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syndrossi · 4 months ago

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And now for a continuation of what I'm calling the Rescue AU aka "what if Ser Thoren successfully extracted the boys from the Gates of the Moon?" Part 1 and premise can be found here. It ended pretty abruptly, and so we pick up pretty abruptly! This one has a more proper "end" to it, though it's not finished.

x~x~x

“May we go to the market on River Row?” Rhaegar asked. He seemed to pick up on Daemon’s surprise at the request, adding, “Laenor mentioned it before. He said they have all manner of wares from within the realm, and even from across the Narrow Sea.”

“We may,” Daemon said, warmed by the pleased smile he received in response. “Do you seek anything in particular?”

He had presented them with gifts for three of their name days thus far, but that still left five. And some of his other planned gifts would not be ready for months. Any insight into what his children enjoyed was sorely welcome. They spent so little time at play, too serious about their studies.

“Princess Rhaenyra said that your name day is in less than three moons,” Rhaegar said, smile turning stern. “So you must not look if we choose something for you.”

Daemon had not celebrated his name day in nearly a decade, other than alone with Caraxes and one of the few barrels of good wine that made it on occasion to the Stepstones by way of Driftmark. His last true celebration had been a pleasant supper with Viserys, Aemma, and Rhaenyra, followed by a drunken night of debauchery in Flea Bottom that had earned his brother’s disapproval in the morning upon hearing of it.

It had been only two moons after Viserys had quietly taken him aside and “suggested” that he take Lord Beesbury as an advisor in his yet-new position of master of coin. Daemon had known the true source of the suggestion: Otto Hightower. Daemon had been only three moons in the office and still learning its scope; bringing in the former master of coin to all but do his job for him had been clearly intended to undermine him by implying he could not manage on his own.

That was the one office Daemon had resigned from before his brother could directly dismiss him, as he made a habit of. That had been before he’d realized just how short his leash would be for any office while Otto Hightower whispered in his ear simultaneously of Daemon’s immaturity and ambition.

A hand squeezed his, jolting him from his thoughts. “Father?” It was Rhaegar’s voice, gentle with concern, rather than stilted as it could sometimes be when addressing him.

Daemon smoothed wisps of light hair from his son’s forehead, then rested his hands on either cheek, heart a jumbled mess between the sentiment and the barest trace of wariness that lurked in his eyes whenever Daemon behaved in a way he did not expect. He kissed his brow, vowing that one day Rhaegar would come to expect only love at the hands of family, rather than the cold indifference—or worse—he had suffered under the Royce household.

“You can give me no greater gift than your company that day,” he said, transferring a hand to Jon’s cheek as well.

Jon gave a solemn nod. “But if I wrap Rhaegar to leave outside your door, who will wrap me?”

Daemon nearly choked on his laugh, the humor entirely unexpected. His eldest was quite sneaky in that regard, though both had a similarly clever wit. He feared for whoever might earn their wrath once they reached adolescence.

“Would you like a small purse apiece for the market, then?” he asked. “So that you are spared solving such a riddle?”

“There is no need,” Rhaegar said, revealing a bulging purse beneath his jacket. “Uncle Viserys gave us an allowance for it.”

“That was very generous of him,” Daemon said, smiling to mask a sudden flood of resentment at the reminder that nothing that he had to offer them was his own. It was all through Viserys and the royal treasury. He had no holding of his own to build an income, nor would he.

Curious stares followed them through the streets, news of the strange circumstances of his sons’ birth having traveled beyond the court. Laenor had informed him with great enthusiasm that a troupe of mummers were at work on a new play with a working title of “The Hidden Princes and the Witch of Runestone.”

If his sons were uneasy with the attention, they did not show it, more fascinated by the sights and sounds of the city. I should have taken them out sooner, Daemon thought fondly. There was a minstrel at one corner, playing the lute outside of a tavern to lure travelers in, and Rhaegar’s head tilted a moment, listening, before his eyes brightened. He hurried over, Daemon and Jon a few steps behind, and joined the minstrel in his song, his higher pitch shifting into an effortless harmony.

The minstrel looked startled by the sudden accompaniment, and even perhaps dismayed to find himself outperformed by a small child, but his eyes took in Daemon as he approached, and the princely attire his sons were wearing—as well as the growing crowd, drawn by the unusual spectacle as well as the sweetness of the song—and the man seemed to then accept the situation as one of good fortune.

Daemon smiled as he watched Rhaegar, enjoying his son’s obvious joy at an excuse to sing. The song was familiar to him, one of a wandering hedge knight in search of a maiden he had spied bathing in the moonlight and fallen in love with, but rendered nearly haunting with the addition of Rhaegar’s voice, which made it into a duet of man and maiden.

At the final verse, the minstrel made as though to bow, only for Rhaegar to continue on alone for another four, and the tale went from one of happy reunion to bittersweet loss as the maiden revealed the true reason she had evaded the hedge knight’s pursuit: the waters had told her that when she found love at last, they would have but a year before death claimed them.

There were very few dry eyes in the crowd at the song’s conclusion, and there was a light ache in his own throat, but the ending seemed to upset Jon in particular, so Daemon wrapped him up in his arms. “It is only a song.”

“If he had not gone after her, they both would have lived,” Jon said into his abdomen.

“Perhaps so,” Daemon murmured, stroking fingers through his hair as he pondered why the song had touched him so. Elys and Corwyn had died two years after the twins’ birth, and his sons had thought them their parents most of their lives. Rhea’s death was still fresh for them as well, he supposed. “But the life of a hedge knight is not without peril. Perhaps he would have found death another way.”

Jon frowned, not liking that response, and Daemon sighed, releasing him. “Come, let us collect your brother from his admirers.”

The minstrel was splitting his attention between collecting the shower of coin that had fallen at the song’s conclusion and interrogating his son on where he had heard the additional verses.

“From a harpist who wandered through the Gates of the Moon,” Rhaegar said, beginning to look uncomfortable.

Daemon quickly moved into the man’s view, fixing him with a look that halted further questioning.

