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thebeautyofdisorder · 5 years ago

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The Undone & The Divine (BBC Dracula) - Chapter 5

A/N: Okay...this took far longer than I expected it to, but to be fair for five minutes I was almost convinced to take a break and leave it at four. Five minutes is giving it too much credit, I think. But, either way - here it is. I hope you enjoy it. I labored over the last bits of this for far too long wondering if I was getting too ahead of myself, but... what the hell, right? Please reassure me with comments.

Rating: still T, for blood, language, and a bit of dubious consent/alluding to adult concepts

Pairing: Dracula & Zoe/Agatha Van Helsing

Chapters 1 & 2 Here - Chapter 3 Here - Chapter 4 Here

Can be found on AO3 - Right HERE -

Chapter 5

It was another two weeks before Zoe saw sunlight again. Not out of any kind of vampiric repulsion, but purely due to the epic workload she had set up for herself. She knew as much as she hated to admit it that Dracula was right. She had a limited amount of time to make good on her intentions and an expanse of scientific ground to break, more than she had ever envisioned for herself.

Worse, there was a level of occult knowledge that she needed to reacquaint herself with since she’d tossed it in the bin twenty years prior, but Agatha was at least useful in that respect. Granted 1897 was not the most ideal cut off, but it gave her a decent groundwork. What wasn’t useful was the obvious glee that overcame her in the presence of the monster Zoe had been taught from an early age was basically the devil incarnate. And it’s not as though the nun even disagreed with the assessment, save her belief in the literal devil causing a bit of a contextual conflict.

Zoe had always took pride in her stoicism, but Agatha was quite the opposite. She’d always found some sort of wicked, curious amusement in everything, even in the face of death – and vampires, apparently. Not that she didn’t have a very personal reason to be interested now. No, ignoring Dracula was no longer an option. Understanding him was the only way to fully understand herself, and whoever else the Count was no doubt soon to add to the ranks of the undead.

As much as she detested to admit it, she could feel herself changing – slowly, but surely evolving past the limits of what it had always meant to be human. Everything was different – the way things smelled, looked, tasted, felt… there wasn’t a sense unaffected. And with it had grown subtle, gnawing hunger that she was determined to repress – or, currently, find a safe way to sate. And she was close. So close. But without a few more key bits of information from the beast himself, there was no way to be sure.

She had let him be for now, since she knew they at least had time in that regard. Dracula was many things, but a total idiot was not one of them, and no doubt he’d taken notice of the pattern just as easily as she did. The longer he spent with each victim, the more ideal the transformation after death. Instant kills were a 50/50 shot at best. If he was on the lookout for another ‘bride’ – even if he’d found one, there was no way he’d waste his newly renewed hope by getting overzealous. Zoe alone seemed to be the outlier of that unspoken rule, but ingesting so much of his blood (and also being on death’s doorstep already) seemed to have been the push.

It wasn’t like she didn’t know where he was. In fact, she found that if she let herself focus on him too long she couldn’t seem to avoid getting a sort of passing ‘update’ of his current actions – whether she wanted it or not. Just the person she wanted to be mentally connected to. Though whatever the connection was, it seemed to be a two-way street as opposed to the sort of controlling thrall that he had over certain others. At least she hadn’t caught herself doodling ‘Dracula is God’ in the corner of any of her notepads, thank fuck for that.

After a couple of weeks, however, the peaks at his consciousness were becoming more involuntary – either that, or he’d found out a way to push them at her deliberately, which wouldn’t surprise her in the least. An array of miscellaneous throats, mostly – with the occasional face to go with them even, but a strangely short order of corpses. Not too surprising given his renewed intent to procreate, but she expected the body count would be still reasonably…abundant.

Despite knowing she should be relieved, Zoe felt a creeping sense of dread. How many people did he intend to turn? To keep up with his usual appetite he’d have to be keeping a menagerie of donors. Willing donors. For a brief, mindless moment she wondered to herself how the hell he was managing that. Her own voice (more or less) answered in a clipped mocking laugh, echoing out loud in the silence of her office.

Tall, dark, handsome, well dressed, charming – in a snakey sort of way with no particular sexual preference, in a city full of jaded, power starved people longing to escape from their problems, with a cynical attitude toward life and death? Christ’s sake, they were in the age of the opioid epidemic and the man was walking heroin. Literally. The world was doomed.

Ready or not, it was about time she stopped making things so easy for him, Zoe decided, packing up her latest round of experiments and locking them away. Just because she couldn’t kill Dracula (yet) didn’t mean that she couldn’t distract him - a thought that she was well aware originated more with Agatha than herself, but the scientist in her was still fully willing to embrace.

The methodology was...negotiable, they'd settled on vaguely as Zoe found her way quickly home to her flat.

Once she decided to figure out his location, it didn't surprise her that the count was 'on the prowl', but she did have to roll her eyes at his choice of venue. Apparently he was going to make following him inconvenient. It definitely wasn't a club she could just waltz into dressed like a science professor and blend in.

But this is good, he won't be expecting your intrusion.

...Or he's expecting me to show up in a lab coat and give myself away Zoe countered internally, becoming arguably far too comfortable with disagreeing with her own inner voice as she yanked out a little black dress from the back of her wardrobe and tossed it on her bed, along with her far more lived in leather jacket.

Fine. This was fine. If she could keep randy 20-year-olds focused on studying science instead of each other on a regular basis, she could certainly handle putting a wrench in a 500 year old man-child’s seduction techniques.

------

Of the numerous intrigues and conundrums the 21st century had wrought upon the Count, the notion of the vampire being not only a cultural topic of admiration but practically a fetish was one he had never seen coming. He was actually embarrassed it had taken him this long to fully comprehend and, in turn, utilize this phenomenon. It was true none of his earlier victims had really been surprised when his teeth sank into their necks, but the full scope of it had never really ‘dawned’ on him until baring his fangs had inspired one too many bouts of earnest excitement. It was frankly hilarious, not to mention convenient, though truth be told he was beginning to miss the charms of inspiring unholy terror.

Not that the initial euphoria didn’t quickly evolve into proper panic once the reality of exsanguination occurred to them – if he allowed it to. He sometimes did, particularly since he was losing patience with being told it wasn’t Halloween just before ripping into their throats. He opted not to keep those idiots around, more often than not. The undead didn’t need any more denial in its ranks - Zoe was already proving to be so far immune to his influence in every way, he did not need any more deviance.

