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dutifullynuttywitch · 10 months ago

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Oh I enjoyed this soooo much!!! I've been dreaming of stories where they interact with other peoples and creatures of the realm. I loved your Vampyrs and your portrayal of Aerin!!

And which character are you?”There are spots in Aerin’s visions, dark masses that sway about the periphery. “The one who either leaves…” He breaks off with a cough so deep it feels like it’s scarring his lung with every forceful exhale. “Or gets left behind.” And then the black spots enlarge and swallow him whole.

The feels!!!! This broke my heart. Aerin you are not unredeemable 💔

Brilliant writting, thanks so much for sharing!!

tongue of silver, taste of blood

Pairing: Aerin x f!MC, Blades of Light and Shadow

Ratings: M (blood, illness, pain, swearing)

Word Count: ~11,000

A/N: This is set after Book 2, with the assumption that Nifara will be the villain? Idk. Thank you to @choicesficwriterscreations for all the work you do on the archive!

Summary: In which Aerin meets the vhampyrs. In which the vhampyrs learn the tale of the mercenaries of Lord Kelvin Gillbottle. And in which that tale gets the ending it deserves.

He feels it, the telltale prickling in his head, a subtle but undeniably present static behind his forehead.

There’s someone else in his mind.

Aerin clears his throat and speaks aloud, alone in the empty cell. “I know you’re there.”

Hello, Little Human. Apparently, you know my tricks. She’s probing, delving into his psyche, but he bats down everything rising to the surface as he desperately searches for a thought to cling to, something innocuous, unrevealing, something that won’t put his entire mission in danger.

“I will tell you…” He cuts off to cough. “I will tell you the story of Lord Kelvin Gill-“

Little Human, I don’t want stories. The voice hisses, but Aerin is certain; he knows, if he can keep his mind focused on nonsense, there will be nothing of value for the voice to discover.

“Well, it’s not about Lord Gillbottle, per se, but more about his mercenaries.”

And so he starts the story, a fanciful tale of roving adventurers becoming heroes, and it continues until the static leaves his mind and, exhausted, he slides into unconsciousness.

~~~~~

“What do you mean the vhampyrs can read minds?”

Aerin jerks awake. It’s cold wherever he is; he’s since lost track of where the vhampyrs led him, somewhere through a maze of never-ending stone stairs and dusty crypts, and even rubbing his hands over his arms doesn’t quell the chill. There’s one blanket, threadbare, draped over his legs, but he refuses to clamber into the bed he was given so when he lies on the floor, the cold of the stone seeps unyielding into his bones.

Searching through the recess of his brain, thankfully, it’s quiet - his thoughts are clear. No static. During the day, the vhampyrs sleep, so he’s alone in his mind; besides, he knows that voice that just echoed in his head.

It wasn’t the vhampyr.

It was a memory. Mal, leaning over a tattered map, in the Palace Archive.

More of the memory returns to him, unbidden.

“What do you mean the vhampyrs can read minds?”

“Not all, but some. The powerful ones. They can delve into your head,” Kade says, a stack of tomes towered beside him to match the two spread open before him, his fingers flipping carefully through weathered pages. It appears that he has pulled every single book he could find on the creatures from the entire Palace Archives; Aerin is almost impressed.

“Can you stop it somehow?” Raine asks, already in planning mode.

“No,” Tyril says, shaking his head. “Not to that I know of. An Elven lord once tried to create a charm of sorts, but it failed miserably. And then they drained his blood and put his head on a stake.”

“Vile creatures.” Imtura crosses her hands over her chest as she speaks. “Are you sure we need to meet with them?”

Rain frowns. “Yes. We need them as allies.”

“But we managed before, with allies that can’t read our minds.” Imtura says.

“The stakes are even higher now.” At least Raine looks apologetic as she continues. “We need anyone we can find.”

Aerin frowns before offering a likely unwelcome interjection. “And, there is something you can do. You can’t stop them from trying to get their way into your head, but you can stop them from finding anything.”

“What do you mean, princeling?” Tyril asks.

Aerin sighs, glancing away. “When someone else is in your mind, you can sense it, feel it. It’s a bit like static in your brain. So, when you sense it starting, you need to think of something else, something you don’t want them to know. Or they will learn everything.”

“Of course you know what it’s like to have voices in your head,” Mal sneers, and Aerin glares back.

“Well, they couldn’t read your mind, as there’s nothing of value there.”

“Enough.” Raine speaks, cutting off the brewing brawl. “It’s not much, but it is something. Time is of the essence here; we will need to split up.” Aerin waits and doesn’t breathe while she surveys the group. “Valax and I will work on that unstable rift. Tyril, could you and Mal travel to the Cliffs of Colaris? Imtura, you will go to Necropolis and meet with the vhampyrs. Nia will accompany you. And…” Aerin shifts his feet as her eyes meet his. “Aerin will go, too.”

Imtura grimaces, swatting his arm; Aerin tries not to wince at the sharp ache. “Looks like it’s you, me, and Nia, princeling.”

At least Raine looks apologetic and hangs back, waiting until the others have left to catch his arm. “Are you ok with this? Going into the vhampyrs’ lair?”

“Where no one has come back from alive?”

“Those are just stories.”

Aerin grimaces and says, “Even the stories are unsettling.”

“They are sentient; I am sure we can reason with them.”

“Are you sure I can’t accompany you instead?”

She sighs. “Kade filled me in on everything he knew about the vhampyrs. Their ways of living, their power structure. I need a diplomat, someone who can drive agreement with them.”

“Imtura can’t do that?”

Raine laughs softly, and it’s so much like music that he’s compelled to smile back. “She can get you physically out of there if need be, and Nia will protect you all with her Light. But I need you to get through to the vhampyrs. Just like you struck an accord with Baroness Isador, I need someone clever to do the same with the immortal.”

He rubs the back of his neck; while he would rather travel with Raine, he can’t doubt the logic. He does have half a mind to doubt the faith she shows in him, but decides to only reply with “I’ll try.”

“I know.” She glances around, making sure that their companions have departed before stepping forward, catching his cheek in her palm. “You’ll come back to me, right?”

“Of course.” He smirks; judging by her raised eyebrow, she’s thinking of all the times he left. And yet, each time, he returned. “Raine. I will always come back to you; I told you, until you order me away, I will be here.” He tangles their fingers together.

“I know. But I am sorry to make you do this.”

“It’s alright.” She has no idea what he would do for her and, before he can profess that lengthy list, she leans forward to press her lips to his.

Aerin’s eyes fly open. They cannot have this part of his memory; he would die before he lets any of the bloodsuckers take it from him. This one is his - and Raine’s - theirs alone.

These memories come like a dream, but he’s unsure whether he’s still sleeping. All he knows is that it’s night.

At least he thinks it is. With no windows, the passage of time has become choppy, incoherent. The servants, clad in dark shrouds, deliver food twice a day; assuming it was dusk and dawn, it’s been two days.

Four meals.

He eats little.

Aerin clambers from the floor, just as the familiar static returns.

Hello, Little Human. The voice speaks, disembodied. He’s alone in the cell, the words only in his mind and, if he weren’t familiar with whispers calling out to him, he’s sure it would be thoroughly disorienting.

“Hello.”

I would like to ask you something. Lady Lilith is still surface level, not digging yet, so he entertains the query.

“What?”

What does the Commander of the Armies of Light want with creatures of darkness?

“You live in this realm, so you have an interest in its continuation, do you not?”

The issues of the human world do not concern us anymore.

“This is bigger than just one race, truly.” The static grows louder and he winces; she’s now deeper, looking for the truth in his words. He begins the story anew. “So Lord Gillbottle had asked the mercenaries to travel through the deep, dark forest.”

This again?

“Yes, it’s called the Deadwood, where I come from. You’d fit right in.”

Very funny, Little Human.

“So Lord Gillbottle sends them to the Deadwood, but he never expected that they would run into the drakna.”

What are drakna?

“Giant monsters. Horrid things. My brother - I mean - anyway. The monsters were chasing a pair of princes.”

Human princes?

“Yes, human princes traveling the kingdom from Whitetower.”

Why were there princes in the Deadwood?

“They were traveling. Do you want to hear the story or not? The mercenaries bravely fought off the drakna and saved the princes.”

Why?

At this, he loses focus. “What do you mean, why?”

Why did they save the princes?

Dumbstruck, he’s not quite sure how to respond. “Have you never done anything because it was the right thing to do?”

There’s laughter, and it’s a brittle, olden sound that seems to travel over centuries. What do you think, Little Human?

“I think you have. I think you have done good before.”

The voice only snorts at that.

“They saved the princes because that is what heroes do. But there was gold involved. Later.”

Later in this interminable tale?

“If you would rather discuss terms of joining the Unified Forces of the Light Realm as we fight the Olden G-”

Enough! The scream echoes around his skull and he winces, palms jumping up to cover his ears. But they do nothing to dim the screech coming from his own mind. It is an insult that the Commander did not come. We will not engage in discussions with feeble diplomats.

Aerin drops his hands, stung. “I’m not just a diplomat.”

What do you mean? The voice changes to a purr and he realizes, a split-second too late, that he lost control.

“I mean to say, would you like me to continue the story?”

If you are not just a diplomat, then who are you?

Aerin doesn’t reply, only runs through times tables in his mind until he feels ready to speak. He doesn’t want to give them any ammunition.

Indeed, he’s not quite sure he knows the answer himself.

Finally, when he has assured himself that his thoughts and voice are all under control, he speaks. “The princes gave the mercenaries gold to accompany them through the forest. Well, they promised them gold. But before they got the gold, they needed to set up camp for the night. So they all set up camp by a lake, and settled down.”

And so the story continues until the static subsides, and he is finally left alone with his thoughts.