“My prince,” the minstrel said, bowing with a flourish. “What an honor to have the privilege of sharing a song with your son.”

“Indeed,” Daemon said, beckoning Rhaegar back to his side. “I suggest you content yourself with your good fortune.”

“I am sorry,” Rhaegar said once they were away from the gathered crowd, flicking anxious glances in Daemon’s direction. “I did not mean to—”

“Nonsense,” Daemon said firmly. “You may sing whenever you like. You upstaged that minstrel and he knew it.”

Rhaegar moved to walk at Jon’s side, whispering something quiet to him—another apology, perhaps? Jon shrugged, the motion stiff, but he summoned a small smile in response. Fortunately, the distraction of River Row seemed to take their minds off the matter. The street stank of fish, and was awash in colorful stalls loudly peddling their goods.

They were not even at the market square yet, and he had to corral them back within reach several times with stern warnings of pickpockets and unsavory characters who grew in number as Aegon’s Hill grew more distant.

The chaos was nigh unmanageable by the time they reached the market. They still drew glances, Daemon’s hair and attire—and Dark Sister at his side—making his identity plain. But the people in the market were here for one of two purposes: to sell or be sold to. They kept their gawking to sideways glances for the most part, aside from one very bold hand that curiously reached for his hair before being swatted aside.

The strong scent of cooked meat and vegetables from the side of the market that served tempting dishes that could be held in one’s hand to eat while walking covered up the worst of the encroaching smell of raw fish and nearby sewage. There were sweeter fares as well, including a stall that spun sugar into elaborate shapes to cool and be sold.

The peddlers’ calls grew particularly loud whenever they were noticed, to the point where Jon was beginning to look overwhelmed. Daemon was not without his own tension. Every voice that carried an accent from the Free Cities, and especially the occasional spoken Valyrian, transported him back to the crush and throng of the Stepstones.

They eventually reached a portion of the market that was less frantic, where he was no longer touching four different bodies at once, and Daemon slowly relaxed. The boys went from stall to stall with Daemon looking on a few steps back, moving with them. Occasionally they would lean in for hushed discussion, dark hair against light, then turn to him in unison with appraising eyes before resuming their conversation.

Daemon had no idea what they would decide upon for gifts, but he was greatly looking forward to finding out what they had deemed worthy. They had found something at the present stall, which seemed to be an assortment of leather goods ranging from cow’s hide to more exotic sources.

Jon looked back toward him. “Turn around,” he ordered. “She has to finish making it and then wrapping it.”

Daemon gamely turned away. “Tell me when it is safe to look.”

He contented himself with scanning the rest of the current extension of the market, occasionally meeting the quickly averted gaze of an onlooker startled to be caught. That was nothing he wasn’t accustomed to when walking about openly, though years ago in Flea Bottom, the denizens had come to view his frequent presence among them as something to be expected. When he truly wished to walk about without fuss, he went cloaked and hooded.

A startled cry rang out back toward the portion of the market they had just left, and Daemon glanced that way to see that one of the food stalls had caught flame. He could make out the shouts for water, and a few nearby peddlers flapped with cloth at the fire, seeking to smother it. It seemed to only inflame it somehow, the fire almost dancing from one stall to another, which then caught.

Daemon recognized in the louder murmurs of the crowd the sound of unease yielding to panic, his own alarm growing with it. Panic was unpredictable, and the crowd would seek whatever outlet they thought offered safety, willing to trample whoever got in their way.

He turned back to the stall, ready to sweep his children up and leave before the chaos reached them, only to find the stall empty and his sons nowhere in view. His mind blanked with incomprehension for a moment, breath catching in his throat, and he closed the distance to the stall in an instant, looking around wildly. His sons were nowhere to be seen, but there was a woman’s body in rapidly pooling blood slumped at the other side of the stall.

No. Daemon’s hand closed around Dark Sister’s hilt, an icy fear flooding his veins. He took a deep breath to call for them, only to freeze at the sudden prick of something sharp and metal against his back.

“Quiet,” a voice said behind him, soft and unaccented. “Do you wish to see your sons?”

“Where are they?” Daemon asked, holding perfectly still. He might be quick enough to move before the man behind him sunk his blade in, but he did not know if there were more. There must be, to have taken his sons away. “What do you want?”

“If you do as I say, I shall take you to them. Fight, and you will never see them again.” The man waited, as though to see if he intended to put up a struggle. “Remove your hand from your blade.”

Daemon stared forward, paralyzed by indecision. He could mean to kill me anyway. This may be intended to buy time so that they may take the boys further out of reach.

But what could he—or they—even want? If it was ransom they sought, then the more captives, the better. If it was revenge, they would have killed his sons, and Daemon after.

“That dragon blood of yours is worth a great deal,” the voice said with a hint of impatience. “But only balanced against the trouble you might cause. Remove your hand.”

Ransom, then. Daemon clutched that hope to his chest and released his grip on Dark Sister. His hand was grabbed and twisted behind his back, firmly but not painfully so, and he was guided between stalls, out of view. Then, something smooth and rounded was pressed into his hand.

“Drink this.”

The shouts in the market square had grown louder, and the wind was beginning to blow smoke in their direction. Daemon had spotted the occasional gold cloak earlier, but there were none to be seen now, the men likely moving to seek control of the fire or the crowd. There were far more pressing things for the people milling about the market to pay attention to than a prince tucked just out of view, a blade to his back.

“What is it?” Daemon asked, though he could guess. If it was not poison, then it was something intended to dull the senses and render him easy to move without struggle.

“Drink,” the man repeated. “Or I spill that royal blood onto the cobblestone, which would be a shameful waste.”

Daemon brought the bottle into view, its milky glass obscuring its contents save for a faintly darker line where the liquid within sloshed. A tiny cork served as a stopper.

I cannot see them again if I am sliced open in River Row.

Ransom could be paid. Daemon knew that Viserys would not hesitate on his behalf or his sons’, whatever objections Otto might raise.

