"Annie, get your gun. We're going out."
She blinked. "What?"
Malvor waved a hand. "Don't actually get a gun. It's a musical."
Annie folded her arms. "I know that. I've heard every Anastasia, Anna, Annie, and Stacy joke ever. Where are we going?"
"To the Carnival. My Carnival. In my realm."
She squinted. "Your Carnival?"
He beamed. "Yes, my darling Annie love bird—the most magnificent Carnival to ever exist. Delights. Horrors. Chaos. The full buffet."
She sighed. "Do I need to change?"
Malvor gave her a once-over, then tried to lift her shirt.
"Nope."
She smacked his hand. "You're insufferable."
"And yet, you adore me." He winked and snapped his fingers—
Reality twisted.
Suddenly, they stood at the entrance to something massive: an archway covered in flickering lights and shifting banners, each one trying to outdo the last. The air was thick with noise and scent—popcorn, hot dogs, sugar, madness.
Annie stepped onto a patchwork of glowing tiles, some gleaming like gemstones, others cracked and shifting beneath her feet. Overhead, lights danced like living things—red, blue, green—casting strange shadows as they spun.
Somewhere, a calliope wailed a tune equal parts circus and fever dream.
Malvor spread his arms wide. "Welcome, my Annie, to the Carnival of Chaos."
She stared at the coasters snaking through the sky, Ferris wheels spinning lazily overhead, the whole realm pulsing with impossible energy.
"Gods, this place is—"
"Insane?" Malvor supplied, grinning.
"Yes."
"I know."
Annie and Malvor stood side by side as the parade surged forward, all color and chaos.
Annie crossed her arms, watching with a mix of awe and suspicion. Malvor looked like a kid on festival day.
The first performers were monkeys in shimmering costumes, clanging tiny cymbals to an offbeat rhythm. One cartwheeled straight to Annie, grinning with wild eyes.
She flinched. Malvor chuckled. "Relax, love. They can smell fear."
The monkey shrieked with joy and bolted.
Annie exhaled. "What is wrong with your animals?"
"They're spirited."
Next came the clowns—crammed into tiny cars, bouncing along with disturbing precision. One leaned out, tossed Malvor a balloon, which he twirled before presenting it to her with a flourish.
"For you, my Annie Popcorn."
She glared. "I will stab you with this balloon."
"Kinky."
She popped it without blinking.
Malvor's mock gasp was cut short as the floats rolled in.
A clockwork dragon clanked past, its glowing eyes locking onto Malvor.
He winked. It winked back.
Annie rubbed her temples.
Next, a house floated by, billowing rainbow smoke, unable to decide if it was a cottage or a castle.
Then a flower—huge, twisted, alive—bloomed in time with the music, its petals flickering between beauty and nightmare.
"Is any of this planned?" Annie asked, watching a dancer twirl under a glowing umbrella as fire-breathers lit up the sky.
"Planned?" Malvor scoffed. "Please. This is magic, my darling Annie Taffy. It does what it wants—just like me."
She watched as acrobats leapt between floats, the crowd roaring with delight.
It was chaos. Wild. Mesmerizing.
And Malvor… wasn't watching the parade.
He was watching her.
She sighed. "Okay. Fine. It's impressive."
Malvor's grin turned triumphant. "Told you I know how to show a girl a good time."
As the final float vanished into the distance, Malvor stretched with a satisfied sigh. "Well, Annie, solid performance, wouldn't you say?"
Annie, still processing the sensory overload, just hummed.
"Speechless? My realm has that effect."
She ignored him, her gaze catching on a nearby vendor stacked with glossy, caramel-drenched apples.
Malvor followed her line of sight, grinning. "Annie Cupcake, do you require sustenance?"
"I require you to stop talking."
"Same thing." He gestured. "Pick your poison."
She chose a modest, tooth-safe apple. Malvor grabbed the shiniest one he could find.
Before he could brag, a blur zipped past—a little girl, maybe seven, locked on the apples like prey. She pointed to the largest, most absurd one on the stand. The vendor, lost in carnival magic, handed it over without hesitation.
Annie sipped her drink, eyes wide, as the girl gripped the apple with both hands—and devoured it.
Malvor froze mid-bite.
The child shredded that apple like it owed her money. Caramel dripped from her chin, her tiny face disappearing into sugar madness.
"Annie," Malvor whispered, "she's eating it like it killed her parents."
Annie wheezed, wiping tears. "This is the most horrifying thing I've ever seen."
The girl paused, apple still jammed in her mouth, locking eyes with Malvor like a sugar-drenched demon.
He recoiled. "Gods above—chew!"
She did not. She doubled down.
Malvor turned, stricken. "We are never having kids."
Annie patted his arm. "There, there."
Malvor tossed his apple aside, appetite gone. He leaned against the stall, watching her.
There was always more with Annie.
But for now, he let her be. Let her enjoy the moment.
And gods, she looked happy.
When she finished, she licked the caramel from her fingers, lips curling in lazy satisfaction.
"That," she said, "was excellent."
Malvor straightened, ignoring the warm flicker in his chest.
"You're welcome, Annie Pie. But this—" he gestured around them, smirking, "is just the beginning."
She tilted her head, eyes gleaming.
"Good," she murmured.
And damn it—he wanted to know what she meant by that.
Annie's eyes lit up at the sight of the carousel—lights swirling, music drifting like a lullaby.
And the horses… they weren't carved. They were alive. Their manes flowed, eyes gleamed with the same mischief as the god beside her.
She stepped forward, drawn to it.
"Annie…" Malvor teased, curiosity slipping through his usual mockery.
"I want to ride it," she said, almost surprised by her own voice.
She turned, expecting a sarcastic quip—but he was just watching her. Quiet. Soft.
"All right, darling Annie," he said, gesturing forward. "Let's ride."
The vendor bowed dramatically. Malvor accepted the show like royalty. Annie rolled her eyes and chose a white horse with a mane like stardust, caught mid-gallop.
She hesitated only briefly before climbing on, hands gripping the golden pole.
And then—excitement.
Not fear. Not obligation. Just… joy.
Malvor picked the blackest, most dramatic steed—of course he did.
The carousel spun, the music swelling around them.
The horses rose and fell, and Annie smiled. A real one.
Then—she laughed.
It was bright. Free. Hers.
Malvor's head snapped toward her, every comeback dying on his lips.
She was laughing—and he couldn't help it.
He laughed, too.
Not polished. Not practiced. Just real.
The ride picked up speed, their laughter blending into the carnival's wild song.
For a moment, it wasn't about scars or gods or rules.
It was just them. Spinning. Laughing.
As the carousel slowed, they caught their breath, reluctant to let go.
Annie turned to him, glowing.
Malvor had nothing to say.
He just stared.
And gods, was she beautiful.