~~~~~~

Would you like to see my fangs?

The buzzing in his skull howls, and he forces it aside. “That is a very odd question, not something polite company generally asks.”

Lady Lilith giggles. Would you? The others always seem fascinated.

And then she’s there, the door flying open at her inhuman strength; Aerin can just glance through the doorway to see a milling servant before Lady Lilith closes it again, the slam shaking the walls.

“Hello,” he says, rising from where he had been picking through his meal (breakfast or dinner, who could ever tell?). “I’m flattered to warrant a visit.”

“You cannot see my fangs without my presence.”

“I am not sure that -“

“When the humans come, they always stare. Wouldn’t you like a peek?”

He doesn’t yet know what to make of her. She looks remarkably like a child, a rather pale one, but still small. Her bony wrists peek out from her shroud and her smile is almost impish in candlelight, but, when she speaks, Gods, Aerin cannot believe he ever considered her young. The weathered tone of her low voice carries eons, millennia, and it echoes dully in his ears. “I am not interested in your fangs. I am interested in your alliance.”

She’s at his side in an instant, the superhuman speed a blur to his human eye, and her thin fingers drag his hair back so his neck is bared. It’s an uncomfortable angle, the crown of his head tilted so far towards the side of the room that his throat feels stretched and his eyes water, but he forgets the pain when he feels two pin-sharp teeth, right at his jugular.

“I could do it. Right now.” She’s so close her lips brush against his skin with every word, breath tickling the curls that graze his neck, and his heart leaps into a frenetic pace in his chest. “I can see your pulse, Little Human. So close. May I just- may I taste?”

“No.”

“But it smells so delicious. You don’t understand, do you, what it does to us. Like metal and vengeance and pain. May I?”

It’s a struggle to stay still, but he does, though the nails digging into his scalp make his eyes water, though all he can see is the uneven ceiling above his head. If he sways closer, the sharp points will pierce his skin and, if he moves farther, the hand gripping his curls would snap his neck. “No.”

Finally, with a low groan, she releases him. “You’re lucky you are somewhat amusing. Little Human.”

“Aw, you noticed? I’m touched.”

“I do hope your Commander comes for you.” She steps toward the door, turning as her hand grasps the handle. “It would be a shame if you perished before she arrived.”