He brought the cork to his teeth, and pulled it loose, then tipped the liquid back. He held it in his mouth for a few seconds, debating whether he could feign swallowing, but a hand closed over his lips and pinched his nostrils shut until he swallowed, at which point it moved to grip his right arm again. The man made no move to lead him anywhere, seeming content to wait for the potion to take its effect.

“You have not hurt them?” Daemon asked, unable to keep the desperation from his voice.

“They are not harmed,” the man said with a hint of amusement. “Though I cannot say the same for some of the others. I did warn them about Jon.”

A dizziness rolled over Daemon, followed by a heaviness that came in waves that settled deeper each time. At last he was prodded forward, and it took all his concentration to put one foot ahead of the other. Then another. Then—

#resonant 'verse rescue au #resonant concept writing #aka writing 2.5K of concept stuff instead of resonant like i should be

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 12 days ago

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CHAINS OF BONES: Dark!GOD aemond x reader fic (SNIPPET!!!!! TO CELEBRATE MY TWO YEAR ANNIVERSAY)

Tags: DARK AEMOND, GREEK MYTHOLOGY INSPIRED AU

🔷Summary: You are a servant working for the goddess Rhaenyra and the God Daemon. You are tasked with protecting the flowers and one day, you find yourself captured by rhaenyra's greatest enemy: Aemond.

🔷Author's note: Dark af.

WARNINGS: Misogny, (no kidding) emotional manpulation, dubcon, body betrayl, vaginal sex (f recv) oral sex (f recev) rough sex, mentions of loss of virginty, emotional gaslighting and gore, blood, and a lot of...BONES. (Blood licking for this chapter) Blood drinking too...(where is this going???)

This is a dead dove

Do not eat it.

(a+ warning)

wordcount:6816 SWEET GODS keep in mind this is just the snippet I knew it was bad but that it was this bad omg loooord how big is this chapter gonna be omg omg.

AHUM.

READER/PETAL/UNKNOWN FIRST NAME.

You slept more than you allowed yourself to. You blame your lack of training at first, but with a bed that soft, that big, and that warm anyone could fall asleep. You stare at the ceiling, where dragons look back to you. The diamond chandeliers shimmer peacefully and you hate all of it. He put so much effort into this room for you. You can save a hungry family with one of those chandeliers. You don’t deserve any of it. It reminds you of the nights you spent on the street, in the cold, begging for food to selfish strangers who all feared they would end up like you; an unwanted orphan.

You are overwhelmed. Absolutely overwhelmed. Your senses are tested, your skin is burning and aching and you are close to crying. You slap yourself. You need to pull it together. Now. You rise from the bed, instantly regretting it the moment you are actually on your feet. Your feet hurt. You hiss, ignoring your own pain as you walk to the vanity. There must be something here. Some cream, some lotion…Anything. To get rid of your…

“Bloody horns.” You don’t care that he’s King of the Underworld, if Aemond had something to do with those horns growing out of your necklace, and into your own damn skin, he will be suffering.You pass by the large balcony and are taken back by the fact that you are watching a sunrise. A sunrise in the Underworld. It takes your breath away. The light, the way the entire room fills with sunshine is almost magical.

‘’Ahum, do you wish me to close the curtains, my Queen?’’ You should be used to people sneaking up to you by now, but no, you aren’t. You turn around, facing a girl around your own age, wearing a black servant gown. You don’t trust her. The memory of the witch who tried to kill you is all too fresh in your mind.

You reach for anything that can serve you as a deadly weapon. Can you even kill undead people? You will find out, you suppose… “I am so sorry for startling you, my Queen.” Lies, likely. Lies and deceit. You grab the perfume bottle, ready to smash it on her head.

She holds up her arms. “I am Ann. Your handmaiden.” She tells you, when slowly lowering your perfume bottle. “His grace assigned me about two weeks ago. He wants to make sure you are content, your Grace.” Content? There are horns growing out of your body! You do hear something interesting. The kidnapping was planned at least two weeks ago. So he planned this quite for a bit.

Ann grabs the small, golden hairbrush with sapphires. You roll your eyes at the expensive, excessive and unneeded fancy brush. “Shall I brush your hair? Perhaps you'd like to have a nice bath? I can prepare it for you.” She says. You don’t trust her just yet, but do agree on following her to the bathroom. You rip one of the lights on the wall, taking a sharp diamond with you in case you need it.

You follow her into the lavious bathroom, another insane monstrosity. There are mirrors covering the walls, golden tiles under your feet and the tiles have letters written in them. You can clearly spot an A. A golden, A curved into the stones. You deliberately shove your feet over the A, trying to erase it.

‘’Your highness?’’ Ann’s voice makes you realize you must look silly. You watch Ann, prepare your bath by filling a golden bathtub big enough to fit two people with water. The water comes from a demonic statue in the corner, and seems to be hot right away. Dark magic, no doubt. “Roses or lavender, my Queen?” She asks as she takes two bottles of leaves from a cabinet you didn’t even notice. She knows where everything is.

You bathed before, of course. Just not with roses or lavender. Just with water and a bar of soap that grew smaller every time. “Roses are fine.” You say, not paying too much mind to it. Lavender has such a strong scent, roses are more subtle.

“May I help you?” She asks, gesturing to the Nightgown that Aemond put you in. You nod, putting the diamond aside. She looks at it, a little distraught. You put your arms up, allowing her to undress you and to do her job.

She helps you into the warm but nice water. She begins to brush your hair. “Do you like it here, my Queen?’’ She asks, gently brushing your hairs as you eye a golden bath duck with sapphires for its eyes. You don’t. You were captured here and you don’t like how pretentious Aemond is, nor how he sometimes loses control of his own powers. You will be looking to escape. But you can’t tell Ann that. She will tell Aemond, likely.

So you lie, crawling into the skin of someone else, pretending to care about golden bathtubs and diamonds. ‘’It’s such a dreaming life. I never suspected it would be happening.’’ Sometimes the best lie is just the truth. You did not expect it to be happening, and you did not expect to ever meet Aemond at all. Life would have been perfect, had he stayed far, far away in fact.