It luckily hadn’t taken Dracula long to finally hit the smorgasbord: an entire dark room, filled almost entirely with dozens of willing, believing victims. So many nocturnal souls, full of wickedness and naïve delight at the mere thought of a creature such as him walking amongst them. Many of them even liked to already call themselves vampires, some in jest and others in actual earnest - artificial fangs and all! It was downright adorable. Now why should he, of all people, ruin their fun?

It never took very long to capture someone’s attention, and that particular night was no different save for the fact that his potential prey had suddenly turned their attention away from him and was having some unknown words whispered in their ear by a woman he vaguely recognized as the bartender.

“I…um, I need to go. Emergency,” The young woman stated in the broken persistence easily identified as that of an unpracticed liar, and she dissolved hurriedly back into the darkness from whence she came.

Dracula’s head tilted briefly in confusion, but then in realization he sighed as his eyes scanned and locked in a glare on the slender figure at the far end of the bar who was smirking at him.

Striding over with exaggerated reluctance, he leant against the surface at her side.

“What did you tell her?”

Zoe shrugged, still clearly pleased with herself. “Just enough to make you sound revolting. Not exactly hard to do.”

“No one likes a cock block, Dr. Helsing,” he accused with a raise of his brows, looking down at her.

Zoe chuckled aloud. “I think we both know your cock isn’t something to worry about,” she replied, eyes rolling at his apparent need to show off his modern vocabulary.

“Ouch,” he rumbled, amusement still glinting in the black pools of his eyes despite his attempt at a pout. “Should I be offended?”

“Is there even anything to be offended about?” She found herself asking, and briefly cursed Agatha’s ever-greedy curiosity.

The Count’s brows shot upwards, in either genuine surprise or a good ploy of it as he turned his body to face hers. “Are you asking if I’m, as you say, ‘fully functional and anatomically correct’? Oh dear, now I am offended.” It didn’t falter his smile.

“I just assumed you saw everyone as little more than happy meals with legs,” she said in, granted, unnecessary explanation for the question. Never in anything she’d seen or heard of his attempts to seduce or charm did he seem to be in pursuit of anything but dinner.

“I’m a man of many appetites, some just supersede others,” he replied simply, at first, though quickly amended. “And certain aspects of being a vampire does make it difficult to find a partner who will remain conscious or even survive the experience through to its conclusion.”

“Sounds like a self-control problem to me, though...I wouldn’t have thought the killing part to be an issue for you,” she uttered in return, more of Agatha’s intrigue popping out without her consent.

His eyes narrowed knowingly, as they always seemed to do when he sensed Zoe’s words were not always her own, though it didn’t stop him from responding.

“I may be undead, but I am no necrophile. I told you I like the lively ones, and I meant that. Even if the vast majority are ‘happy meals with legs’ that’s no reason to ignore what’s between them. Where do you think all that blood flows to when you’re aroused?”

“Sorry I asked,” Zoe clipped, eyes rolling again in sheer avoidance of his probing gaze.

“Maybe I ought to try some restraints,” he mused thoughtfully, ignoring her comment entirely and refocusing on his current ‘conundrum’ she’d been so kind as to bring to the forefront of his thoughts. “I fed from an interesting little dominatrix the other night…”

“For them or for you?” Zoe found herself snarking back, beginning to wonder if it was a better or worse choice to let a nun have this conversation in her place.

“Oh, them. It would keep them conscious a bit at least. When your saliva is a sedative, over-eagerness just breeds trouble. I don’t even know if they make anything strong enough to restrain me. Silver…if you believe the stories, though I’ve never tried it.” His brow quirked upward lasciviously at her, an obvious lure. “Perhaps you would do the honors?”

“Perhaps I should try to stake you, just to be sure. You never know, I could get lucky.”

“Now, now. We both know you’re not going to do that. Come on Agatha – don’t think I don’t know when it’s you, you always were a curious cat - if things went your way I’d still be locked in a box to prod at for the rest of eternity, all for the sake of extending your morbid curiosity. I was extending a courtesy with that offer. It could be the closest you’d get to satisfaction in that regard. Or any regard," he drawled, punctuating his already not-so-subtle meaning by moving in closer still, deliberately intrusive. He lived to infuriate.

Agatha’s first instinct was to aim a slap at his absurdly smug face just for the audacity, regardless of Zoe’s opposing instinct to ignore him entirely. Apparently the nun won out, though the speed in which her hands zoomed forward was an impossible thing, and as Zoe feared, a grave mistake. The older vampire caught her hand in his massive fist before it came within an inch of his flesh, with a look of pure satisfaction. In the same gesture, his other hand shot to grasp her throat and by the force of the movement alone urged her back from the bar and into the shadows just beyond it. The music was melancholic, but loud and just chaotic enough to drown out the faint growl erupting from his throat.

“Ooh. Look at you go. I think my blood really did do the trick, didn’t it? None of my brides, before or after their full transformation, could even come close to my speed. And you’re already halfway there. Not to mention completely immune to my power of suggestion yet still able to locate me, it seems – very, very irritating, but impressive. Any fangs yet?”

Struggling briefly in his grasp, she bared her teeth at him spitefully, showing off her teeth’s lack of points.

“Aw. What a pity,” he sighed, letting go of her hand, but kept her neck in his grip – not squeezing, but present and unmoving, nonetheless lest she try to attack him again.

“Still trying to fight it, aren’t you? Zoe’s just a stubborn thing, she wants to prove me wrong. But you…you are trying to protect her. From me…herself, I don’t know, but it’s only going to end up driving her mad.”

“It’s completely feasible to resist the blood lust,” Agatha persisted, meeting his steely gaze with her own. “She’s figured out how it works, what the vampiric body needs to function.”

“And I suppose you’d be the expert at resisting lusts, wouldn’t you?” His fingers tightened minutely around the long column of her throat, and his words were a harsh whisper that’s effect on her body mocked the very virtue it was pretending to praise.

“For once, Dracula, stop flattering yourself,” she spat, turning her head as much to look away from him – at anything but him - as his hold would allow.

“I never flatter myself. You stop elevating yourself. You’re not a nun anymore, you’re just another wayward soul. You’ve died twice trying to rid the world of me and we’re both still here. Take a hint.”

“Perhaps I’m still here to stop you,” she suggested, finally turning back to face him with a challenging lift of her brow.

The Count met her challenge with a look of utter acceptance , his face leaning down to hers in what to anyone else would be a clear threat - and to anyone else, it was exactly that. To a normal, non corrupt human his kiss meant instant submission, the predator incapacitating his prey.

“Then, by all means, stop me.”