By the tone of her voice, Aerin is not sure she considers it any shame at all.

~~~~~

When he is sure it’s daytime (at least he thinks, he thinks, he thinks he is losing his mind) and the vhampyrs are asleep in coffins of their own, he tries to remember, as much as he can, anything, anything at all, that would prove useful.

He remembers packing for the trip, a satchel long lost.

He remembers leading horses over uneven terrain and then, when the path was too treacherous, walking on foot, for days.

And he remembers the starkness of the ruins, Necropolis empty and falling into dust before his very eyes.

“Where are we supposed to look?” Nia asks, carefully stepping over a fallen column.

“The crypts.” Aerin answers. It feels a betrayal (yet another one) to hope they don’t find it.

They pass ruins and more ruins. Buildings, crumbling to dust. Town squares, desolate and silent save for the howling wind. It’s old, deserted, and they walk down streets of rubble until they come to the center of the city and one solitary mausoleum.

Aerin has seen his share of palaces, but this stands alone in his mind. It’s the only structure truly standing for miles, four stone walls seemingly untouched by the ravages of time. The walls are a deep gray, imposing and strong; if not for the rays of twilight glinting across the stone, they would look almost black. They enclose a space no larger than a single room at the Whitetower palace, short and squat. There are no windows, only an imposing metal door stretching into a pointed arch.

“Is this the place?” Imtura’s eyes are dubious as she takes in the stone. “I don’t know if I can fit inside.”

“Must be. It must go down, underneath the city.” Aerin answers.

Imtura cuts her eyes to him before she turns to the iron-wrought door with a shake of her head. “Shall we?”

“No, let’s wait. We need to give it a few minutes.”

“Why?” Nia looks curiously at him.

“The vhampyrs won’t be awake. They sleep during the day and… and hunt at night. We need to catch them right as they wake up.”

“How do you know all this, landrat?”

“Books in the Archives, research.” He shrugs. “It’s mostly fable, but better than nothing.”

“Anything else we should know?” Nia asks.

“They do not feel temperature; those receptors on their skin are all dead. They drink blood, obviously, but also eat things full of blood, organs, the like. Don’t eat the food. It’s not meant for human or orc consumption; legends claim that ingesting food touched by the hands of an immortal can make you ill. Like, incredibly, deadly ill.”

“Sounds pleasant.”

“Indeed.” Aerin wracks his brain for any other tidbit of information he has gleaned from the archives. “The clan is about fifty individual vhampyrs, all sharing a fang line.”

Nia glances at him. “A fang line?”

“The clan is all descended from the bite of the clean leader. Very hierarchical, and we will be expected to show extreme deference to the leaders. And they are very devoted to those in the clan; loyalty is highly valued.”

“So they probably won’t take too kindly to betrayers, will they, princeling?”

Aerin shakes his head, something like dread pooling in his stomach. “Probably not.” Not one race in the world takes kindly to traitors; it’s not like the vhampyrs would be an exception. “I don’t remember much else. It’s been so long since I dove into that section of the archives.”

“It’s fine.” Nia smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure it will be enough.”

“Reckon we can enter now?” Imtura asks.

Aerin surveys the horizon. The sun has just dipped below treeline; while the hazy clouds above reflect a few pale rays, it is undoubtedly dusk. “Yes. We should go.”

Imtura leads them closer down the path, weathered and crunching beneath their feet, and they stand before the unnervingly imposing door of the tiny building.

Something tickles in Aerin’s memory, something about visiting.

Before he can parse the recollection, Imtura knocks and the door creaks open. A tall, thin vhampyr stands before them; Aerin tries not to gape, but he’s sure his mouth is hanging open. This is the first vhampyr he’s seen in the flesh and, while he knows that staring is a rudeness, he can’t help himself. The vhampyr is pale, his flesh almost glowing like moonlight, and his eyes beam a pale red that seems to overshadow his entire face. His cape is deep obsidian, flowing out behind him in the evening breeze, and thin fingers curl around the door.

Those red eyes stare at them for entirely too long; Aerin shivers under their weight but, if Raine is relying on his diplomacy, then he has no choice but to step forward.

“Hello. My name is Aerin Valleros, emissary of the Commander of the Armies of Light,” Aerin bobs his head in greeting and gestures to each of his party, “and these are my companions, Imtrua Tal Kaelen, of the United Clans of Flotilla, and Nia Ellarious, Head Priestess of the High Temple of Whitetower.”

If the vhampyr knew of them, he did not react, only continued to drive his eerie gaze straight into Aerin’s soul.

Aerin inhales before continuing. “We are here on behalf of the Commander to discuss a matter of deep import that would affect the entire realm.”

Still, the vhampyr says nothing, the silence eerie and cold, though his long fingers tighten against the doorway. Slowly, he steps back, and Aerin shares a glance with Nia and Imtura. Shrugging, Imtura takes a step forward and, as her foot hovers over the threshold, Aerin grabs her arm, stopping her in her tracks. She only raises an eyebrow but obliges, taking a step back.

Aerin addresses the vhampyr. “May we come in?”

His heart hammers as he waits but, finally, there is a slight smile and the ghoul speaks at last, voice like the rattle of a scroll over every consonant. “Please be welcome.”

They follow his silent footsteps and, in a low tone, Aerin whispers, “We need to be invited inside. It’s important to them.”

Imtura only shrugs and ducks as they follow down a pale stairwell, torches lighting the way on each side. Aerin loses track of how deep into the earth they travel, but, eventually, the stairs open into a wide entryway where three additional vhampyrs await them. This is obviously the ruling family. There’s a broad man clad in a black cape, looking impossibly tall in the flickering torches. The woman beside him is adorned in a dazzling deep red gown, lace dancing up a gray collarbone to highlight a dazzling blood-red gemstone dangling from a satin ribbon. And then there’s a girl, perhaps twelve, looking intently at them, clad in a simple dark shroud clamped tightly around her torso with thin hands that taper off into pointed nails.

“Hello.” Aerin nods and, though his mouth runs suddenly dry, he curls his fingers into his palms and continues. “I am is Aerin Valleros, the emissary of the Commander of the Armies of Light, and these are my companions, Imtrua Tal Kaelen, of the United Clans of Flotilla, and Nia Ellarious, Head Priestess of the High Temple of Whitetower.” Imtura and Nia step forward, Nia with a small curtsy.

The three vhampyrs turn and look at each other before the man steps forward. “I am Baron Claudius, and this is Madame Miriam.” The woman curtsies as she is introduced, and a hint of fang peeks out underneath burgundy lipstick. “And this little one is Lady Lilith. Thank you for respecting our customs; as we would not seek to enter your home uninvited, we appreciate your courtesy of the same.” The child smiles, a tight, forced movement, and terror creeps up Aerin’s spine.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, and we thank you for your hospitality. We come about a war brewing in the realm of Light and seek your assistance.”

“A war?” Madame Miriam, mouth agape.

Imtura jumps in. “And it will come for you if we can’t stop it.”

“Ha. War does not concern us,” Baron Claudius scoffs. “We have seen many wars over the millennia and outlasted them all.”

Aerin tries not to shiver as he speaks, but the underground chill winds its way through his tunic. “This war is different. The Old Gods come for the Realm, and they shall spare none.”

The Baron stares at him, eyes narrow, before turning back to his companions for another round of wordless conversation. Aerin barely has a moment to wonder if they’re in each other’s minds when there is a hum, right in the center of forehead, and then a soft whir of static stretching to his temples.

‘No.’

He purposely clears his mind, surveying each of the vhampyrs in turn, the frown of the Baron, the smirk of Madame Miriam’s rouged lips, the forceful eyes of Lady Lilith.

‘Begone!’

With a sigh, the static recedes. He tries to catch the eye of one of his companions, to see if they had felt the same, when Madame Miriam speaks.

“We could… we could discuss the matter over our evening meal.”

“Splendid,” the Baron nods, but his smile stays contained to his lips. “Come.”

With only a worried glance between each other, Aein, Nia, and Imtura make their way further into the crypts.

Aerin wonders if he should have turned around then, should have fled, given up on the vhampyr allies and ran, like a coward.

He has plenty of experience in that, after all.

No. Not anymore. Not now, he wouldn’t have. He remembers his last conversation with Raine, the earnestness on her face, her hands sure and soft in his.

Even knowing his fate rests within these damp walls, he would do it all over again.

~~~~~

On the third day, Lady Lilith brings him a tray of food in person.

The blanket is still wrapped around his legs, accomplishing nothing against the frigid underground floor, but he scrambles up as soon as he sees her.

“Lady Lilith, hello.” He bows his head. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“I come with your breakfast.”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t need to lift the lid to know it is the fat and muscle of some unfortunate animal. Raw. The smell is familiar enough by now. “I would offer you a seat but, as you see, I have no chair.”

“I prefer the floor.” She gracefully lowers to the ground, knees tucked primly beneath her, and studies him under eyelashes that are tinged with white. “You know, we do get some word of human events.”