Ann chuckles, softly. ‘’I can imagine, my Queen. My mother always told me that destiny is something that we least expect. Like, how a man had the destiny to become rich. He kept waiting for riches but he took his wife, his children and his health for granted. He already was rich, in a way.’’

Her words nestle inside your brain, working their magic. You sit up, considering her words. Dread fills your chest as you glance at your own reflection, staring at your new horns. What if she’s right? What if this is your destiny? What if somehow, Aemond is right about all this? ‘’Interesting.’’ You comment, enjoying the warm water and the scent of roses.

Ann stops brushing your hair, looking flushed and embarrassed. ‘’I shouldn’t bore you with senseless stories. I am sorry, my Queen.’’ She says.

You chuckle, but roll your eyes. The way she addresses you is obviously Aemond’s doing. You want Ann to treat you as a normal being. ‘’You should stop with the ‘’My Queen’’ thing. It makes me uncomfortable.’’ You tell her, and you steal the brush from her and give your scalp a good scratching with it. You groan, as your horns interfere with most of that idea.

Ann is a beautiful young lady and could easily impress many people, but her eyes have become as big as a bunny who is facing the huntsman. You scared her. ‘’His grace said I wasn’t supposed to address you in any other way.’’ Ann confesses, her voice small. ‘’I don’t know what to do now. The King wants you to feel at home here, and I should obey your every command. But his command was to address you properly. I feel conflicted, truth be told, your Highness.’’ You understand she is terrified of Aemond. Who wouldn’t be, in truth? You hear a soft sniffle. You sit up, reaching for Ann’s hands. You feel horrible for making her cry.

You won’t tell Aemond anything. He doesn’t deserve to know after all he did to you. And besides, even in the best marriages there are secrets. You scoff a bit at your own poor joke. Marriage. To him.‘’I won’t tell the King. You can address me how you like. I am sorry for upsetting you.’’ You say. Ann looks up, her eyes puffy.

You hope you made it a bit better.

But you only made it so far worse.

Ann snaps, throwing the brush on the tiles in frustration, tears bursting from her eyes as she falls to the ground, hugging her knees. Shocked, you try to get to her, awkwardly hanging half out of the bathtub. ‘’You shouldn’t feel bad! Not over me or my feelings!’’ The way she talks scares you. It is terrifying. You stare at this poor, tortured and tormented soul. Ann sighs, continuing. ‘’You shouldn’t be bothered about me at all. I am just a mere servant, you, you are the Queen. You should worry about other things-’’ You stop her rambling, instantly grabbing her hands, this time you manage to hold them, without slipping on the painful marble floors.

‘’Who should a Queen care for, if not her people?’’ You ask, genuinely. Not that you see yourself as a Queen. Ann smiles through her tears. You smile back, carefully. Ann returns to brushing your hair, now much more comfortable and less stiff around your presence.

She clears her throat, embarrassed. She shouldn't be. She is under a lot of pressure. Perhaps you can find some way to lighten her burdens. Make her happier before leaving the castle. Or she can come with you. ‘’Me and the servants heard rumours. Is it true the King gave you thousand roses and had a gilded carriage with seven unicorns all in a different colour to bring you here?’’

You wonder if the roses aren't secretly enchanted to cause hallucinations. Unicorns? Roses? Gifts? A carriage? Also, you didn't know Unicorns exist?

You recall a hole in the ground, and darkness. But you decide to humor her and feed the propaganda Aemond spoonfed her. If she corrects him one day, it could cost her her head. ‘’No, there were eight unicorns and two dancing polar bears.’’ You say, making the lie even less believable. Ann nods, however, buying it, to her it's the ultimate love gesture.

She sighs, dreamily. ‘’I wish someone would do all this for me. The King must love you so deeply. I shouldn’t mention, but I noticed, he seems…different since your arrival.’’ You frown. Different how?

‘’Did he get rid of that stick up his ass?’’ You ask. Ann gasps, laughing but hides her laugh behind her hands. She shakes her head, smiling as she tries her best to summarize it.

‘’Changes are happening. Let’s leave it at that.’’ What kind of changes, you wonder.

A cloud of roses appears, signaling Aemond’s dramatic arrival. You roll your eyes, sighing deeply as Aemond takes his sweet time appearing in front of you, roses surrounding him as he spawns. You look beside the bathtub for Ann, and are shocked to find her kneeling on the floor, for Aemond. You feel horrified.

There is kneeling and there is whatever Ann is doing. You assumed a curtsy would be enough to please his ego. But no. She is covering the floor, making herself as lowly as possible. It's dehumanising in any way and you want her to stand up right away.

Aemond smiles at you, admiring your naked body. “Ah. There is my beautiful wife.” He claps his hands and the candles surrounding the bathtub light up, spreading a gentle rose scent. You cover your chest with your arms. He left you here. Where did he expect you to find, somewhere with another one of his skeletons that wants to kill you?

Ann returns to brushing your hair, but can barely reach it from this angle. She keeps her eyes on Aemond at all cost. She fears him, clearly. But luckily he pays her no mind. It's like she doesn't exist to him at all. A shadow haunting a castle. You realize, she doesn’t exist for him. He sees her as a servant. A tool to dispose of when she’s no longer useful. You shudder at that thought, horrified and sick to your stomach.

His thin and gentle smile dies. He stares at you full of disbelief as if you challenged him. “Is that needed? I've seen your beautiful body two times before.’’ He has. You won't do his bidding until he tells you the truth. You want to know why you have horns now and what you are doing here.

“It's a matter of consent.” You say.

You expect him to throw a tantrum or to kill Ann for revenge or just drown you in the golden tub. But he does something else. “Ah,” he says nodding as he turns around granting you your privacy at long last. “Tell me when I can gaze upon the most beautiful creature that ever graced my presence, yes?” You wonder if he's truly in love. If he is pretending he puts too much effort into his act. But the way that he's so silly and so awkward around you almost confirms it to you that he is not acting.

You roll your eyes now his back is turned. Ann gently smiles too, helping you in a soft robe.

“When I'm dressed.” You announce, making your way to the bedroom with Ann.