She stood stiff in the face of his intimate approach, for a moment able to ignore any further context and simply prod at him.

"Your delusions won't work on me anymore," Agatha reminded him blandly, pushing breath out with each word just because she could.

This gave him pause for all of a moment, but it was seemingly only to observe her stubborn face with faint amusement.

"Good," he uttered against her lips with mocking simplicity, but before she could take another breath he was kissing her hard and to his utter relief, didn't get limp, clouded acceptance in response.

She let out a frustrated growl of her own in protest, more human than beast, though her attempt at clamping her lips closed in protest came a moment too late. He'd captured her lower lip between his own and she felt the sharp scrape of his canines as he pulled, still prominent without the animalistic haze of hunger.

Her initial will to resist buckled to make way instead for an aggressive refusal to be dominated - whether those forces had names or were shared equally between the Van Helsing women, he couldn't say, but instead of allowing him to ravage her mouth unopposed, or even to attempt to fight or flee as the Count half expected, she'd responded with equal fervor - out of lust or spite or both. Her blunt teeth bit down hard where his had only nipped and her previously limp hand found its way to the back of his head and anchored itself in his locks to counter the tightening of his grip on her neck.

The snarl that reverberated from his throat and into her mouth was every bit as bestial as hers was human, and his grip tightened dangerously just before forcing her backwards and away from him like he was embracing an open flame. She barely caught herself before crashing into a wall, but still looked on with unadulterated satisfaction as Dracula looked twice as shaken as she did in the face of his first kiss in 500 years that didn't end in immediate surrender. Men - alive or dead - were all the same.

After a moment, he caught himself, letting out a wicked chuckle in the face of her smirk. "We'll make a monster of you yet, Van Helsing," he assured her raggedly, bluster gradually returning to his stance and the set of his jaw as he watched her.

Zoe - and fully Zoe at that moment righted herself from where she leaned against the wall, adjusting her jacket, the satisfied look still in her eyes.

"Happy hunting, Count Dracula. Just don't expect me to make it easy for you."

And without looking at him again, she walked passed where he stood and headed in a leisurely stroll towards the exit, forcing her heart rate back to its normal deathly calm.

----

I’m not even sure what to say to this other than either I’m sorry or your welcome. I’m just going to tag everyone who’s nerding has inspired me to continue, regardless if you’ve showed any interest in reading or not. If you want to be tagged, let me know

Tag List: @charlesdances @bellamortislife @carydorse @break-free-killer-queen @imagineandimagine @my-fanfic-library @punk-courtesan @ohveda @wannabebloodsucker @hoefordarkness @mymagicsuitcase @crazytxgradstudent @itendedbadly @theplumsoldier @gatissed @allfandoms-writings @littlemessyjessi @vampiregirl1797 @desperatefrenchwriter @iloveclaesbang @ss9slb @dreamerkim @mephdcosplay @violetmarkey @alhoyin @thozaarmitage @girlonfireice@cipherwheeldecoder @crowley-needs-a-hug @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @iloveclaesbang

#bbc dracula #dracula bbc #dracula 2020 #claes bang #agatha van helsing #zoe van helsing #my writing #the undone & the divine

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rosywrites · 7 years ago

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The Beauty Within (Part 1/2)

Title: Reunited Chapter: The Beauty Within (Beauty and the Beast AU) By: ArisuChanSenpai (Visit my blog for AO3 link!) Fandom: League of Legends Ship: Jhin x Sona

Word count: 7755

Once upon a time, there lived a king in a grand castle surrounded by lush, green forests. He was given everything and anything he ever wanted, but he became obsessed with beautiful things. He would call the most beautiful people from all over the country to work in his castle and make it as beautiful as he envisioned it, even holding lavish dances to flaunt the elegance of his castle.

One night, he was called to the front door to see a shivering woman in a black cloak. Her skin was colored purple with lighter markings, her clothes worn out. She pleaded for shelter from the cold rain in exchange for a single rose, a flower the king adored the most.

But repulsed by her inhuman appearance, he rejected the woman’s offer, claiming that he could pick out a more beautiful rose than the barely blooming one she held. The woman warned him that he shouldn’t judge things based on appearance, for true beauty lies within.

The king scorned the woman’s warning and turned her away once more, going so far as to calling her a demon.

At his final refusal, the woman shed her cloak in a burst of glistening light, her skin now like a human’s without a horn, dressed in golden clothing—revealing an enchantress of stars. The king’s apologies fell on deaf ears, for the enchantress found no beauty underneath. Only a selfish and unkind king.

As punishment, she cast a spell to turn him into what he had called her. In addition, she spread the spell to the rest of the castle and its residents, her powerful magic hiding the castle in a mist and from the memories of others.

In the king’s claws was an enchanted mirror and the rose, which will bloom for ten years until he can learn to find love in the beauty within. If he could find love and earn their love back by the time the last petal fell, the spell would be broken. Otherwise, he would remain a demon forever.

Years passed, and the king slowly fell into despair at his wicked appearance. He could only wait for the last rose petal to fall. After all, how could someone ever come to love a demon?

What a small village this was. There must have been something beyond the forests and mountains surrounding this crowded place. And yet, only the hunters or merchants were allowed to traverse through the dirt trails into the forests. “To keep this village safe,” they say. Sea green eyes rolled at the notion as they gazed out into the horizon, the sun’s rays spilling out of the mountain peaks.

Sona sat by the window of her cottage while strumming her harp to the sounds of the birds chirping in the tree by the windowsill. She took a deep breath to take in the aroma of the autumn morning breeze and exhaled.

The view from her room sometimes made this small corner of the world feel a little bigger.

Her eyes glanced at an elderly woman spreading grains for the chickens in the coop. Her hands winced away from the strings as she slowly backed away from her window. Attracting attention so early in the morning wasn’t ideal. Especially for her.

Giving up on playing her harp any longer, she stepped out of her room with her parchment and charcoal to start making breakfast. However, her mother, Lestara, was already awake, stirring rice porridge in a pot and cooked eggs on a plate by the table. She knocked on the doorway four times in a rhythm to gain her mother’s attention. “Oh! Sona, good timing. Sit down, dear, breakfast is almost done.”

She took a seat and watched her mother pour the porridge into bowls and bring them over. She scribbled something onto the parchment and flipped it around. “Do you have everything you need for today?” she wrote.

“Of course, dear. I double checked everything and made sure I didn’t miss a thing.” Lestara poured soy sauce into her bowl and tested the taste. “I’ll be visiting the market after the hunt, but I’ll be sure to come back as soon as I can.”