“Truly?” he asks, placing the platter down before joining her on the ground.

“Yes. We know a bit of the outside world, but had no idea the emissaries of Light would dare come see us.” Lady Lilith looks about him, almost bored, but there is an edge to her voice that sets Aerin nerves aflame.

“And what do you hear from outside?”

“Snippets. Stories of those who live in the Light Realm.” She waves her hand, dismissive, unaffected. “The Elves have magic, the Orcan do not. And there are humans, like you.” Her violet eyes darken as they glare at him. “They serve a King. A Valleros King.”

Aerin freezes, breath shallow. “Oh?”

“You did say…” She leans forward so they are at eye level; he can see her pupils narrow in the center of her violet irises. “You did say your name was Aerin, correct?”

He doesn’t answer until her hand drapes over his shoulder, and those gray talons dig into his skin. “Yes.”

“Aerin Valleros.”

“Yes.”

She straightens with triumph in her eyes. “So we have a Little Prince, do we not?”

“You’ve heard of me? I’m flattered.” He’s sure his smirk wavers, and it takes every focus to steady it.

“Why does a Prince follow the Commander? Is that how it works in the human world?”

He takes too long to answer, and soon, the buzzing is back. Little Prince?

“Don’t call me that.”

Why not?

A memory resurfaces, Itty Bitty Prince, and he shoves it down, away, away. “So the two princes and the mercenaries awoke, and the drakna had recaptured them.”

This again?

“They all awoke inside the drakna nest, a vile place, these gross cocoons suspended over the forest floor. Just a mass of goo so thick the sunlight cannot penetrate.”

I don’t like sunlight anyway.

“I’m aware, but humans live in sunlight; we need it to see. So our mercenaries and princes were all trapped in this vile goo cocoon, and the hero rescued them.”

Wait, who is the hero?

“One of the mercenaries, please keep up.”

Ah, of course.

“She used her sword and arrows to free her friends and the princes and, while they all were rescued, they actually killed the drakna queen, the biggest and baddest of the monsters. But there was still trouble afoot.”

Does this story ever end?

“The princes were actually evil.”

Oooh, a twist. I like it.

“Yes, but the mercenaries didn’t know that. The princes are hiding their evil nature, one better than the other.”

Are they really evil? Or do people just think that they are evil because they don’t understand?

Aerin stops and stares at her, watching the violet in her eyes dim. He knows he’s out of practice dealing with emotions, but he is clever, quick-witted, and, after years of deception, he understands people. There’s something here. “Lady Lilith, will you speak with me? In person?” The static recedes.

“Aren’t you going to tell the rest of the story?” she asks aloud.

“I don’t think you’re evil. You know that, right? And neither does the Commander. If we did, we wouldn’t have come here. We wouldn’t want to be allies.”

Lady Lilith studies him for so long that he starts to fear he read her wrong. But then she leaps to her feet, her shroud swirling about her like a ghostly mist. “I will…” She opens the door and fixes him with an inscrutable glance. “I will speak with you tomorrow.”

~~~~~

And on that day, he’s starving.

“You know we don’t really eat this food, right?”

There is a pause in his brain. What do you mean?

“Humans need different food than you. We don’t drink-” He eyes the copper pitcher at his side dubiously. “-blood.”

There is a longer pause. You don’t?

“Do you remember being alive? Being mortal?”

Vaguely. It was so long ago.

“Well, when you were, I assure you, unless you were a mosquito, you did not drink blood.”

It’s been so, so long.

“You must have seen a lot of change.” Aerin wonders what it’s like to watch time flow past you while you yourself remain still. Probably like watching Whitetower from a prison window, he supposes, or watching the walls of an underground crypt. Time passes somehow while you yourself don’t move.

It’s hard to keep track of, sometimes. I guess we forget how to care for a human.

“You should have started with a dog.”

She chuckles and the static blooms in his mind before trailing away and Aerin is, once again, alone with his thoughts.

He waits, watching the door, and when she doesn’t return after an interminable time, he peeks at the food under the platter. As he guessed, inedible raw meat of indeterminate origin. However, he’s out of options.

Snatching a torch from the wall, he does his best. Tilting the platter lets him rotate the meal without touching it and, though it burns his fingers a few times, eventually he can make enough of a char that at least it isn’t raw.

His own warnings about the vhampyr food echo as he takes his first bite. And then his second. And then he is losing count, for the bites that follow consist of him ingesting the food as fast as he can.

His stomach roils as he finally empties the platter and, while his vision is a little wonky, he feels decent - well, as decent as one can be when trapped in a crypt full of vhampyrs. So he supposes that’s something.

~~~~~

Worse than the hunger is the solitude. It's tedious, pacing the four walls of his cell, one direction and then the other to break up the monotony. And it's also terribly lonely. Ever since he rejoined Raine and her party, he had thought - hoped - that the heartache that followed him since birth might be healing, every jovial conversation and gentle caress sewing up a deep pain like mending a rip in fabric.

Unfortunately, it's easier to be alone when it's all you know; now that he's known friendship, love, well, this loneliness is excruciating.

On day five, Lady Lilith finally returns with some water.

“Oh, hello, Lady Lilith. You’re awake.” He clambers up and bows; time seems to flow differently within the four walls of his cell. Wasn’t it the middle of the day? “How can you spend your time speaking with me? Don’t you need to feed?”

Her laugh is bitter, older than time itself, and it sends a shiver down his spine. “I have servants to hunt for me. Here. Drink.”

He looks into the pitcher, eyebrow raised. There is a fir sprig floating at the top, and three shiny pebbles glint at the bottom. “Thank you.”

“It’s from the river in the woods. Far from Necropolis. It should be safe.”

He takes a tentative sip, and then another, and soon he is gulping his way through the entire pitcher. “It’s perfect. Hint of pine.”

“I can get more. Tomorrow. The sun will be up soon.”

“It will?” Without a window, time is meaningless.

She sits across from him, gnawing her lower lip where a smear of red appears to be drying. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Are you one of the princes?”

“Who? … oh, from the story.” He pauses. “I’m flattered that you’re actually invested in my tale.”

“Well?”

He checks his mind and, thankfully, he is alone; it’s much harder to deceive someone who can hear your thoughts.. “I am a prince but, Lady Lilith, it’s just a story.”

She frowns, as if his answer is unsatisfactory. “And how does it end, Little Prince?”

“Please stop calling me-”

“How does it end?”

“I… I’m not sure.” He knows how parts of the story end, of course, the defeat of the Dreadlord and the Ashen Empress, and the rise of Nifara. But the entire story? “I guess we will have to see when I get to the conclusion.”

“I like happy endings.”

“... I would not have guessed that.”

She giggles, hand over her lips, and only the pale skin and purple eyes give away the fact that she is not a normal child. “Who doesn’t like a happy ending? Will this story have a happy ending? Please?”