You can hear him scoffing from afar. “Hah.” He comments but he does not turn around at all nor tries to steal peeks from the mirror walls. He remains where he stands, arms crossed but faithful to your command.

Ann escorts you to a chair, makes sure you sit comfortably and goes off to fetch you a dress and underwear. You wait patiently and see her return with a dark red sleeveless poofy gown that could easily save your life should you decide to jump down the balcony. It would protect you from the fall.

It's a walking statement. A walking attention catcher. It's a beautiful dress but you don't feel beautiful. You fear it'll look ugly on you. So you hate it. It's safer to hate the unknown than to try it.

Ann smiles, twirling it, making it only worse as she presents it to you as a proud mother, offering her daughter her wedding dress. “I…don't we have something less extravagant?” You ask. Ann drops the ball gown, staring as if she too sees it for the first time now. She gives a soft, almost shadow of a nod, that vanishes when Aemond comes over. He gives her an obvious glare, and you can see her tremble.

It was his choice, clearly.

Not Ann's.

The poor girl shakes, before vanishing off to the closet, getting another dress. This one is green and she looks now directly to Aemond for his approval, rather than your own. ‘’This is the dress you approved for the dinner, my King. But maybe her g-grace could wear it now?’’ You laugh, uncomfortable.

You turn to Aemond, knowing he will do anything to make you feel at home. Ann said so.. “I'm used to wearing pants.” You admit. “Easier to move around in and fight in if need be. And I look much better in pants than in a poofy dress.” You nod to the dress, allowing him to use his demonic powers on it.

Aemond nods and smiles but doesn't do anything. “Mhm.” He says, instead of turning the dress into a hope of ashes like you had hoped. “You'll adjust. I'm certain of it.” He looks at your horns full of admiration and excitement.

His answer is infuriating on its own but that he looks at you so patronizing that makes your blood really boil. “I think you misunderstand me.” You say, trying to be civil and the bigger person. You don't want to wear this monstrosity. You don't want to wear dresses. You aren't even sure how to sit in this thing or how to walk in it. You'd only trip and make a fool of yourself.

The king of the underworld lets out the most boyish annoyed groan, as a little boy being told he can't have another stuffed animal. “Petal, don't be difficult. Let me rephrase…I think you clearly have issues.” Your brows raise so far you are convinced they are in your hair. You? You are the one with the issues?

“Me?” You must have heard wrong.

He nods, solely as if he regrets it deeply. “You have never been in a ballgown before. You feel guilty and shy. But there's truly no need for it, my love. You'll look so beautiful,” his lips curl into an unintended smile picturing it. “This dress was made for you. The seamstress worked days on it. I didn't even allow her to rest. Luckily there was someone present to wake her up with cold water whenever she passed out. ” He tells you with a sweet smile. He laughs, warmly, thinking hearing such an awful thing will make you overjoyed. ‘’You see, that’s how much I care for you, my love. Everything, from your toes to your beautiful horns, it all needs to be perfect. I won’t tolerate anything less.’’

He thinks you are just being reassured but unaware he gave you again crucial information. He had a dress made for you, by what sounds like someone human. Judging the skirt and the details on the dress, that too had taken quite a while. You never made anything before so you wouldn't know just how long, but that it took that poor woman long you can understand. Days, Aemond said. But you doubt that. Weeks, likely. Months, perhaps.

You try your best to hide your disgust. You must charm him somehow. “I just think pants are practical. If I need to run-”

There is an audible gasp from Ann followed by the uttering deafening silence. Aemond nods, almost to himself, faking a smile when he slowly gets in front of you again. He crosses his arms and you focus on the bone crown on his head to avoid staring at his eye. That one, beautiful eye that is judging you, berating you and even hating you for what you just dared to mutter. That you are in fact not here to stay.

The candles stop burning one by one. You hear rattling chandeliers and the sun disappears outside the castle. Outside clouds gather, and thunder rumbles. He does not raise his voice or shout at you. But truth be told, he doesn’t have to. He is terrifying all on his own, simply by existing. “Why would you need to run?” He must be lying about his band with you. His soulmate is someone else you are certain of. Whatever reason Aemond has to keep you here, it has nothing to do with love. You can't imagine yourself being that important.

Deceit comes naturally to you. But not now. Not in front of him. When you need it, it fails you. “I…an example.” He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly, clearly noticing you lied. He takes your hands into his own, muttering Valyrian words. You don't know what he's doing but you are afraid. You watch Ann, worried he'll hurt her.

When he talks he becomes the King again and you are nothing but a mortal girl at his mercy. He scolds you as if he is talking to a child. “We talked about this. You are not going anywhere. You are my Queen and my love. You are right where you belong. The only running your legs will be doing is when I allow it.” He chuckles, clearly nervous. He pretends to care what you think of him. He pretends like he doesn’t want to scare you away.

You cross your arms, annoyed by the turn of the conversation. “Can we talk about the horns sticking out of my neck and forehead now?’’

Aemond looks at your horns, as if seeing them just now. He smirks, and his smirk tells you all you need to know. It's the smirk of a satisfied child that got his way. Again. He did this to you. “Mhm. I thought there was something different about you.” He chuckles delighted at his own joke. You are tempted to hit him, but instead you just groan under your breath.

You can't break the necklace. So you doubt you can break the horns. Maybe you can tear them from your skin. But you won't risk it.

The way you looked must have been miserable because Aemond grabs your hands, feeling your burned and damaged skin, instantly kissing your fingers and surprising you with a soft, gentle kiss that heals your burned fingers. You stare at his lips, confused. “It's nothing serious. When a wife and a husband wed, she takes his cloak. You know this. See this, little bit of …decoration as my cloak. The world will tremble and gawk. You simply are wearing your husband's cloak instead of your maiden one.” You didn't consent to any marriage and you sure aren't wearing a cloak let alone horns.

“Can you undo it?” You ask, instantly.

He avoids eye contact for a moment, clearly hurt by your words. Then he pretends he's fine again. He chuckles once more, much shallower than the first time.