Sona started writing onto the parchment again. “Will you be warm enough? It’s getting closer to winter, after all.”

“With the fur coat you and I made, I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” She hummed in satisfaction when the porridge turned out to be better this time. “Is there anything you would like from the market?”

“Perhaps more parchment? I’m starting to run out.”

“Other than parchment and charcoal, dear. You don’t have anything you would like me to get you?”

“I’m fine with whatever you give me, mother. You usually get me something I like anyways.”

Lestara chuckled. “I know, but I felt like you might want something specific. You know I’ll ask before every hunt, Sona.”

Sona giggled as she took a bite from her porridge. But she shook her head to indicate that she didn’t want anything specific. Everything her mother gave her was precious, but she always cherished the books her mother could chance to get her with the extra money left over from the profits. “Anything is fine, I promise.”

“If you insist, my dear daughter. How’s the porridge? I think I did a superb job this time.”

“A little thick, but it’s better than a soupy porridge.” Sona smiled and finished the rest of her breakfast with her mother to see her off after.

“Are you sure this is warm enough? You don’t need anything more?” she wrote, pointing to the fur coat around her mother’s shoulders.

“I’ve packed extra clothing aside from what I need, so don’t you worry.” Lestara ran her hand through Sona’s hair and smiled. “I’ll be back soon, Sona. You take care of the house for me, okay?”

Sona nodded and watched her mother take their horse and cart past the village gates, waiting until her mother disappeared into the woods. She sighed. Her mother was skilled in hunting, but Sona couldn’t help but worry whenever she went alone.

“You know, there are demons out there beyond these forests. Or, at least where your mother always goes,” a voice drawled from behind. She turned to see Yasuo standing behind her with his hand lazily placed on the hilt of his sword. “Your mother mostly goes alone, and that can be a great risk to her.” Sona was about to scribble something onto the parchment until Yasuo grunted and contorted his scarred face in distaste. “Don’t even bother. I’m not a man of reading words.”

She glanced at her writing on her paper, the Ionian characters rather blocky and stiff compared to their original, fluid form. Being adopted and taken to Demacia at a young age limited her study of her native tongue and writing, something that distanced her from the rest of the Ionians in this village. Despite being Ionian herself.

His eyes glanced at Sona and her writing on the paper before he turned around to leave. “For someone of our descent, you’re not really like us. You’d be better off doing work instead of reading or writing all day, don’t you think?” He wandered off with a listless drag in his step.

“Hmph,” Sona huffed out loud, her face hot in embarrassment. She watched Yasuo disappear into the sea of people walking or running about to get their tasks done.

Yasuo was known as the village’s protector and slayer of demons, according to the tales of the villagers who have gone hunting—demons or animals—with him in the forests. They said that he was the reason they could hunt and travel again. Before, demons had taken over the forests, perhaps spiriting away the trespassers who dared to step in their territory.

She never liked his crude and arrogant personality, Yasuo usually bragging about his kills and how he got certain scars.

Not to mention, he sometimes picked on her when she was without her mother, taunting her for her inability to speak. The worst of the worst in this village, she considered him to be.

With a sigh, Sona locked the door of the cottage and headed to a small, lonely building nearby, vines of ivy crawling on the walls. She pushed the door open, greeted by the smell of books and scrolls waiting to be studied. A slightly older woman with forest green hair poked her head out from the back.

“Oh! Sona, I was wondering when you’d be coming in. Here to borrow another book?”

She nodded as she scribbled something and showed it to the librarian. “Do you have something I can use to practice writing Ionian characters?”

Not many people knew how to read or write here. The librarian was one of the few people who knew how to read, but she was the only one who offered Sona the welcoming kindness the village lacked. But it was a place Sona frequented to escape from this small village into bigger worlds. Books were the one thing she could turn to for communication. Even if knowing how to read was frowned upon here, words made up so much of her world.

“Did Yasuo say something to you again?” Seeing Sona hesitate, the librarian shook her head as she scanned one of the shelves for an appropriate book. “That man is never up to anything good. Just keep ignoring him, dearie, he’ll leave you alone eventually.” Her face lit up as she grabbed a book and looked through the contents. “Aha! How about this one?”

Sona approached the librarian to see a book of illustrations and writing with it. She tilted her head to see an illustration depicting two children climbing a rope to the sky.

“This is a handwritten storybook of Ionian folktales. The writing in here is big enough to see each stroke properly to practice with.” She patted the back of Sona’s hand as she placed the book in her hands. “Your Ionian is proficient enough, but if you want to practice writing, I would highly suggest starting with that.”

Nodding thankfully, Sona sat down by a table and chose the story of a daughter of a poor farmer marrying a dragon prince. She copied a few words and repeated them as she read through the folktale. Time seemed to pass faster in the library, but it wasn’t like she had much to do in the first place in this small village.

Lestara was lost. Perhaps she took the wrong turn from the last fork in the road. But there was no reason why it mattered, since the two roads eventually merged again anyways. So why was there another fork in the road, when there wasn’t one there before?

She looked at the map she had bought from her previous visit to the market, her brows furrowed in confusion at the unmarked fork on the map. “That can’t be right…” She held her lantern up at both roads, each seeming to lead into the same direction anyways. “Let’s try this way, Hec.” She guided her horse down one of the roads, hoping that this would lead to the right way eventually.

The night was eerily silent. Almost too silent. Her breath turned into white in the winter breeze as the first flakes of snow began to fall from the sky.

The pattering of paws against the snow.

A howl.

Two howls.

Now primal growls sounding from behind Lestara’s cart.

Lestara turned to see a pack of wolves slowly approaching the cart. They were not interested in the excavated objects packed in the cart. No, they wanted meat. They wanted blood. Three behind the cart. Two on her right. One on her left. Without another moment to spare, she unlatched the cart from her horse’s saddle.

“Hyah!” Her horse speeded through the road with the wolves making chase after them.

They weren’t going to make it.

The wolves were growing closer with every second.

She looked back to see the alpha of the pack only a foot away. All it needed was to extend its neck to bite a chunk of flesh off her horse to send her flying into the snow as their next course. But when she turned back around, her horse collided into a wall of branches. She collapsed from the saddle, her horse running in another direction and abandoning her.

Looking back, she saw the wolves trying to get through the branches and used the opportunity to escape. Her eyes settled on the open, vast land before her.

And a castle.

