Credit for this oneshot goes to Ciaxlia and edb5678. You guys wanted to see a fic where Malroth and the Builder have a little one, and at first I wasn't sure I could do it, but I did the best I could!

I hope y'all like fluff cuz there's a lot of it ahead.


In which Malroth and the Builder create a life.

The Ultimate Form of Creation

Malroth was known for being the master of destruction. He destroyed everything just by touching it; he'd watched countless materials crumble in his hands and he'd had quite a few attempted creations literally blow up in his face. Even after becoming separate from the true god of destruction, and even after successfully (finally) making a medicinal herb for the Builder back in Malhalla, he still wasn't at her level of expertise. He could make basic things like torches, but even then, they weren't great quality, and so he decided to stick to destruction since that was what he was good at.

The Builder was the vessel of creation. No matter what she made or did, hope and happiness bloomed in her wake. Whereas Malroth inspired fear, the Builder inspired courage. Malroth was her opposite in every single way, even down to looks, and while she worked to build, he enjoyed destroying whatever tried to get in her way. During the course of their adventures, they became acquaintances, then best friends, and eventually... They fell deeply in love with each other.

Even after their marriage, a huge event that Lulu insisted on overseeing every little detail to, Malroth still mostly relied on the Builder to make things. He helped her whenever he could (there was no way in hell he'd let her build their house all by herself), marveling at his wife's ability to create anything and everything from practically nothing.

They were happy for a time, but a few months after their wedding, the Builder began to act strangely. She found herself exhausted more often and became rather emotional—one moment she'd be fine, the next, she'd snap at her husband only to fling her sobbing self into his arms minutes later, apologizing up and down. Malroth was beginning to wonder what was going on with her; the Builder never ate large amounts of food, yet suddenly, she was inhaling two whole platefuls of food every night. She was constantly peckish, and this constant hunger almost always transformed into her complaining about her weight (which was crazy in his eyes; she was always a thin little thing, where was all this "fat" she claimed to have?). She seemed to be bursting with all kinds of emotions. The Builder usually got a little cranky when it was "that time of the month," but lately, "that time" seemed to be almost every day. He didn't know what to make of it.

When she wasn't constantly hungry, she was curled up in bed, groaning and clutching her belly. Nausea plagued her at least once every week, sometimes even resulting in vomiting, and Malroth began to wonder if she'd caught a bug or if a monster had cursed her. Plus... He'd never admit this to anyone aloud, but because of his heightened senses, he'd started noticing a change in his wife's natural scent. It wasn't a good or bad change, but it was enough of a change that it grabbed his attention.

What was going on with her?

One day, after a few weeks of letting her insist she was fine, Malroth had had enough. The constant barrage of her back-and-forth had him at his wit's end.


"I'm starving! Can you please grab me a few of the leftover dinner rolls we brought back from Lillian's?"

He brought the basket to her. She scowled at it. "Wait, never mind, I've already eaten so much... I'm getting fat, aren't I?"

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am! You think I'm huge, don't you?"

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do!"

He sighed. "I don't think that at all, and if you changed your mind, I'll bring these back to the kitchen."

Malroth turned on his heel to do just that when she stopped him. "On second thought... Maybe just one more, I'm really hungry today."

She'd barely even brushed her fingers against the rolls when her face turned white. "Ugh... Okay, no, I feel like I'm gonna be sick."


Something was obviously wrong with her, but Malroth figured it was nothing a medicinal herb couldn't fix. He decided to make it himself, and besides, he'd been able to make one before; he should be able to do it again. The events of Malhalla still seemed like they'd happened yesterday, so he made for the Builder's workbench. He managed to successfully craft one after several failed attempts and returned to their house, where the Builder was sitting on the front porch. Her strange new scent wrapped around Malroth and he brushed it off, instead focusing on the mission at hand.

"Hey," he called, instantly grabbing her attention. Her face lit up as soon as she saw him, and Malroth wondered how it was that even after all this time, that smile made him feel all sorts of fuzzy inside.

"Hey you," she greeted. "Perfect timing. I need to tell you something."

"Before you do, here." He pushed the medicinal herb into her hands. "This should help whatever's been making you feel sick. I know it's not much, but it should help. I made it myself."