“Yes, but why would I? Like I said; it's incredibly romantic.” He kisses your neck, careful to mind the new horns. “You look so beautiful with it. You look ravishing, my love.”

You don't. You never looked ravishing. You never felt uglier than now. Being an orphan, people had enough to say to you. Now, with horns and a god king for a husband, what will they say now? And how will you wield words that will root deep inside of your soul, eating away your so rare confidence? You are strong, but not invincible. “What will people say when they see me with horns?” You whisper, horrified. You look into the mirror.

Aemond grabs you tighter forcing you to meet your image. Forcing you to accept this horrible truth. “They won't even glance at you. Every tongue that dares to insult you, I will cut from their mouths. No one insults my Queen. They won't laugh. They won't point. They will stand up for you and they will bow until their knees break.” You try to imagine it. Crowds of people falling to their knees for you. You, wearing crowns decorated with bones and everyone who ever challenged you, on their knees in the dirt, bowing down for you.

There's a soft kiss on your head that awakens you from the daydream. “It's alright to like it, my little Petal. Remember that.” he whispers, reminding you of how good he can make you feel. You recall how whole you felt when he was inside of you, and need to remind yourself too of the burns and scars he gave you. How he keeps burning you somehow. Maybe he likes hurting you. Some people get turned on by it. But you aren't sure yet if Aemond is one of those people.

You hear his words again. ‘’It’s alright to like it.’’ What if he did not refer to the times you two have been together, but something else? Something so much darker, so much worse? You see him smile, as a proud boyfriend who just taught you how to do something terrible. You realize what the horns mean. Aemond didn’t do anything. You did it. By corrupting your soul.

“You did well, last night.” He adds, unaware of your realisation..He takes a look at the places he kissed last night when you two made love. He gently touches your burned skin, by your lips and your neck. “Come love. It's time I healed you.” He announces, taking you by the hand.

But that comes too soon after your horrifying realization.

“Why am I truly here?’ you ask, breaking free. He freezes and turns around, caught in his lie. He quickly smiles.

He makes himself a bit taller, adjusting his posture. “I want to heal you.” He says with that little oh so scared chuckle. You rip yourself free, not listening anymore. He is not touching you until he tells you what he’s hiding or when you are finally home again.

“No. You wont get your way until you tell me all there is.” You say. The King laughs, as his pupil darkens. You try not to be afraid, but the truth is that is easier said than done. With one snap of his little finger he can break your neck, you are certain of that.

His soft but rough voice softly rings out. “I don't think you understand how things work.” He bends his fingers slightly, as if making claws. At his command, your necklace begins to close tighter around your throat, slightly choking you. “I will heal you.”

You gasp for air as Ann rushes out of her hiding spot, her eyes full of worry. She does not help you, however. You don’t blame her. “You can after you tell me the truth.” You manage to croak out to Aemond. ‘’You can heal me, just…tell me.’’

He only laughs harder, choking you to the point where your vision blurs.

“Don't be difficult now, Petal. I would have preferred making you breathless another way, but I will keep you close. I can’t afford losing you.’’

Ann steps in front of you, protecting you. “My king, her royal highness, the Queen hasn't eaten anything yet. Mayhaps we should let her eat a bit, and you can heal her after? Women are known to be frustrated easily if not well fed.” She tries to laugh it off but she is afraid. She knows who she is defying. For you of all people.

Ann actually stood up for you. It is a clear attempt to give you some time alone, away from Aemond and his desires. He stares at you, giving you finally more space to breathe and releases you.

You gasp for air, eagerly filling your lungs. But he does not stop. He simply switches targets. He picks up Ann now, holding her in the air and choking her, much harder than he ever choked you. “Do not make me turn you into a pile of ashes. I entrust you with my most valuable possession but I won't hesitate to kill you.” He warns her, his voice becoming darker and rougher.

“My king, forgive me! I meant no offense!” Ann begins to cry, struggling to say anything else.

He growls. ‘’Yet you do. You dared to question my authority and dared to order me around! I am not your dog, I am your King, your God! She is mine and mine to do with as I please-’’ That is enough for you. You run in his direction, surprising him. You jump on top of him, tackling him to the ground. His hands stop the spell, interrupted. You pin him to the floors and stare into his eye, heavily breathing because of the adrenaline.

‘’Do not hurt Ann.’’You tell him, warning him. ‘’You want me to give you a chance and all of this madness? Stop killing people and stop treating me like your whore. You have one chance. I don’t care that you are immortal, I will find a way to kill you, Aemond.’’

“One day around you and she thinks she can order me around like I'm a dog!” He rages, but calms when he notices your hands on his clothed chest. Your hands feel the familiar hole that sits right by where his heart would be.

Ann shakes her head, falling to her knees. “No, your grace, please, my good King! No I didn't. I only had your best interest in mind. The servants know of her Grace's…” You curse as it all makes sense. You get off from Aemond. He remains on the floor, perfectly fine and even puts his arms behind his head, enjoying the show that is about to unfold. He even dares to adjust himself, so he is more comfortable.

Ann never cared about you not having eaten.

His eye is following you around, clearly lusting and feeding on your darkness as you approach Ann. “Of what?” You ask, just to clarify.

She shakes as a leaf. But you need to know this truth. You had fears and you want to know if you were right. The darkest fear of all. That you could be with child. His child. “That you and the King consummated your marriage earlier.” You turn your head to Aemond. A consummation would make any marriage legal and binding. Did he truly lie to you? Are you two married, in some secret demon pact? Is that why he took you so quickly?

Aemond rises from the ground, not paying much attention to his surroundings and ends up on a low hanging shelf with bottles. “It is true me and the Queen were…overcome with emotions,’’ You scratch your head, staring at the ground. You scoff, tears stinging. He played you. He lied to you. He married you. If he truly felt anything for you, he wouldn’t have done that. He would have been honest. About at least something.