There was no time to think. Lestara immediately ran through the snow to the castle as she pulled her fur coat closer to her body. She felt a sudden pull and fell onto her knees, turning to see one of the wolves with her fur coat in its jaws. Panic coursed through her body as she kicked it in the throat and kept running. But there was no way she could outrun the pack of wolves that were now free from the branches and heading straight for her.

She cried out in relief when a gate came into view as she pulled it open as much as she can. But another yank at the sleeve of her coat sent her face first into the snow. She immediately got up and swung her arm to pull her sleeve free from the wolf’s jaws, but it wouldn’t let go.

“Ugh, keep it!” She ripped her coat open to run through the gate and pulled the gate closed. She shivered in her now-soaked turtleneck as she hurried through the spacious garden and up the stairs to the door. She held her hand up to knock, but suddenly, the door clicked and swung itself open—much to Lestara’s bewilderment.

“H-hello?” she managed to stutter out. She stepped inside with caution, seeing the ornate palace to be empty. “Is anyone here?” Lestara spotted the orange color of fire flickering from further back of the castle and paced across the hall to, hopefully, greet the owner.

But there was no owner. Only a table of food by a lit fireplace. “I apologize if I’m intruding, but I have lost my horse and my belongings to go home. I would at least like some shelter from the snowfall before I go back.” Seeing there was no one to greet her, she approached the fireplace to warm herself up. She crouched in front of the fire with a sigh and dug her head into her knees.

How could this happen? Not only did she abandon the cart that contained her weapons, her horse was nowhere to be found. How was she going to return to Sona? Another sigh escaped her as she looked up at the table of food behind her. If no one was coming out after her few attempts to get their attention, she could eat too, right?

Hesitant but hungry, Lestara approached the table and sat down. She grabbed a small loaf of bread and spread some butter and cheese before taking a bite. The loaf tasted like it was freshly baked, making her wonder if someone had just made this meal. But there was no one in sight.

“Psst.”

Her eyes widened as she jerked her head around to find the source of the voice.

“Over here.”

She looked at the candelabra at the right of her plate. It, it couldn’t have been the candle talking, right? The design of the candelabra suddenly moved like a face.

“Hey, you might want to get out of here before the master finds out. He’s not very welcoming to outsiders.”

It was the candelabra.

Lestara’s breath caught in her throat as she stopped chewing. “You, you can talk?”

“Zed, how many times do I have to tell you you can’t just start talking out of nowhere like that?” another voice came from a small clock on the opposite side of her. “I apologize. Zed tends to do things without thinking,” the clock sneered the last part at the candle.

“What else do you expect me to do, Shen? Dance in front of her and sing? That’s one way of easing her into it.” The table clattered from Lestara getting up without a word and running away from the talking furniture. “And there she goes.”

The candle talked. The clock talked. This was not a normal castle. If they were magical creatures, then surely the owner of this castle was of inhuman origins. She flew towards the door to make her escape, but she stopped dead in her tracks when a dark figure closed the entrance shut.

“Who are you?” a low and unworldly voice growled. “A thief?”

“N-no, I was just passing by… I was… chased by wolves,” Lestara stammered as she stepped back when the figure approached her. Horns. This man was no human. “Please, sir, I didn’t mean any trouble. I lost my horse and all my belongings!”

Glowing blue eyes glanced at the talking candle and clock, who tensed up at the figure’s stare. “Yet you enter this castle and help yourself like you live here?” He cornered her by a pillar, a growl rumbling from his throat as he spoke, “I think not.”

He was a demon.

Sona awakened from the sound of panicked hooves clopping to the gate of the cottage, a frightened whinny begging her to let it in. She burst out of the door and saw their horse looking around and fidgeting restlessly.

Why was Hec alone?

Where was the cart?

Where was her mother?

Her eyes widened as she checked behind the horse for a sign of her mother walking back from the forest, but no one was there. Her breath quickened once she realized their horse had come here alone.

What happened in the forest?

She pulled the horse in and ran back into the house for her shawl, packing her charcoal and parchment in a sack and tying it around her neck. She then hopped onto their horse and slapped the reins to jump over the village gates into the forest. They brushed through the snow until Hec skidded to a stop by the cart in the dirt.

The sheet covering the goods Lestara was planning to sell at the market was blown away by the wind, and some items were cluttered on the ground… with bite marks and shredded scraps.

Sona’s eyes darted around the area. If the wolves were still around, they had to leave. Now. She urged Hec to keep going until they walked through the opening of the branches Hec made. In the distance was Lestara’s fur coat, now torn into pieces. She looked up at the castle and gulped. Her mother must have taken shelter in there. She leapt off Hec and quickly opened the gates to let herself and Hec in, making sure to shut the gates tightly to prevent the wolves from entering.

Once she arrived to the base of the stairs, she took a deep breath to quell her shaking hands. The castle was large, but it looked so unsettling. She hopped off the saddle and walked up the stairs until she reached the door. Before she even raised her hand to knock, the door opened on its own, startling her. She pushed the door open more, poking her head through.

No one was in the castle except for the lit fireplace in the opposite hallway. She stepped inside with caution and closed the door quietly. Could her mother have gotten lost here? She hoped for the best.

“Isn’t that…?”

“Another person wandered in here?”

“As if the other one wasn’t enough.”

“But she looks like a younger woman. Do you think…?”

“You honestly think she could be the one?”

Her head jerked to the right, where she thought she heard voices. She approached the direction, seeing no one but a lit candelabra and a beautifully-designed clock. She took the candelabra to light her way through the dark halls of the palace, her nervous breaths making the flames flicker. Sona ascended the main stairs, but she felt the atmosphere growing colder and colder with each step.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and knocked on the handrail four times in a rhythm. She continued to wander around, repeating the knocking to see if her mother could recognize her and call for her. But the palace was too big. There was no way she could find her in such a huge place. She placed the candelabra down to sit down and press the hem of her dress to her cold, aching feet.

Suddenly, she heard a faint cry for help. It sounded like her mother. Her head perked up immediately and grabbed the candelabra again. She continued to follow the cries until she reached a stone staircase in a tower. Was this where her mother was? She quietly walked up the stairs, knocking again.

“Sona?!”

Without another thought, Sona ran up the spiraling staircase to see her mother behind bars. She gripped onto the cold metal, trying to shake them apart out of desperation. How did her mother get here?! Why was she imprisoned?!

“Sona, what are you doing here? You shouldn’t have come here!” Lestara pried Sona’s hands off the bars to send her away. “You need to escape. Before he comes!”

“Who?” Sona breathed out.

