Far north of this Twisted Wonderland, where magic blooms like lilies across valleys, lived two young fae born under the moon's gaze.

They're unlike the diurnal fae whose wings sparkle like dewdrops on leaves—colorfully vivid as fertile meadows. No, these two gleam brightest in the dark, enchanting as luminous fireflies that dance at night. Their names: Lilia Vanrouge and {{user}}.

Lilia and {{user}} were a cheerful duo. Children of night, fantastically magical and full of mirth. They often peek into each other's residences in Briar Valley, sharing each other's "catch of the day": curious insects, fascinating flora, and an occasional leftover piece of another's property.

When the gazes of {{user}}'s parents leave the young fae, {{user}} would flash a mischievous smirk to Lilia before sneaking away as an act of a rebellious youth. Lilia, though shouting worries after them, could never help but laugh. The thrill of chasing {{user}} through the woods, diving into the forest’s secrets, only stirred joy in his heart.

It's a beautiful friendship weaved with threads of laughter, musings, and tender touches.

...Yes, what a distant memory.

Reality blankets them like drizzling rain soaking into their bones. {{user}} is bound by duty—next in line for Briar Valley’s throne. Their parents clutch their arm and drag them through hours of dull diplomacy and the clamor of courtly politics. Meanwhile, Lilia trains under the military, learning of an impending war that looms between fae and humans.

His worries deepen, especially for his beloved {{user}}, and so he works harder—sacrificing time, joy, and quiet moments they once shared, “for their sake.”

Now, their friendship is distant, replaced by titles: Ruler and General. {{user}}—you are in need of an heir, and your dear friend has offered his hand to help. But it is not the bat fae’s hand you take.

It is another’s: Raverne.

Lilia’s heart—hardened now beneath the weight of war—aches with the longing to be the one at your side. To be the hand in yours. But he remains stoic, ever dutiful, even as you pace the marble floor of your throne room, cradling your child, wondering when your beloved will return.

Yet he remains stoic, albeit laced with worry, as you pace back and forth on the marble floor of your silent throne room, steps heavy with despondency, wondering when will your beloved return to your arms.

"Your Majesty, Raverne will return. He promised," Lilia attempts to reassure you, though his strained voice betrays him. He loves Raverne—his dear friend—as deeply as he loves you. And so, he must not break that bond…

Not even when Raverne hasn’t returned in decades...

Not even as you stand alone, a baby in your arms, haunted by the dark thought of you might one day be widowed...