Aemond’s words were first addressed to Ann, but they changed target. His voice becomes softer as his hands glide into your own, and you notice he somehow clings to you. As if you can save him. ‘’- but I want to wed her in a proper ceremony with proper guests and attire. She should be crowned for all to see. She deserves a wonderful wedding and that's what she'll get. No, we didn't consummate our marriage. We aren’t married, just yet.’’ You feel relief. But that doesn’t answer your other question. “But we did have a special time getting to know one another.” Aemond adds, making the story more spectaculair than it needs to be. You roll your eyes.

Ann chuckles, still terrified but carefully tries to make conversation to avoid your anger or Aemond's. “The dancing polar bears must have been quite the view.” she says, remembering the lies you told her.

You see Aemond's good eye narrow in confusion. “The what?”

She stares at the two of you. “I don't judge, my Queen, my King. I simply wanted the Queen fed in case there's…Something inside her belly.” You glare at Aemond, asking him directly with your emotions and eyes if he knows that you are with child. He turns his head away.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, clearly avoiding you at all costs suddenly. “That's quite the disturbing thought process.” He says. ‘’I think you should take your leave. Me and the Queen need to talk.’’ Ann makes a curtsy and leaves quickly after Aemond orders her, likely very happy to be granted leave at all.

He smirks as she leaves. ‘’I had no idea there was such a feisty side to that girl. The way she stood up for you, I never imagined in a million years that humans were capable of that. She is a interesting pet, don’t you agree?’’

You aren’t sure what you feel stirring up. Is it disgust or jealousy? “She's a person not your pet.” you bite out offended regardless. To your surprise, to your horror even, you added something you had no control over. An arm that tries to hit the King of the Underworld. You gasp as Aemond captures your arm quickly, smirking broadly as he leans in, caressing your face with his long blood red and white nails.

You stare at your arms, shocked and confused. Why did you do that? ‘’There is no need to be jealous, my Queen. You think I’m interested in her, when I have you, right where I want you?’’ He presses his nose to your own, kissing your lips when softly nibbling on your under lip. You hear him exhale deeply, and you taste your own blood. He bit you. He kisses deeper and longer, tasting your blood. It should feel so bad, but it feels so good. You should hate every touch, every kiss but you only seem to want more and more of him. You need to stop him.

You break the kiss.

‘’You should stop pestering Ann.’’

He grins, but doesn’t nod or agree. “She made you uncomfortable.” He responds, grabbing you by your hips. He stares into your eyes again, slowly opening your bathrobe. ‘’It’s a crime that you tried to hide all of this from my eyes. You should be punished.’’ He whispers, staring at your naked body. You try to fight your desires for him.

She only tried to stop someone from getting choked. “She means well. She wants the best for me and for you.” Or for the innocent unborn child she thought you were carrying around.

He rolls his eye, annoyed at you bringing up Ann when he is clearly trying to seduce you.

“All based on one conversation. And you are not with child. Not mine, not anyone's. ’’ He sighs dramatically. ‘’May I now heal you?’’ He's impatient. You stare at your burned finger tops that you burned when touching him.

‘’Can you at least tell me how to avoid burning myself in the future?’’ You would like to know that. There must be some way to stop yourself from burning your skin.

‘’You can’t, Petal.’’ His answer shocks and surprises you. You thought he had something to protect you from it. ‘’I apologize.’’ He adds, in a tone unlike himself. He truly regrets that he can't tell you another answer. He regrets it. ‘’I can heal you.’’ He adds. “But I can't teach you how to become immune. Nor can I cast spells that protect you against my own magic. It would not work.”

You decide to humor him. Your burns hurt and so do your bruises. You might seduce him into taking your horns away again. You nod, handing yourself over. Aemond deeply exhales, sensing your surrender and he grins as his pupil slightly widens, and briefly dark shadows dance around his fingertips.

‘’Lay on the bed.’’ He says. You raise a brow, but obey, skeptical. ‘’And get rid of the robe.’’ You do what he asks. Aemond joins you on the bed, having used his dark powers to appear right next to you, startling you. He looks at your burned fingertips, softly brushing them with his own. He begins to softly kiss your fingertips. You watch, as your skin heals right before your eyes. He is truly powerful, healing burned ruined skin with his own well mouth.

Aemond sadly only appears to use his powers for bad things. But this proves he can do great things. He could heal wounds and cure the sick. If only he wanted.

Aemond moves on to your legs, which he also injured when taking you. Scratches and bruises and even small cuts are healed when he kisses your legs, softly caressing your legs. You are trying your best to remain stubbornly in a stiff position, but Aemond simply flips you over, reaching your belly and kissing your neck, healing the sensitive skin where your horns and necklace crawled inside of. You try to suppress a moan and a curse as he begins to suck there too, making the pain go away briefly and replace it with an addictive sharp and powerful delicious feeling. ‘’Inflicting the pain can be fun, but so can be the aftercare.’’ You hear him whisper in your ear, as his fingers softly tap against your legs. ‘’I want you to understand that if we are to lay together more oftenly, this too will happen more often. I don’t want you walking around my castle with burns and scars. Not when I can so easily take your pain away.’’

You allow him to kiss and heal you, wondering how the same lips that did you so much pain now bring you pleasure and healing. ‘’I thought you liked it when I wore the scars?’’ You refer to the bones sticking out of your body. The horns and the necklace.

He pauses, caught off guard. His voice is a rough but quiet groan. ‘’No. I don’t.’’

He moves on to your belly, kissing your stomach lovingly as he takes in your breasts likely already picturing himself closer to you. But before he even touches your breasts, he kisses your forehead, healing the sensitive skin, staring in your eyes.

He then leans over your chest and begins.

He cools the burned flesh when softly sucking on your tit, causing you to feel conflicting emotions. He grins as you begin to turn your head away to avoid looking into his eyes or seeing your breast into his mouth. “Do you like your handmaiden? Is she kind and does she address you properly?” Ann is perfect. But why did he get you a handmaiden? Is she to assist and help you look pretty or is she just a way for Aemond to watch and control you?

You don't like the way he said it properly. He scared poor Ann into doing his bidding and now she won't ever stop calling you ‘’My Queen’’. As if you are somehow above her. Ann is so far a better human than you would ever be. She's kind and selfless. Brave too.

