Lilia Vanrouge----The Price of a Smile (Part 1)
All 3(three) parts have been posted
They say the fae world revolves around the cost of truth.
Give a fae your likeness, and they may steal your face—wear it like silk, like a joke only they understand.
Give a fae your name, and they will always know when you are lying.
Give a fae your heart and— Well. That’s better left unsaid.
You learned this the way most mortals did: too late, and from someone already half-ruined by the knowledge.
“Tell me what happens,” you’d said once, voice hushed beneath the ancient boughs of Diasomnia’s outer woods. “I want to know. For my own safety, if nothing else.”
You remembered narrowing your eyes in contemplation afterward, staring at the shadows between the trees. It had seemed, then, that being anything more than a stranger to a fae was a terrible mistake.
A conclusion you would later realize was both correct… and useless.
“Why?” a voice had asked lightly.
You turned—and there he was.
Lilia Vanrouge sat upside down on a tree branch, red eyes gleaming with delight. His grin was too wide, each tooth too white, too sharp, as though the forest itself had learned how to smile improperly.
“Are you falling for me?”
I. The Fae Who Wouldn’t Leave
You did not fall for Lilia Vanrouge all at once.
That would have been too simple. Too clean.
Instead, he embedded himself into your life like a song you couldn’t stop humming.
He appeared where he wasn’t invited. Left gifts that were half-pranks, half-blessings. He learned your routines without ever admitting he was watching. Sometimes he brought food—sometimes he brought chaos.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people,” you told him one night as he leaned over your shoulder, chin resting far too comfortably near your ear.
“But then how would I see the look on your face?” he replied cheerfully.
You learned early that Lilia never answered questions straight. He redirected. Distracted. Twisted words into ribbons and tied them neatly around your throat.
Still, he listened.
When you spoke of fears, he tilted his head, attentive in a way that felt… dangerous. When you laughed, he looked satisfied, like he’d won something invisible.
“You know,” you said once, half-joking, “for someone so ancient, you’re weirdly invested in me.”
He hummed. “Investment implies I expect returns.”
“…Do you?”
“Oh,” Lilia smiled. “I already have them.”
II. Names, Faces, and Other Fragile Things
You never gave Lilia your name.
Not truly.
You dodged it, every time he asked. Offered nicknames, half-truths, titles. He accepted them all with suspicious ease.
Smart, a quiet voice warned you.
But Lilia never pressed.
Instead, he traded stories.
He told you about wars fought before memory learned how to write itself. About nights so old the stars hadn’t yet chosen their places. He spoke of love like it was a battlefield and loss like a familiar friend.
Sometimes, when you weren’t looking, his expression softened into something almost… lonely.
“You’re not like the others,” you told him one evening, sitting by the glow of drifting fae-lights.
“No,” he agreed. “I’m much worse.”
You laughed.
That was your second mistake.
III. The Almost-Confession
It happened on a night heavy with magic.
The forest was restless. The air tasted sharp, like something had been promised and not yet delivered.
Lilia stood too close.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said lightly.
“I haven’t,” you replied—then froze.
Red eyes flicked to your face, gleaming.
“…Ah,” he murmured. “That sounded like a lie.”
Your heart stuttered. “I never gave you my name.”
“No,” Lilia said, smiling slowly. “But you gave me something far more interesting.”
He leaned in, voice dropping. “Permission.”
Your pulse thundered. “That’s not how it works.”
“For humans,” he corrected.
Silence stretched.
“You should be careful,” you said finally. “Fae steal things.”
He laughed, bright and sharp. “Only what’s offered.”
IV. The Thing You Didn’t Notice
You never noticed when the forest began to recognize you.
Paths straightened under your feet. Thorns pulled away before they could bite. Creatures that fled others lingered near you, watching with knowing eyes.
You thought it was Lilia’s protection.
You were half right.
“You belong here,” someone said once, passing you by.
You didn’t ask what they meant.
You didn’t notice when mirrors stopped reflecting you quite correctly—when your smile lingered a second too long after you stopped smiling.
And you certainly didn’t notice the way Lilia watched you now.
Not with hunger.
With satisfaction.
V. The Ending No One Sees Coming
It ended on a night you finally told the truth.
“I think I love you,” you said.
Lilia went very still.
Then he laughed—softly, genuinely amused. “Oh, my dear.”
He cupped your face, thumbs warm against your skin. “You already did.”
“What?” you whispered.
“You gave me your heart the first time you stayed,” he said gently. “The first time you chose me over your fear.”
The forest shuddered.
Magic surged—not from him.
From you.
Your reflection in his eyes shifted—elongated pupils, too-bright smile, something ancient awakening beneath your skin.
“You asked once what happens,” Lilia continued, voice fond. “When you give a fae your heart.”
Your breath came sharp. “You take it.”
He kissed your forehead.
“No,” he corrected. “You grow one like ours.”
Memory crashed into place.
The reason the forest listened. The reason lies felt wrong in your mouth. The reason Lilia never asked for your name.
Because he already knew it.
You were never falling for a fae.
You were becoming one.
Lilia grinned, teeth sharp and delighted. “Welcome home,” he said.
And somewhere deep in the woods, the fae laughed—because the greatest trick Lilia Vanrouge ever played…
Was convincing you that you were human to begin with.
(There is Sequel of this divided into Part 1 and Part 2) alrady done and posted.