The Builder examined the herb briefly before placing it aside. Malroth went to protest when she took his hands into hers.

"That's not the only thing you made," she giggled, and she placed his hands over her stomach. The master of destruction was about to ask what she meant when he felt it: her belly was solid and slightly swollen, like she'd swallowed a balloon. It wasn't soft, so it wasn't fat, and a solid belly meant...

Malroth had stared at her in disbelief, his brain refusing to work for a few seconds. He was shocked. He knew about the birds and the bees, he knew about parenthood despite not having parents himself, but he didn't think he'd ever be capable of something like this. He couldn't create furniture much less a person. He'd actually helped in creating one of the biggest things a person could ever create—a life.

"Builder, what... How... You mean you're—"

"Yes. We're having a baby!"

He'd lifted her up, spun her around, and peppered her face with kisses. Once they'd broken the news to the others, everyone began working on making furniture, toys, and clothes for the baby's arrival. Digby and Dougie proclaimed themselves to be the coolest uncles the little one would ever have; Lulu announced she was to be the child's godmother by default while Bonanzo insisted he would be the godfather. Everyone, monsters included, were positively thrilled to hear that their favorite builder and destructive fighter were going to be parents.

Over the course of the past nine months, the Builder's belly had grown and expanded to the point where Malroth was sure if it grew any bigger, it would pop. And apparently, earlier that evening, the Builder had popped, hence the reason he was currently pacing outside the small building that contained his screaming wife and an array of women who were fussing over her. The entire Isle of Awakening seemed to be holding their breath alongside him, hoping and praying that no complications arose for either the mother-to-be or her newborn child.

Malroth had wanted to stay with the Builder. He'd held her hand during the first hour of labor, her grip enough to nearly crush his fingers, but once she'd started crying and screaming, Babs comforting her and patting her face with a cold washcloth while Rosie and Anessa instructed her to start pushing, he began freaking out. He wasn't sure how to help his wife; all he knew was that he wanted to ease her pain however he could. Molly eventually had to usher him out into the cool night air and explain that the Builder was in good hands, to leave everything to them. This was a woman thing; they would ensure everything went smoothly.

That had been three hours ago. The Builder had been in labor for almost four hours now and he was getting impatient; what was taking so long? Was she alright? Was the baby alright? Were they having a boy or girl? Malroth continued pacing and gnawing at his fingernail as he anxiously awaited news of his wife's well-being.

Suddenly, the Builder's agonized screaming stopped and Malroth heard a new sound pierce the night. It started off as a small cry, then grew to a loud wail. The destructive man nearly jumped when he felt a hand clasp his shoulder.

"Congratulations, my boy," Bonanzo chuckled. "You're officially a father."

Dougie, Digby, Jeremiah, Gerome, Haydin, and Perry all congratulated him as well, but he felt numb. Was he... Was he really a father? He didn't feel like a father; was he supposed to feel the same as he always did? He wasn't sure how to react. That wailing... That was his child? Was he really someone's dad? His brain felt like it'd short-circuited.

Molly eased herself out of the building after a few minutes and as the door opened and closed, Malroth could hear the wailing dying down to a hushed gurgle. His eyebrows knitted together with worry as he jogged up to the older woman.

"What's going on? Is she okay? How is she, how's the baby?" He had plenty more questions, but Molly held up a hand to silence them, a bright smile on her face.

"They're fine, dearie, both mother and child. Come with me—there's someone very special who's waiting to meet you."

When Malroth stepped inside, he could hardly see his wife past the crowd of women around her. They were all cooing and gushing over something, and as they began to clear out at Lulu's insistence, Malroth was finally able to see the Builder propped up against the headboard. She looked like she'd been through hell, her sweaty, damp hair mussed about. She was pale and looked a little weak, but... When she looked up and saw her husband standing at the foot of her bed, her expression was pure happiness and love. She looked happier than she had in months, and in her arms was a squirming white bundle.

"Hey you." The Builder's voice was slightly hoarse from all the crying and screaming she'd done. Malroth had so many questions he wanted to ask, but his mind seemed to be blank in that moment.