“Another one?” a voice echoed in the tower.

“No! Not her! She has done nothing wrong!” Lestara cried out. “Anyone but my daughter, please!”

Sona whipped her head to the source of the voice, seeing a horned figure sitting on the windowsill of the tower, covered by shadows. She heard her heart pounding in her ears as the figure hopped down to the stairs, merely feet away from her. Looking closer under the torch’s light, she spotted claws and spikes covering the arms.

“If you’ve come here to free your mother, your journey has been useless. She is being punished for trespassing my castle and thievery, and I intend to keep her here until she perishes.”

Her heart suddenly sank into her stomach. No. He couldn’t do that. Not to her mother. She desperately shook her head, grasping her hands together to plead to him to release her. But seeing that the demon wouldn’t budge, she took out the parchment and charcoal from her sack.

“Sona, no, please! Don’t do it!”

She bravely stepped into the light of the torch by Lestara’s prison with her parchment held out in front of her. The demon took a step forward, still in the shadows, reading her blocky writing.

“I will take her place. If you let me, please let my mother go.”

The demon paused, his eyes glancing up at her. “You’d take your mother’s place?”

“Please, sir! She can’t speak! She can’t live in a prison like this!” Lestara pleaded.

“Only if you promise me my mother will be set free and let her go back home.”

There was another pause, as if the demon was considering his options. “You shall have my word. But you are to remain in this castle forever. Will you go so far as to do that?”

Without hesitation, Sona grabbed the torch and held it to the demon. White, skull-like head with horns growing out and glowing blue orbs in the eye sockets. Fangs as sharp as mirror shards jutting out. Arms with spikes that turned from dark violet shoulders to crimson claws. Legs that bent like a beast’s. She gasped in horror at his inhuman appearance, nearly dropping the torch.

A demon. A monster.

But she had to promise him. And a promise he was going to get. She nodded firmly with determination flaring in her eyes.

“Fine.” He swept past her to unlock Lestara’s prison.

Sona rushed to the bars to give her mother one last hug before the demon hauled her away for all eternity. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, squeezing her mother tightly in her arms. Sona then locked herself behind the bars, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Lestara was then yanked away from her embrace by the demon, who carried her down the stairs to send her away.

The candelabra and the clock peered over from the side of the prison, seeing her silently weep into her hands while sitting in the corner. They exchanged worried glances. The candle then hopped onto the clock’s head to pull the lever to unlock the prison.

She flinched at the sound of the metal gate screeching. Strange. Was the demon letting her free? It couldn’t have been. A sharp gasp escaped her when the candelabra and the clock walked into her prison.

“Come with us, young lady. We can show you to, uh, your room?” the clock said. “Uh-oh.” He ducked when a wooden stick flew at him from inside, hitting the candelabra instead and sending him tumbling down the stairs. “Wait! We’re harmless, I swear!” he attempted to calm her down. “We promise we won’t hurt you.”

Sona had held up a wooden stool in her hands to throw the clock down the stairs with the candelabra too, but she set it down once her shock had finally settled in. A talking candle… and a clock…? How was this possible?

“You bitch! I’m going to light you on fire!” the candle threatened as it hopped back up the stairs, getting stopped by the clock.

“Zed! Calm down! She’s never seen talking furniture before. What do you expect?” The clock smiled nervously at her. “Sorry about him. He’s a little hot-headed, no pun intended. His name is Zed. My name is Shen. We, uh, we will be showing you to your new room in the palace, so please follow us.”

“No need.” The demon’s voice sounded from the stairway. “I will show you to your room. Unless you prefer staying in this tower forever.”

She shook her head.

“Then hurry up. I would rather we not dawdle.” He grabbed Zed to light the way through the castle. His eyes watched Sona hesitantly chase after him and follow from a few feet away. The atmosphere was heavy. But considering he had exchanged her mother with her as a prisoner, it was a given. He looked away when she sniffed and wiped a tear away from her cheeks.

There was no escape, was there? Looking around, it seemed as if the entire castle was alive. Sona glanced at the demon, who seemed to be having a conversation with the candle. Who was he? What was he? She winced when the demon looked back at her.

“You’re allowed to go anywhere you wish in the castle. However, you are forbidden from entering the highest floor. Do not let me catch you wandering up there, or else.” The threat in his voice was quiet but clear enough. They continued to walk through the halls until they reached a door at the end of a hallway on the second floor. “This will be your room. I will reiterate that you are free to wander around the castle of your own accord. My servants will attend to your needs, should you have anything to request.” He paused as he glanced at the insisting candle. “However, I expect you to be down for meals when you are called. That is an order.”

Sona flinched when the demon slammed the door behind her with a growl. She leaned against the door and slid down, hopelessness settling into her heart that she would never see her mother or the village again.

Yet she had no more tears to shed.

Yasuo sat by the counter of the bar, downing a cup of sake and pouring himself another. What a boring day it was today. There was nothing to do in this village anymore other than drinking or taking naps. Nothing interesting to travel for. Nothing to hunt. Nothing to slay. He was sure his sword was lusting for a demon’s blood.

But how could he find a demon when he’d already slain all the demons infesting the woods near their village?

As he was about to take another sip, the doors of the bar burst open, revealing Lestara looking desperate and helpless. “Somebody! Anyone! You must help my daughter. The demon took her prisoner in his castle!”

All eyes focused on her as she approached the nearest patron to ask for help. “There’s a demon living in a castle in the forest, and he took my daughter!”

Yasuo’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. A demon? In these forests? Impossible. “A demon, you say?” he drawled. “Are you sure it wasn’t just the winter snow playing tricks on your eyes?” That earned him a snicker from one of the patrons sitting at the end of the bar.

“No, you don’t understand. His castle is hidden by the trees, and, and it’s alive! There are talking furniture in there that move like people!”

The bar fell silent and then burst into laughter at such unimaginable claims. Furniture that talk? Moving like people? She must have been joking. Even Yasuo couldn’t comprehend what kind of demon would have furniture as pawns.

“Yasuo, please. I am telling you the truth. The demon took me prisoner and exchanged me with Sona!”

For a moment, and only a moment, he had believed her. No sane person of admirable hunting skills like Lestara would lie about a demon in the woods. Perhaps he could check. It would provide him something to kill time with. “Then lead the way, Lestara. I can go with you to slay the demon.”

“Oh, thank you. Thank you! Follow me, I will lead you there immediately.” Lestara and Yasuo rode horses past the librarian, whose eyes followed them out the village gates into the woods.

