#I never said Robin leaving Ionia was a good thing for *everyone*

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

Feather-light kisses on their knuckles + Kisses on the back of their hand

✧ ━━ 𝟏𝟎𝟐 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝙻𝙴𝙰𝙶𝚄𝙴 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴

The day had finally come for Vladimir to pay his promised dowry; he had vowed Robin the world, and this small step was just the start. It had been a swift and ruthless maneuver, a calculated dismantling of alliances that left the remnants of House Swain shattered and vulnerable. Drawing Raum's ever watchful eyes away left an opening to slip through and after that it was easy enough to paint the walls red with those lingering behind. The Trifarix Council of the Immortal Bastian now stood before him, its grand table looming empty and bare within the ghostly hall. Robin slowly approached one of the towering windows and ran his fingertips across the cold stone, all of it felt hazy ━ ; the pleasure almost too much to bear, the euphoria of it all was too good to be true. But … it was.

His verdent eyes peered outside, finally noticing the grisly spectacle that lay sprawled. before him; the former members of House Swain dangled lifelessly from the fortification’s walls: a warning of what was to come if any of House Swain's allies came to fulfill their oath. A soft smile graced his lips. Now the only thing left to do was to introduce Jericho to his red radiant destiny, and send his severed head in a box to Ionia.

But for now, he was content with merely gazing upon his resplendent future. The scorching sun dipped low on the horizon line, casting a warm golden hue over the Immortal Bastian to illuminate the towering spires and bustling streets below. Oh how far he had come. He had been but a mere Zaunite rat, scuttling through the shadows and chewing on filth in a desperate bid for survival, Robin now stood at the precipice of a life he had only dared to dream of. He had been cloaked in the suffocating embrace of fear and worry, but no more. He had nothing to fear alongside his beloved fiancé. After all, every leader needed a right hand and advisor … who better suited than Robin? The weight of destiny settled comfortably on his shoulders as he envisioned it all — a long life, a better life, finally within his reach.

He need only choke it from the swine whinging in the dungeons.

Beneath him, the city thrummed; merchants hawking their wares, laughter spilling from nearby taverns, and the distant clang of metal as the city’s guards went about their duties. Whether its inhabitants were blissfully unaware of the shifting tides of power, or just didn't care Robin couldn't quite tell. The Noxians were far too fickle a people, their allegiances driven solely by the allure of strength over loyalty, had never held true allegiance to the Grand General. It was a pity, certaintly. Swain, with all his cunning, would become just another name in a long list of fallen leaders whose corpses would soon be tossed aside as the week drew to a close. His kin would be soon to follow should they bother to show their faces.

Swift he was to turn his attention behind him at the sound of a familiar click! a noise that sent a thrill of anticipation running through him alongside his quickening heart. As he shifted, his breath caught in his throat and a smile broke over his features. There, framed by the tall, arched doorway of the council room, stood his beloved, Vladimir Vol Kalah Heigaari. He was always such a striking figure to Robin, and now he strode in with an air of regal confidence that only made the magnus' eyes twinkle. Conquest and Death looked good on his love, evident by who ━ or now what ━ was flanking him; the moaning, groaning, unsettling remnants of the Trifarian Legion. Their magnificent forms now transformed into grotesque shadows of their former selves. Their sockets glowed sickly red, shimmering with a malevolent light that betrayed the bravery they once embodied. At one time noble warriors, now reduced to mere drooling thralls, shuffling in mindless subservience at the prince's side.

Yet amidst the horror, Robin's gaze was drawn irresistibly back to his Count, who, upon stepping into the vibrant light that streamed through the high windows, transformed into a vision of glory. Golden rays of sunlight transforming his pale hair into an ethereal inferno, fiery strands cascading like liquid gold around his adoring features. Pale brows softened as he fully shifted to greet his fiancé, but words caught in his throat once the Camavoran prince knelt before him as though he were some sort of God. He could scarcely breathe as Vladimir's delicate fingers brushed against his palm! With tender reverence, his beloved lifted his left hand in his claws, their fingers entwining, and in that touch, Robin felt the world around them fade away.

Every nervous flutter in his chest felt magnified, a hitch in his breath, as he felt the warm brush of Vlad's lips teasingly glide across his cool knuckles. With a gentle lift of his chin, Robin allowed a pleased hum to break free, and his heart began to race like a wild drum banging in his chest. Finally Vlad’s lips pressed firmly against the back of his hand, and the younger's poor heart went soaring. The mage could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, a rosy flush that betrayed his calm demeanor with abandon, and his heart raced, nearly escaping as he noticed the corners of Vladimir’s eyes crinkle with delight, a knowing smile dancing on his lips. Robin pressed his own plush lips together, biting back a rush of shy exhilaration that threatened to spill over while watching his fiancé ascent to stand before him, hand in hand.

"Little Love," Robin felt his heart racing fast and he no longer tried to hold his smile back as Vladimir swept him off his feet and lifted him effortlessly into his arms with a gentle ━ yet firm ━ grip around his waist. Vampiric crimson drank in every detail of his face, and he saw his own yearning reflected back to him; how could he ever want to resist the allure of his fiancé? His songbird had learned to yield to the sinful call that pulled their bodies and hearts together ━ that bid him to let go and enjoy sheer mindless bliss. Waves of affection surged through him, blossoming like spring flowers at the way Vladimir eagerly peppered his throat with soft, fervent kisses along the the flush of his collar. He shuddered and gasped when sharp teeth sink down to bloom another mark, and then another, another, and another, until the pale column of Robin's throat, even the area surrounding his scar, had been inscribed with the tender offerings of his devoted lover. As the last kiss lingered on his skin, the Darkin drew away ever so slightly to purr against the shell of the mage's ear, "Mm, Robin-" A silky tenor, pulling over his name as a promise, a sonorous wish,

"This wretched place does not deserve to be blessed by your gaze."

Mesmerizing green eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as they stared up to Vlad half liddedly with a languid softness, a serene contentedness evident in every flutter of his wintry lashes. The soft contours of Robin's pale fingers glided along the fine edges of the prince’s ornate suitcoat, finally capturing the delicate fabric of his cravat in a playful hook. With a mischievous tug, he drew his taller fiancé closer until Vlad’s straight, perfect nose brushed against his. Eager fingers threaded through his love's pale hair, resting possessively at the nape of his neck as he drew the Count closer still. Kisses, soft and chaste, floated across the skin surrounding Vlad's mouth, each one a teasing promise, always just shy of the simmering depth the prince craved. "Then, my darling," Robin's sweet voice emerged as a sultry croon, smooth and enchanting like a siren's song, beckoning softly as he hovered near the delicate curve of Vlad's cupid's bow.

"Reshape it for me until its worthy of us."