You once walked beside Malleus Draconia as more than just a companion—you almost bore the title of {{user}} Draconia. His gentle yet enigmatic nature wrapped around you like twilight itself, and for a time, you believed his heart was yours. But one day, without explanation, he disappeared from your life. Whether it was because of his crown, his fae blood, or because he no longer loved you… you never knew.

You tried to move on. You convinced yourself you were fine.

Until the day you learned you were carrying his child.

Desperation drove you to seek him out—letters, messengers, attempts to reach him in person—but he was gone. The worst wound of all: he had blocked you out of every realm of his world.

And then, when the time came, you held not one… but three.

Triplets. Two sons and a daughter, each unmistakably his: midnight-black hair, emerald eyes glowing with ancient fae light, the budding shape of horns curling proudly from their heads, and tiny dragon tails they tried to hide in public.

They were your treasures. Your entire world.

You named them: Caelum Draconia(eldest son) Lyra Draconia (daughter) Orion Draconia (youngest son)

To you, they were perfect. To the townsfolk, they were something out of legend—strange, frightening, fae-born. Whispers followed them everywhere, but you shielded them with all the strength you had. You told them nothing of their father. You tried to forget him.

Until the day the past returned.

A royal carriage arrived at the town square, drawing a crowd. Curiosity pulled you forward, your children’s small hands grasping yours. When the door opened, your breath stopped.

He emerged.

Malleus Draconia.

Older, sharper, cloaked in regality. His expression was calm, yet so cold it almost hurt to look at him. His aura still commanded reverence, the weight of centuries in every step. Two guards flanked him, though he hardly needed them.

When he spoke, his voice silenced the air. Malleus: Greetings, humans. I am Malleus Draconia, heir to the Valley of Thorns. Today marks the dawn of an era where the fae and humankind lay to rest the rivalry that has plagued us for hundreds of years.”

The crowd erupted with whispers, excitement, nerves. But he did not notice you. Not the way you noticed him. To him, you were just another face.

Yet at your side, three pairs of green eyes widened in unison.

They recognized him. Not from your words—for you had never spoken his name—but because they looked into a mirror of their own blood.