"Hey." He glanced at the bundle in her arms, but right now, he needed to know how his wife fared. "How are you doing?"

"Much better than earlier," she joked, smiling warmly. "Pretty sore and exhausted, but she was worth it."

Malroth nodded, relieved and satisfied to hear that the Builder was fine, but then it hit him. "Wait... Did you say 'she'?"

"Yes. Come meet our little girl."

A daughter. Malroth was the father of a baby girl.

He moved closer and sat next to his wife so he could better see the baby. She was tiny, but she was a lovely combination of her parents: she had her father's pointy ears, tan complexion, and dark hair, but she had her mother's cute button nose and bright blue eyes. He watched as she alternated between staring up at him and her mother, still squirming and fidgeting in her mother's arms as little noises escaped her.

"She's... She's beautiful," he whispered, and she truly was. Malroth thought she was perfect; he didn't think he'd ever seen a more beautiful baby in all his life. It was still strange to think that he'd helped create such a lovely, adorable being.

"She takes after you." The Builder leaned down to playfully nuzzle her nose against her daughter's, earning the tiniest, most heartwarming giggle Malroth had ever heard. "Yes, you look a lot like your daddy, don't you? My beautiful girl~."

"She's so small." He wrapped an arm around the Builder's shoulders, relieved that she no longer seemed to be in the pain she'd been suffering for the past four hours... And relieved that he finally got to meet the little one who'd been growing in her belly all this time. "Is she healthy?"

"As healthy as can be," the Builder assured. She smiled proudly at her little girl before returning her gaze to his. "Do you want to hold her?"

It was a simple question, but it still struck fear within his heart. How many times had he attempted to merely pick up crafting materials only for them to crumble beneath his hands? What if when he tried to hold his daughter, the same thing would happen? What if she literally fell apart? How could he ever forgive himself if he accidentally destroyed his own child?

"I... I don't think that's a good idea." At his words, the Builder's head whipped towards him with an incredulous, almost hurt expression, and Malroth quickly amended, "Don't you remember what happened all those times I tried my hand at the workbench? What if... What if when I hold her, she..."

The blonde woman blinked before chuckling. "Malroth, this is much different. You've held my hand and done much more than that; did I ever explode?"

He shifted uneasily. "Well, no, but.."

"Mal." Love twinkled in her eyes. "Hold her. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

The Builder held the babe out to him and his eyes met hers in uncertainty. "H-how do I...?"

"Here, like this." Malroth shifted closer and the Builder showed him how to hold the cooing child so that her neck was properly supported. When she was safely in his arms, Malroth stared down at the little girl in wonder. She looked up at her father curiously, her eyes wide and innocent. He was amazed at her—she was only minutes old and she was already so curious about the world around her. She definitely took after her mother in that respect; he had a feeling he'd have his hands full trying to keep her from getting into all sorts of trouble when she was able to walk and talk.

A fierce love bloomed in his chest as he held his daughter, one of the most wondrous things he and the Builder had ever created. The baby gurgled and lifted an arm up, reaching towards his face, and he offered her his hand. Her little fingers curled around his thumb and she smiled, holding onto him, and his heart melted even more. In that moment, he knew he'd do anything to protect her, just like he'd do anything to protect her mother. He would make sure she had everything she needed, he would protect that little smile at all costs and make sure she was happy. He was wrapped around her little finger and he was already so proud of her.

"She likes you," the Builder whispered, her own heart overflowing with love for her husband and daughter. "She loves her daddy."

The little girl looked at her mother and cooed, another one of those heart-melting smiles appearing on her delicate features.

"She loves you too, you know," Malroth said, pressing his lips to his wife's temple. He'd never been one to cry, but in that moment, his eyes were watery. "I can't get over how perfect she is. Is she really ours?"

"I would know, I spent enough time bringing her here," the blonde joked, earning a chuckle from her husband. "She is perfect. She's perfect and she's ours."

Malroth was known as the master of destruction, a title that he lived up to. He was known for causing destruction, not creation. Yet that night, as he and his Builder cradled their newborn baby, he had to admit that even he, destructive tendencies and all, had managed to create something beautiful and extraordinary.