Aerin looks around the room, the windowless walls, the coffin as the sole piece of furniture, the fact that he hasn’t seen the sun in a week, and the only answer he can provide is “I’m not sure.”

~~~~~

“Please, be seated.”

The table is adorned with a tablecloth of deep red, a couple servants smoothing the edges while another carts pitchers to the table. Four serving platters sit covered, the closest just inches away from the ivory plate and crystal wine glass placed in front of him.

It smells of decay.

Imtura sits to his right, muscles tense and ready, while Nia’s face is only calm and curious. He sometimes envies her inner strength, her fortitude under challenging conditions, and never more so than now, as six unnaturally colored eyes follow his every move.

When the servants lift the platters’ covers with a flourish, Aerin can only stare in horror at what emerges underneath, more innards than he has ever seen - entrails, one platter stacked with hearts glistening so vividly that he can only imagine they were beating just hours ago, red jellied concoctions dotted with organ meat. Then, servants pour red liquid into his wine glass, and he needs to fight the dry heave as the smell of iron wafts up. Nia turns to him and all he can do is shake his head, subtly; they cannot and should not consume this.

“Thank you for your hospitality, but I regret that we cannot partake of your generosity this evening,” he says, swallowing down the bile, “Unfortunately we cannot eat a single-”

“Why?” Lady Lilith looks at him, tilting her head. “I assure you, these are from animals. No… humans were harmed in the making of this meal. You are a human, yes?” The last question is a purr, and all of Aerin’s hackles rise.

“I am. And we eat our meat-”

“If these delicacies were created from people, would you eat them?” Madame Miriam asks, and he could almost believe in her naivete had her eyes not been gleaming like the ruby at her throat.

His stomach turns. “Unfortunately, I would rather spend our time discussing the great threat to our Realm. The Commander of the Armies of Light is gathering allies-”

“And where is this Commander of yours?” Lady Lilith lifts her fork, sharp points of her fingernails gleaming like a knife edge, and, too swiftly for his eyes to catch, stabs it into the center of a heart, plucking it triumphantly from the platter. “Could they not come to beg for assistance themselves?”

Imtura crosses her arms over her chest. “Unfortunately, she’s busy at the moment.”

“But we are her trusted emissaries and I assure you that any agreement we make will be-” Aerin jumps in, but it’s too late.

“We would prefer to discuss the matter with your Commander.” Baron Claudius interjects around a mouthful of liquid. Aerin is watching a drop of red pool at the corner of his lips, just beginning to descend down his graying chin when he feels it - again - the buzz in his mind.

Quickly, he surveys the table; the Baron still swigs his blood, Madame Miriam is cutting a piece of jellied carcass, but Lady Lilith, the young one, is staring at him as if she were trying to drill through his skull.

He imagines that she is.

‘Begone from my mind.’

He realizes in shock that he has found the leader of the fang line, in the guise of a small slender child.

Her voice is a hiss in his head. ‘You’re clever, Little Human.’ It’s nauseating, the familiarity of another’s voice in his brain, another’s whispers he can’t drown out; this time, there is no stone to rip from his chest to end the hushed tone rattling his brain.

‘Begone,’ he grinds back. ‘Leave my head.’ When the static doesn’t abate, he fills his head with song, as loudly as he can without moving his lips. Just when Gartho is about to abscond with the queen’s buttons and hood, it’s gone. The roar leaves his head, and he is left with blessed silence.

“Do you really think we should get involved in the affairs of mortals?” Madame Miriam is asking once his attention returns to the table.

The Baron opens his mouth to reply, but Lady Lilith beats him to it, standing with a clatter. “We may, but only if we can speak to this Commander herself.”

The other two vhampyrs stand, and Aerin is wise enough to know they are being dismissed, so he stands as well, Nia and Imtura following.

“We will relay this information and return post haste. I am sure that -”

“Not all of you will.” Lady Lilith’s mouth opens into a smile that showcases her shiny, deadly teeth; Aerin averts his eyes. “One of you will stay. To ensure she will come.”

“Excuse me? No one is staying.” Imtura takes a step forward, as if to go through the table, but Aerin stops her with a hand on her bicep.

Lady Lilith’s eyes flash molten violet, and she says, “I want an assurance that your Commander will visit us in person. Either two of you leave or none of you do.”

Aerin has made many misjudgments in his life, far too many to count, but he’s sure that this could play out one of two ways. In one scenario, he, Nia, and Imtura die. And in the other? “Fine,” he replies, directly to Lady Lilith and her fanged smile.

“Aerin, what do you-?”

“Nia, it’s fine.”

Lady Lilith’s smile grows wider, and she claps her hands together in murderous glee. “Excellent. It’s decided. The human boy will stay.”

“No.” Imtura moves as if to reach for her axes, and his fingers tighten.

“Imtura, stop.”

“Have you lost it, landrat?”

“It’s fine.” He grinds out, dropping his voice to a whisper. “They could kill us all before you manage to pull one ax, I assure you.”

“We can’t leave you here, Raine will-”

“Raine will come. We will have our detente. It will be fine.” He holds her gaze, just long enough that she softens, and then he drops her arm with a sigh. Turning to the vhampyrs, he speaks louder. “And you assure me that they will have safe passage out of the city?”

“Surely. We’d never go back on our word.” Lady Lilith’s smirk does not give him confidence, but none of this plan gives him any kind of surety.

He steps forward with one last glance to Nia and Imtura, hoping they can read his plea to flee. And then, turning to the vhampyr leader, he nods. “I will stay.”

“Splendid. Follow me. I will show you to your quarters.”

He doesn’t watch Nia and Imtura leave - he can’t. Unfortunately, he lacks the bravery to watch them go silently, to not call out to them and beg them to wait, so he doesn’t even turn. He only follows Lady Lilith’s careful footsteps down more steps than he can count, mind-boggling pathways carved of the earth and inhabited for thousands of years. Just when he is sure he’s seen these particular cobblestones previously on their trek, she stops, pointing to a doorway.

“And this is where you will stay.”

Aerin’s eyes widen as he takes in the room. He’s definitely stayed in worse accommodations, but, with the past year at his back, his hackles rise at yet another prison cell. His fingers tremble, and his breath hitches shortly, hints of gray at the edges of his vision, before he can return to himself. Vaguely, so long ago it may have been another life, he remembers telling Raine to take a deep breath, right when the current of pain threatened to tear her away, and he is grateful for the reminder even as he stores it as far out of reach as possible. He inhales, slowly, and glances around.

There is one large room, windowless like all the others, and the three torches are too few to provide much light in the chilly chamber. To the right is a small door, almost certainly leading to a washroom or lavatory, but his gaze is transfixed by the deep mahogany at the center of the room.

“Is that… is that meant to be my bed?”

“Yes?” Lady Lilith eyes him, and he tries to stifle his discontent. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s just… humans don’t sleep in coffins.”

“Then what do you sleep in?”

“Beds?”

She narrows her eyes, pondering. “You know, I vaguely remember beds.”

“Do you? Because this is not exactly…”

“It will need to do.” Her voice sounds curt, eyes assessing. “If your Commander is all you claim, you won’t be here for long.”

“She is all I claim and more.”

“Well, then.”

She turns to leave, but Aerin stops her with one more question. “Am I truly to remain stuck in this room?”

“It’s safer for you if you do.” She yanks open the door, forcefully, and Aerin is struck, but the incongruity of her slight frame and the fearsome strength it holds. “But this lock here will make sure of it.”

The door closes with a slam, and his shoulders droop. He should be used to prisons. He’s been in his fair share recently.

But none so unnervingly creepy.

When his eyes fly open, his mind is ablaze in static and he sits up in a panic, shockingly thrown awake in a mere instant. “I can sing you the ballad - it’s a good one. How Gartho Swindled the Elven Queen.”

No need.

“Did you know that the mercenaries helped at the Battle of Whitetower?” His stomach aches, an empty yawning sensation that makes it hard to focus on his words.

Do you dream often?

“Never. I never do.”

Don’t lie to me, Little Prince.

He squints his eyes, trying to fight back the buzz in his mind. “Perhaps I prefer to keep my dreams to myself.”

Why? That was a boring dream. And I was there for it; I already knew what happened. Do you know why I wanted you to stay?

“Stay here?”

Yes.

He’s not entirely sure he wants to know the answer. “Why?”

Because you fought me. The others, the green one, your pretty friend, they didn’t even know I was there.

“You mean they didn’t know you were in their heads?” So much for his advice.

The green one thinks of her mother. And the pretty one wanted to help us. But you? You fought me. And after so long, I do like a challenge?

“So if I had let you see into my mind, you would have let me go?”

Maybe. Maybe not. It may still have ended up like your dream. Who knows?

After a life lived as a miserable failure, it’s only fitting that his success lead him into a vhampyr’s lair. “Do you dream?”

Lady Lilith hums, and it makes his brain shake. Sometimes. Sometimes I dream of things far past, of people I once cared for. Do you?

I do not, I do not, I do not. Perhaps if he repeats it enough, it will be true.

I can tell you are lying.

“I dream of the mercenaries.” He will never reveal the dreams he revels in, keeps close to his heart. “Where did I leave off in my tale?”

Your stories are tiresome.

“I am tiresome. So the mercenaries were just leaving the forest with the evil princes when they had to part ways.”

Why?

“They were going in separate directions, but one of the evil princes knew they would meet again.”

How?

“Uh… evil ways?” Aerin shrugs, even though she cannot see it, and continues on. “But they do meet again. Later. The mercenaries go on their way to the Elven city, and the princes return home to the palace.”

What is the Elven city like?

“I’ve never been.” He’d always wanted to visit, had read tomes about it at the Archives, but only King Arlan and the Crown Prince had been permitted to visit. “I’ve heard it chiseled into a mountain.”

So there is no daylight. Maybe I could visit.

“Would you like to?”

Yes. There is… much in this world I have not seen.

“Odd, since you’ve been alive for so long.”

Most places do not take kindly to immortal visitors and most people do not visit us. We’ve never had a human visitor before.

“Can’t imagine why,” Aerin mumbles.

We’ve had humans come, a few, but only to request to be turned. Or to hunt us.

“I can imagine that those hunters turned into the hunted.”

She chuckles. Yes, very quickly… and deliciously.

“Did you turn any of them?”

The ones we took a liking to. Sometimes, it doesn’t work and they perish, most painfully.

He shudders. If his current predicament is bad, he can’t imagine worse.

What is it like in the human world?

The question seems honest, curious, and the static doesn’t deepen - she’s not probing his thoughts and memories for information. “It’s not underground, for one. Our buildings are above ground since we can be in the sunlight, and there are towns and cities where many humans live together, much like this.”

Are they all related? Like us?

“Not everyone in a city, but families will usually share a home.”

Do you have a home?

His gut twists and his fingers tremble, a curious unsettling shake, so he curves his hands into fists so tight his fingernails dig into flesh. “I did. Once. But now I travel by the Commander’s side, mostly.”

So you are always working.

“It’s not always work. We share meals, for example, share stories. Campfires and adventures and… other things.” Aerin needs to screw his eyes shut to hide the tears welling just behind his eyelids. Thinking about Raine hurts.

You are very loyal to your Commander.

“I wasn’t always.” It might be a mistake to divulge, but his situation can’t get much worse. “We went through a lot of struggles to get to where we are.”

Why? Is… Is your Commander mean?

“What? No! The struggles were mine and mine alone.” He swallows hard. “The Commander is… incredible. You will see when you meet her.”

Do you still think she is coming?

He doesn’t answer the question. In his heart, he knows that she would never leave any of them behind. But in his mind, well, he can see the danger of bringing the entire party to Necropolis and, if she had to lose a member of her party, unfortunately, the non-magical weakling betrayer would be the most logical choice, regardless of whatever undefined attachment existed between them.

Lady Lilith continues. Or do you think she will leave you to be locked away with the vhampyrs, never to be freed?

He doesn’t answer that question either, but shoots back one of his own. “If she does come, what will you do when she arrives?”

Lady Lilith doesn’t reply.

