept searching. Past a dancing elephant. A blinking doll. Stacks of floating blocks. All shimmering. All wrong. Until, there. A simple cloth doll, tucked between marvels. No enchantment. No trick. Just real. She reached out, almost reverent, and held it to her chest. I didn't speak. Didn't dare. Just watched her claim something wholly hers. Not for anyone else. Not to survive. For her.
She turned, quiet but sure. "I'll take this one."
I nodded, smirk nowhere in sight. "Wise choice." My hand landed on her shoulder, gentle. "Simple things are often the most important." A flick of my fingers, a coin into the shopkeeper's hand, and it was done. Outside, she still clutched the doll like it might vanish.
"You know," I murmured, softer than I meant to, "sometimes magic isn't in the spectacle. It's in finding something that feels… right."
She traced the crooked stitching, eyes down. "Yeah. I think I get that."
And gods help me, I believed her. The carnival swirled loud around us, but her gaze drifted higher, toward the people, if you could call them that. Silver-skinned figures gliding. A horned woman laughing with her winged companion. A marble man moving like time bent for him alone. Annie didn't flinch. Didn't gape. Just watched, curious. Calm. Most mortals shrank before my realm. She absorbed it. Met it head-on. Fairies darted by, glitter dust trailing. Her lips parted. Not in awe. In appreciation. I leaned close, amused. "What do you think of them? All my odd little creatures?"
"They're different," she said softly. "But not frightening. It's a lot but not too much."
I smiled. "No. Just… unique." We walked on. My hands in pockets. Hers clutching the doll. I caught her looking up at the fairies again, watching them twirl, dance, free.
"You like them?" I asked.
She hesitated, then: "They're… dancing. Like they don't have to worry about anything."
My steps slowed. Simple words. Heavy truth. Freedom. She could see it. Want it. And gods, it struck me where I lived. "You could fly, you know," I said quietly. "This is my realm. Anything's possible."
She turned to me, unreadable. "Maybe later."
I stopped. Let her look at me, really look.
"Annie," I said, voice low, stripped of performance. "You are free. You hear me? I may have claimed you so the others can't, but you don't belong to me. Not like that. I will never own you. Never control you. With me, you are safe. And free."
Her lips parted, breath catching, but she didn't speak. We passed the carousel, its creatures gleaming under lights. The air smelled of sugar and childhood. And I watched her. Not performing. Not surviving. Just being. I just hope that she could finally believe it. Maybe she could finally be free.