How curious. Where were they going at this time of night? But there was no time to answer that, for she had some scribing to finish.

However, the journey to find the castle was fruitless, for the fork in the road that lead to the castle had suddenly disappeared. Lestara desperately cleared bushes to try to find the other road. But there was no use. “That, that’s impossible! I know it was here! I had to leave my cart on the path to escape the wolves!”

“Wolves?” Yasuo repeated. “You mean you dragged me out all the way here to tell me that you were chased by wolves? Is that the “demon” you’re talking about?”

“No! No. They weren’t the demon. If they were, I would have said they were wolves, not a demon.” She clenched her hand into a fist out of frustration when she couldn’t find the road anywhere. “I don’t understand. It was here. I am not lying to you, Yasuo, I swear.”

Yasuo clicked his tongue. “Forget it. This was a waste of my time. As if there is a demon in these damn woods.”

“But…!”

“You are on your own!” he snarled. “Don’t even bother asking for help the next time you hallucinate something as ridiculous as a demon and talking furniture.” He turned his horse around to return to the village, leaving Lestara alone in the cold.

Sona couldn’t get a wink of sleep that night. She kept tossing and turning under her covers, thinking about how desperate Lestara was to remain in the prison instead. But how could she endure knowing her mother was out here in this castle, trapped forever? The thought of her mother’s freedom was her only solace.

Thankfully, she kept herself preoccupied with the talking wardrobe, Ahri, in her room. Ahri was certainly a talker, having engaged her in a conversation for most of the night. Since Sona was mute, Ahri resorted to yes or no questions and talking from there.

She sat up from the plush bed, combing her fingers through her hair. It was dawn already. The sky was still grey, still snowing. With a sigh, Sona hopped off the bed to change out of her nightgown. Once dressed, she poked her head out of her room to see if the demon was coming by.

Seeing as no one was coming, she decided to take the opportunity to wander around the castle. If she was allowed to go anywhere she wished, then she was going to take that chance. Especially if she can find escape routes.

She wandered from hall to hall, from floor to floor, taking note of every window she could use to escape safely.

Her feet took her to a large door at the end of a hallway that loomed over even the tallest statue in the hall. Her jaw dropped at the ornate design of gold and wood on such a huge door. She had considered this to be the demon’s lair, but it stood out too much to be so.

She pushed it open to see a ballroom behind the door, the gold floors matte from the dust that piled up from years of unuse. On a raised platform sat a piano and a harp as tall as her. Her eyes glittered brighter than golden doors as she approached the harp to pluck the string.

Her face contorted at the cacophony. It was so out-of-tune… She’d have to fix that.

But the sound of the door creaking open again stopped her. She turned to see a feather duster entering the ballroom. “Oh, it’s just you. What are you doing here? We’ve been looking all over for you!” When Sona opened her mouth to attempt to say something, the feather duster hurried over and shooed her away from the harp. “There’s no time for chatting. You’re being called for breakfast.”

Breakfast with the demon. What an unpleasant thought. Sona’s brows furrowed as she exited the ballroom and walked back to her bedroom instead. There was no way she was going to have breakfast with someone like him.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” the feather duster called out as it chased after her. “You can’t defy the master’s orders, you know!”

Sona answered the feather duster by slamming her bedroom door, but not without the duster slipping inside. She firmly shook her head to insist her refusal on joining the demon for breakfast.

“Ugh. Ahri, I’d expect you of all people to convince her first.”

“Hey, I tried, Syndra. But I can’t persuade someone who was practically taken prisoner in a castle. That’s unfair to her.”

Their conversation was cut short when four loud thumps sounded from the door. Sona flew to the door to lock it immediately. It was the demon. “I thought I told you to come down for meals when called,” he growled. “Care to give me an explanation?”

Sona shushed the feather duster that was about to speak and angrily started writing something onto her parchment, slipping it under the door.

“You can’t stay in there forever,” he growled louder.

“Yes. I. Can,” she wrote.

There was a bang of frustration against her door and a low snarl. “Fine. Then starve.” He stomped away from her bedroom, slamming the hall door with great force.

Syndra sighed. “Fantastic. Look what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Sona couldn’t help but send a glare at the door and shake her head as she rolled her eyes. As if she would ever let him have his way. Not when he was going to treat her like this.

The demon entered his lair, where pieces of wooden frames and canvas lay cluttered on the floor. Zed and Shen followed closely behind. He approached a table holding the enchanted mirror and a glass container holding the rose. His hand hovered over the back of the mirror as if to grab it but hesitated.

“Your Majesty, you mustn’t keep losing your temper like that,” Shen warned.

“It’ll only make it worse with that girl,” Zed muttered, earning a hard nudge from Shen.

He sighed as he picked up the mirror. “Show me the young lady.” His reflection changed, the mirrow now showing Ahri and Syndra trying to convince Sona to give him a chance. But Sona could only shake her head angrily, refusing to show acknowledgement of him. “Why does it matter?” He set the mirror back down on its reflective surface, walking out to the balcony to cool his head. “It’s hopeless.”

Shen and Zed exchanged worried glances and left the room to leave him to his thoughts.

After an hour, Sona snuck out of her room with Syndra tailing behind. “Oh, so now you’re hungry, huh?” Syndra shook her head as she guided Sona to the kitchen. “Well, we can’t have you starve, no matter what the master says.” Once they entered the kitchen, they were greeted by clusters of moving plates, utensils, and teacups. Shen and Zed were on a table talking to a teapot.

“Well, well, well, look who finally decided to join us,” one teacup said as he jumped down open drawers. “Care for some breakfast you missed out on? Or,” he paused to look out the window, “oh, sorry, it seems to be close to lunch now.”

“Kayn, leave her alone,” another teacup called from a table. “You can’t blame her for not wanting to join the master for breakfast.”

“Guess what, Akali? I’m going to. We went through so much trouble making all this food, only to have it go to waste because both parties decided not to eat.”

Sona bowed apologetically at the teacup’s piercing remark.

“Kayn, behave. We must be respectful to the guest,” Shen said.

“Guest, my ass,” Kayn muttered.

“Don’t give your uncle sass, Kayn.” Zed looked at Sona, who stared back with a questioning look. “Besides, at this point, we need to treat her like a guest.”

“Fine, dad,” he drawled.

“Yeah, Kayn. Listen to Uncle Shen for once.”

“Shut it, Akali.”