~~~~~

It starts slowly.

His mind starts to play tricks on him, a flash of light where none exists, a phantom touch when he’s alone. He opens his eyes to see Raine, standing in a corner looking downcast; when he leaps up to greet her, she disappears, his hands wrapping around cold air.

He could almost brush it off as a symptom of imprisonment when the cough begins, settling in his chest as a heavy weight.

His voice cracks in the middle of the tale. He’s just recounting how the mercenaries are gathering troops to fight the Ashen Empress when Lady Lilith interjects.

Do you need water?

“From the river? Sure, thank you.”

When Lady Lilith returns, he’s overheating despite the chill, traces of sweat beginning at his hairline, slipping down his face.

“Are you alright?”

“Of course.” He wipes his brow. “Now where was I?”

“The evil Ashen Empress. Was she evil like the princes?”

“I…” It takes him far longer than he’d like to answer this question. “No. The princes were different. The Empress wanted to kill everyone.”

“Sometimes those that the world thinks are murderers are actually something different.”

His head begins to throb. “Lady Lilith, are you speaking in riddles?”

“No, continue, continue. So the mercenaries prepare for war.”

“Yes. So they all get ready, very exciting. Even the bard is there.”

“Who?”

“The hero’s brother. He tells stories, sings tales of old.”

“Like you?”

“This isn’t a tale of old! This was about the Battle of-”

“I thought it was just a story.” Lady Lilith narrows her eyes.

“Of course it is.”

“Then, will you ever tell me the ending? How does it end?”

He doesn’t know; he can only pray - not here, not here, please, not here. “I will tell you the end, but-” He’s cut off by a cough. “Do you… do you mind if we continue the story later? I’m not… I forget the words.”

Lady Lilith looks confused, but nods. Aerin doesn’t look up as she leaves, only focusing on a singular point on the stone floor to keep the nausea at bay.

~~~~~

Seven days.

Fourteen meals.

Though he may have lost count.