“Now, now. The young lady must be feeling hungry. We can still give her what we made,” the teapot hopped in between the two teacups glaring at each other. “Welcome, young lady. My name is Karma. I mostly run the kitchen to prepare the meals for you. I suppose you’ve come here because you’re hungry.” Karma looked at Shen and Zed to lead Sona to the dining hall. “We will be with you shortly, dear.”

The two lead Sona to the dining hall and sat her down at the end of the long table. “So, how are you liking the castle so far?” Zed asked.

Sona scribbled on her parchment and showed it to him. “The castle’s very spacious. I’m rather interested in the harp that’s sitting in the ballroom.”

“Interesting. You can play music?” Shen asked.

“I took lessons in my old country before I moved to Ionia.”

“Ah. That explains why you look Ionian. Your writing says otherwise, though,” Zed commented, making Sona’s cheeks turn red in embarrassment.

Her embarrassment was short-lived when the kitchen doors opened with trays flooding in and placing themselves before Sona, opening up to uncover the food inside. Oh gods, she was so hungry. How was she able to withstand this hunger earlier? She thanked them for the food and helped herself to as much as she could eat to last for the day.

“Slow down, dear, you’re going to choke,” Karma warned. “Even if the master won’t let you eat, I am not having that. I will personally deliver your dinner to your room if I must, so don’t force yourself.”

Sona nodded in thanks and started eating more peacefully, feeling relieved. The servants in the castle were so kind compared to the demon. She couldn’t help but wonder why the demon wasn’t like them.

While Shen and Zed were giving her a tour of the unventured part of the palace, they had eventually fallen into a deep conversation that paid no mind to Sona’s presence. Figuring they wouldn’t notice if she wandered off on her own, Sona took a detour up a staircase to see what else was up there.

The surroundings seemed to become more dilapidated as she continued to ascend the stairs. Even the marble statues seemed to turn darker and more frightening as she approached the top.

Next thing she knew, a door marked with scratches and webs stood before her. Realization hit her that this was the demon’s lair. She wasn’t allowed here. But her curiosity pushed her hand to open the door and enter the room.

The room was dimly lit by a fireplace and a few candles around a king-sized bed. In other corners of the room lay shattered and torn paintings. Upon closer inspection of a torn painting by the bed, she noticed it was a painting of humans. The man in the middle, where the canvas was most damaged, seemed to stare at her with deep blue eyes. Was it the previous owner of this castle? Before the demon took over?

Not wanting to think about the fate of the former residents of the palace, she turned away to explore the room more. By the balcony of the room, where it was lit by only moonlight, a table with a mirror and a glass container with a rose sat in the center. She approached the rose, examining it closer. She raised her hand to touch the glass to admire its beauty, when a shadow loomed over her.

She sucked in a sharp breath seeing the demon standing by the balcony.

“I thought I told you this place was forbidden!” His claws clenched into fists and struck the wall with so much force that it cracked under the pressure. “Get out. Get the hell out!” he roared, sending Sona running out of the room in fright. He eyed the rose for any damage or a sign it was tainted. It took mere seconds for the demon to realize the damage he had done.

Sona choked back the lump in her throat as she ran down the main stairway with her shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She couldn’t stay here any longer. Nothing was going right. The demon could have killed her. She was so scared. She ran past the servants begging her to stay and went on her way on her horse.

The sun had set, and she could barely make out the landscape. She went through the forest to hopefully find a way out back to the road. Her eyes darted around to find an opening. Somewhere. Anywhere.

A howl following two more chilled her blood. She looked back while Hec was still running and saw a pack of wolves approaching her from behind.

Oh no.

No, no, no, no, no.

She slapped the reins against her horse to escape.

The wolves were on her tail, one even getting close enough to try nipping at Hec’s legs. In Hec’s fright, he launched Sona into the snow, trapped by the circling wolves. Sona gritted her teeth and grabbed a branch by her feet and rushed to her horse’s aid. She swung the branch at the wolves to deter them, even managing to send one collapsing into the snow.

It was no use. There was only so much she could do.

A wolf caught her swing and pulled the branch out of her hands, rendering her vulnerable. She backed up to her horse to protect it. Was this how she was going to die? All without seeing her mother one final time? She shut her eyes for her imminent death when a wolf leapt at her.

A snarl sounded from her right following a pained whine from the wolf. Sona opened her eyes to see the demon before her. But his presence didn’t discourage the wolves. They collectively leapt at the demon, trying to tear at him, only to have claws sinking into their flesh as he sent them flying at trees.

The demon glared at the wolves, a demonic rumble reverberating from his throat and sending the survivors fleeing. He fell to his knees, his body covered in blood and wounds. Unable to take the pain, he collapsed onto his side.

Sona gulped, her breath shallow and quick from the adrenaline. She pursed her lips as she glanced at the demon, whose usual glowing eyes were now dull. This was her chance. She could escape his clutches once and for all. She regained her composure and went to hop back onto her horse.

But she stopped.

She could run. She could run right now without having to look back.

The demon wouldn’t be able to chase after her.

And yet she couldn’t just leave him to die.

“He’s waking up!”

“Oh, thank the heavens. I thought he wouldn’t make it.”

The demon awoke to some of his servants and Sona, who hovered over him with a soaked rag in her hands, by his bedside in worry. He groaned from the sharp pain in his arm and side. Tilting his head slightly, he saw bandages on his torso and arm. “What… is going on?”

“You suffered wounds trying to save this young lady, from what she’s told us,” Karma explained. “She’s been up all night tending to your wounds.” She nudged the bowl of hot water towards Sona. “If you have any sort of common sense, you would thank her.” She jumped off the bed. “By the time I come back, I expect you to have at least done what you should do.” She hopped away out of the bedroom to meet with the other concerned servants to update them on his condition.

An awkward silence settled between them as the demon tried to find his voice to speak to her. Sona remained in her seat, staring down at her cupped hands.

“I, um,” he started, “would like to thank you for helping me. I probably could have died, if you didn’t.”

Sona glanced up at him, whose eyes gave her a sincere apology. She reached out for the parchment and started scribbling onto it. “I accept your apology. But also, thank you for saving my life.” A genuine smile curled her lips for the first time since she came here.

The demon fell silent at her smile. He cleared his throat before saying, “You’re welcome.” There was another awkward pause before he cleared his throat again. “Your name was Sona, I believe?”

She nodded.

“My name is Khada Jhin. You can call me… or write, in your case, Jhin.” He stared up at the ceiling. “I believe that introduction was long overdue.”

#league of legends #jhin x sona #jhinsona #jhin #sona #beauty and the beast au #rosywrites #reunited #one-shot

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