~~~~~

Ten days.

The world sways, as if his vision were failing or if he were no longer on solid ground, instead tilted at stomach-churning angles.

That morning (or whatever ill-defined time the exhaustion threatens to take him away), he can’t take the chill of the floor any longer, so he grabs the wispy blanket and crawls into the coffin.

The walls are green velvet, soft, and it’s absurdly comfortable.

Dimly, before sleep takes him, he thinks that he might want to stay there forever.

~~~~~

Thirteen days.

The blood in his veins burns. Is it his own?

If they were going to come, wouldn’t they be here by now?

~~~~~

“And then the portals opened, and the battle began.” Aerin tries to move his eyelids, but they only open halfway. He can see the ceiling through the flutter of his lashes, and the sweat pouring off him has soaked the velvet of his coffin. If he could get up, he’s sure he would see a wet imprint of his body in darkened green, but he can’t even imagine moving.

“Were they all there?”

“Hmmm…. Who?” Aerin’s losing his mind and he’s pretty sure he lost the plot of his own story, but he can see the moon from his cell twirling in frantic circles before his eyes but he’s underground (he thinks, he thinks) so he’s sure he’s seeing things but can he truly be sure of anything anymore? What story was he telling?

“The mercenaries?”

“Where?”

“At the battle against the Ash Empress!”

“Ah, yes. They were there. They all were. The Hero, the priestess, the Orcan princess, the grumpy mage, the insufferable rogue.”

“Was the bard there?”

He blinks. The walls appear to be dripping blood. “Yes. Why? Is that your favorite character?”

“I appreciate a good storyteller.”

“Ah…” Aerin trails off as his vision is almost entirely red. “Well, I do… I do apologize that I am not…” And then there is only darkness.

~~~~~

It’s dark.

It’s always so dark.

~~~~~

“Wake up, wake up, wake up, Little Prince!”

It’s painful to open his eyes. His head hammers in pain, almost overpowering Lady Lilith’s words, but he can hear the years in her voice over his headache. “What?”

“You need to stay awake, Little Prince.”

He is exhausted, so bone-weary that the strength to hold her gaze is painful. “I want to sleep.”

“No.” There is panic in the word. “No, you mustn’t, you mustn’t.” He nods, but his eyes slide shut. “No! Please. Tell me… tell me about the story.”

“What about it?” he murmurs.

“It’s always been real, hasn’t it?”

His lips are so dry that he tastes blood every time he licks his lips. “What has?”

“The story. The mercenaries.”

“Of course… mostly.” Even his bones are tired, but he doesn’t need to defend himself from the outside voices in his brain anymore. His mind is empty.

“Little Prince.” Lady Lilith grabs his shoulders and shakes; he winces. “Sorry. Tell me the story again.”

“Which one?”

“Any one.” His eyes flutter shut, and she rubs his shoulder, gentler this time. “Aerin!”

“The Heroes went into the forest and defeated the monsters and saved the princes. And they all fought a God of Old. It was real.”

“You were there.”

“Yes, we all were.” The cold has seeped into his brain, and every inhale audibly cracks his ribs.

“Your companions? The travelers we dined with? They were there?” He can only nod. “And who is your green friend?”

“The tough one.”

“And the pretty human?”

“The kind one.”

“And which character are you?”

There are spots in Aerin’s visions, dark masses that sway about the periphery. “The one who either leaves…” He breaks off with a cough so deep it feels like it’s scarring his lung with every forceful exhale. “Or gets left behind.” And then the black spots enlarge and swallow him whole.

~~~~~

There’s sunlight. Aerin looks around him in awe. There’s sunlight!

He takes a deep breath of the fresh forest air, looking around in utter delight. The canopy of trees about his head is sparse, allowing ample daylight to filter through, and the harmonies of song and merriment carry down a dirt path.

As he steps forward, he realizes in an instant where he is. These are the woods outside Riverbend and, as he turns the corner nearing the temple, he stops short at the figure waiting for him, lounging on a boulder.

“Raine!” He jogs forward, smiling growing wider with every step, until he slows when he is mere feet from her. As she stands, there is fury painting her flawless features. “Raine, what’s wrong?”

Her voice drips venom. “You lied to me.”

“What?” He wracks his brain for deception and nothing comes. “I… no, no longer. What do you mean?”

“You said you would come back.”

“I… I am here now.” He’s not quite sure what she’s referring to, but he’s standing right before her, in the flesh. “I am here. I will always be here.”

“That is not true, Aerin. That is what you do. You leave.”

“But I -”

“You leave me.”

“No.” He shakes his head frantically. “No, I never wish to be parted from you, you know that. I would never, never again.” His legs carry him forward to embrace her, but she only steps away, tears brimming in her eyes.

“You promised.” A sudden wind whips through the wood as she turns away, leaden steps taking her further from him. “Aerin,” she calls over her shoulder, “you promised.”

“Wait.” He wraps his arm around his torso; the wind turns frigid, so cold, always so cold, and she crests over a hill and out of side. “Wait!” His useless feet won’t move and the chill settles in his bones. Is this his destiny? Doomed to be separated from the one person whom his heart beats for?

The chattering of his teeth awakens him.

When Aerin opens his eyes, Lady Lilith stands above him, worry lines etched in the pale skin of her forehead.

“That’s not concerning.” A cough cuts him off, and he waits until his lungs stop rattling to speak. “Not concerning at all, waking up to a vhampyr staring at you.”

“I would change you.” She whispers, urgently. “If I had to, I would.”

“No.” More coughing. “No.” His mind flashes to a millennium without sunlight, missing the golden rays of sunshine peeking over the Cartesian Sea, the bustle of the Whitetower marketplace, the sun gleaming off Raine’s hair, her smile as they hike through woods bathed in the afternoon warmth. “Don’t change me.”

Lady Lilith blinks back tears, though a few break free to edge over her cheekbone. They glisten in the torchlight, like dew at breaking dawn, a sight he shall never see again.

His own eyes start to sting, sweat trailing down his face, and there’s salt on his tongue. Lady Lilith grabs his hand, clutching it carefully in her corded strength, holding tight until the darkness welcomes him again.

~~~~~

Days fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen don’t count.

He doesn’t wake up for them.

~~~~~

He can hear the voice above him, and it could be a dream; it must be a dream.

His mind is his own, but it’s playing tricks on him, assuredly, because it sounds like Raine is standing right above his head.

He’s flying, the room spinning in circles about him, and if he looks at the walls about him, they blur as if he turning around and around, faster and faster, and there is a light, somewhere, from outside, or maybe inside his skull, and he is dying, he is dead; he has been reborn, and he cannot breathe.

He rolls over and vomits.

As he’s wiping bile from his lips, the door opens and Lady Lilith storms in. “Let’s get you up, Little Prince.”

“Please stop calling me that.” He wipes his lips on his sleeve and his teeth chatter against the fabric. It’s so cold.

“You need to get up. We have guests.”

“What- who-”

With superhuman strength, she jostles him until, while he may be on two feet, he is mostly leaning on her, draped over a small shoulder as he takes one stuttering step after another. They travel through the crypts, torchlight causing shadows to jump across the walls, making him nauseous anew, but finally, they reach a wooden door.

Even though it’s latched tight, he can hear voices on the other side. Loud. Unyielding. “I demand my diplomat.”

Aerin raises his head. “Raine? Is it really-”

The static invades his skull again. Who is she?

“Stop, please stop!” He tries to sing Gartho the Trickster but he can’t focus; his temples throb and besides, all that matters is that Raine is on the other side of this damnable door.

Who is she?

“She’s the Hero.”

Who?

“The Hero of Morella, Commander of the all the Forces of Light, Savior of the Reams and Champion to All, please just-”

Lady Lilith shifts him so she can peer into his face. She speaks now, out of his head, her voice a whisper in the hall. “Is she the same hero from the mercenary tale? With the princes?”

“Yes.” Aerin is too weak to lie; he can’t even raise his hands to wipe the moisture pooling in his eyes. “Please, just- I just need to see her.”

The vhampyr leader is silent for far too long before she lowers him to the ground, crouching in the dirt beside him. “Aerin.” Her palm graces his cheek and it’s cold, so cold, and the shivering hurts his teeth. “How does the story end?”

And he doesn’t think, just replies, too weak to manufacture any artifice. The story ends the only way possible, the only way it can truly end, and, when he trails off into silence, her violet eyes glisten with unshed tears.

Finally, she stands and speaks. “Wait here.” With that command, she strides through the doorway and he hears the dull sound of a latch locking.

Aerin could almost cry, in an inglorious heap, with one measly door between him and Raine. He crawls forward over the rough earth, stones digging into his fingertips and leaving bloody droplets in the dirt. When he makes it to the door, he lifts his hands to bang against the wood but his fists barely make a sound; he is so weak, so tired, and the grains of the wooden boards are swirling before his eyes. He can’t even yell, voice a mere croak, and he slides in defeat down to the floor.

He has failed, he realizes. He was not able to broker an accord, was not even able to get any kind of agreement, and he wasn’t able to protect Raine.

And then the ground rushes up to meet his face and there is only silence.

~~~~~

He’s in the air, he’s flying, he’s falling.

There’s yelling, but it’s not him; his mouth feels like it has been stuffed with gauze, and his eyes only open wide enough for his lashes to flutter tremulously in his vision but he’s on his feet, somehow.

There’s the unsheathing of a sword.

More yelling.

The sheathing of a sword.

A flash of yellow and gold in front of him, steady arms holding him up as his boots struggle and fail to find purchase on the floor.

Safety.

“I’m sorry,” he says the words into the armor mushed into his cheek, but he’s not sure anyone can hear him. His throat is so raw, he can barely hear himself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. For all of it.”

More yelling.

Static and buzzing, traveling from his forehead to his ears, just a roar frying his brain cells, and he can’t even fight it as he passes out again.

He awakens again to a flash of green, and he’s soaring through the air anew; while there is less screaming, he’s numb and cannot feel a thing. The world spins and that’s when his brain shuts down.

~~~~~

When he awakens, actually awakens, he is in a plush bed, and light streams into the room. It’s been so long since he has seen the sun that he only gapes at the golden rays streaming through the window. The room is warm, especially under plush covers, and it’s been so long since he’s seen sunlight and felt warmth on his skin that he props up on one wavering elbow and stares for minutes until he realizes, with a start, that he’s in Raine’s palace room.

“Good morning.”

He starts again at a voice to his left and, though it aches, he turns to see Raine perched on a chair, staring at him and gnawing on her bottom lip. He means to say hello, truly he does, but all that emerges from his mouth is “Oww.”

“Are you ok?” She’s at his side in an instant.

“I love you.” It’s raspy but audible, and he sighs as he sinks back into the plush mattress.

“That… is not an answer to my question.”

“I know, but I spent the last few weeks wondering if I could ever say it again, so I didn’t want to miss my moment.”

She shakes her head fondly and threads a hand through his curls before carefully sliding onto the bed next to him. “I love you, too.”

“I had a feeling,” he replies; she chuffs his shoulder and, for the first time in weeks, he feels like he can relax. “I told you I would come back.”

“Do not- Do not joke about that. Do you know what state we found you in?”

“A state befitting of my heroic deeds?”

“I thought you were going to die!” The arm that has wound its way around his waist squeezes tighter. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Eh, I was fine. I will be fine. Just a few more minutes, and I will be right as rain.” His eyes flutter shut, only to fly open again. “Did they agree?”

“Who?”

“Lady Lilith. Did she - did she agree to have the vhampyrs join us?”

“She did…” Raine’s words are careful, slow. “We had quite the discussion while you were close to death.”

“Sounds enlightening; my apologies for missing it. What did she say?”

“She said you taught her a lot about humans.”

“Hmmm… like that we don’t drink blood?”

“Among other things. She said that if you personally go to inform them of the battle, their forces will join.”

“Couldn’t someone else go? Mal? He would love the trip, I’m sure.”

“She specifically requested you. She seemed to like you.”

He quirks a shoulder. “I didn’t know what to expect of the vhampyrs. They seemed… lonely.”

“She said you told her stories.”

“I did.” He chuckles at that. “She kept trying to read my mind. And you know how I like my secrets.”

“She said you told of the mercenaries of Lord Kelvin Gillbottle.” A sad smile plays on her lips. “Aerin? Did you truly believe I would leave you?”

“What do you mean? No! Not really. “

“What do you mean, not really?”

“I guess - the longer it was there, the harder it was to tell the difference between what was real and what was not. But I knew, in my heart, I knew you would come for me.”

“Then… why is that not the story you told her?”

“What are you talking about?”

“She said that, every night, you would tell her the story of us meeting in the Deadwood. And that, in every telling, the mercenaries realized the princes were evil and tortured them. Killed one in cold blood. And I locked the other away with the vhampyrs, never to be freed, as revenge for his disloyalty.”

He blinks. “That’s not how I said the story ended.” He tries to sit up, but it is futile until Raine slides her arm around him, a line of solid strength and care propping him up.

“That’s what she told me.”

“That trickster… Raine, that’s not the ending I made up.”

Her eyes, large and bright in sunshine, bore into his. “Then how did you end the tale?”

“I said…” He breaks off with another cough and she hands him a waterskin; the liquid is mercifully cool on his throat. “I said that the mercenaries met two evil princes in the forest.”

“Aerin, that’s not…”

“Shhh, it’s my story. I said that the mercenaries met two evil princes in the forest. One died.” Raine’s face softens at this, but she doesn’t interrupt, so he continues. “The other realized the error of his ways. He- he fell in love with one of the mercenaries, the hero, and stayed by her side, forever, until the end of time.”

She bites her lip, eyes welling with unshed tears, and, just as Aerin moves to apologize, she nods. “Yes. That is exactly how the story ends.”

#aerin valleros #blades of lights and shadow #fanfic writers are the best

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