“I can wash myself.” You inform him with a slight push against his chest.

Aemond captures your wrists, holding your hand tight but soft. “A Queen should have servants. Handmaidens are more than that. You will build a life here, Petal. I want you to have female trusted friends. Having only me is not healthy.”

He wants you to have friends. You are first, shocked. He does not seem like the type to have any friends himself, so why should he care that you are friendless? Then you are enraged. Because if he had not kidnapped you you would actually be around people who are your friends: Daemon and Rhaenyra. And the way how he treated you, there is nothing healthy about that.

You wait until he is done healing you. “Now you care about what's healthy? Do you remember the bench you fucked me sore and bloody on? Do you remember how scared I was in the throne room and disoriented and all you did was chain me and leave me to go Gods knows where? And when you left last night when you had-” You feel sadness stir.

Aemond doesn't laugh or deny your accusations. He seems sorrowful and full of regret. “I partly regret it. The garden was too harsh. I regret hurting you. I don’t regret making love to you. I don't regret making you lose control and having you finish. I don't regret hearing you cry in my ear how badly you wanted me. I don't regret kidnapping you either. I don't regret it now, nor ever. As for leaving you, I was merely Making the final preparations. I didn't want you to arrive in an unsuited room.” He huffs.

You feel guilt washing over you. You don't deserve any of this luxury. You don't deserve it at all. He is softly circling your skin, distraught as he finally manages to gather his courage. His voice is a strained whisper. “Would you rather I had stayed, Petal? After our …intimacy? Would that have …caused less hurt?” You don't think so. He takes your hands into his own. “When we marry, you can move into my rooms or have your own rooms. I don't mind, truly. Whatever makes you feel at home the most.” You know that is a generous offer not many Queens are gifted by their kings. you wonder if it's sincere.

He continues, nervously scratching his nails against his scalp. “I do wish to see you at least once a day, to know you are well and cared for. Once a week, I hope you'll grant me the privilege to take you somewhere fun.”

“What is your idea of fun, an execution?” You remark.

“Sometimes.’’ He blurts out, unaware. You see him tense up and quickly try to defend himself. ‘’ I mean, no! Mayhaps a romantic dinner by candlelight or spending time in the library. I have a beautiful collection. You like to read don't you?” He knows so much about you. You read years ago for the last time.

“You know so much.” You remark, suspicious.

He continues to heal you with his mouth, and his fingertips, touching burned, bruised and injured areas of your body. He does so in silence. When he speaks, your faces are close and he is touching your lips. His voice is a whisper. “I had to. For your own safety. Darker forces than myself are conspiring. I can't risk you falling into the wrong hands.”

You laugh, ignoring his warnings, thinking it is just propaganda or lies.

“You make me sound like a weapon.” You say with a push against his chest.

He grabs your hands again, this time pressing them to his own chest. His voice is so serious, so solid and unmoving that it makes you gulp. “Not a weapon. A solution. An answer. Hope.” He declares.

Confusing emotions fight inside of you. You never had been anyone’s hope or answer. Or a solution. “For who?” You wonder.

Aemond’s lips carefully bend into a smile. ‘’Me.’’

Book Aemond if he was real and could read what I made him do:

He'd be so freaking disappointed-

Thank yall.

For either being here now, for 2 years or just recently, thank you for reading my stories i love you the way Snow falls loves his little fox, the way that GodAemond loves his Petal and the way ...wait those are terrible examples because theyre really unhealthyly obessed with those girls...uhm..

OH! I love you all the way Viserys loves Balerion:) thats a healthy thing right. IDK I never read the books.

THANK YOUUU FOR READDDDING

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sylviesoothsayer22 · 2 months ago

Text

To Finally Be In Your Ephemeral Embrace

Here's some much needed exposition: I combined two soulmate AUs. One being the Daemon-lore and the other being Lumen-lore. The first is pretty well-known and doesn't need an explanation, but the other one is actually the creation by someone with the handle @meliapis (you’ll probably find them here on Tumblr) On that particular AU, the character is accompanied by a physical manifestation of their soulmate (i.e. a ball of light known as a lumen). A lumen is supposed to appear starting from their Chosen's 6th to 30th year. They also vary in colour and size, can control how much light they emit, while also (sometimes) able to transmit emotions/sensations of their human counterpart. Hope that wasn't confusing!

Summary:

The very concept of a soulmate had always left Hong’er with an odd blend of nervous excitement and trepidation.

In a way, this was something that he could call his own. It was unlike the food or money he would steal and therefore can never truly be his. He didn’t have to fight off other street urchins to keep it in his possession or guard it on his person at all times. The thought of a Fated One always left Hong’er with warmth blooming in his belly that not even the coldest of nights could chase away.

But....his birthdays keep passing by and there were no signs.

Even the lowest of the low-class have soulmates, so why doesn't he...?

(or the one AU where I decided to write HuaXian as soulmates using a mish-mash of two soulmate AUs. Enjoy! :)

The very concept of a soulmate had always left Hong’er with an odd blend of nervous excitement and trepidation.

On one hand, this was something that he could call his own. It was unlike the food or money he would steal and therefore can never truly be his . He didn’t have to fight off other street urchins to keep it in his possession or guard it on his person at all times. The thought of a Fated One always left Hong’er with warmth blooming in his belly that not even the coldest of nights could chase away.

On the other hand, the idea of binding his ill-fated soul to another and likely bring misfortune upon them left Hong’er with the sensation of needles crawling up his spine akin to malicious spiders. They would surely hate him for that, wouldn’t they?

And yet….and yet, he would see the other children, rich and poor alike, smile at their lumens as they buzzed around their heads, chase them in their own personal game of hide-and-seek meant only for two, laugh whenever their lumens playfully tickle their sensitive cheeks and necks. Children that were assured in the knowledge that while they haven’t met their Fated yet, they will never truly be alone.

Hong’er would then glance at the empty spot where he imagined his lumen was supposed to be and feel burning jealousy bubbling up in his chest.

Even the lowest of the low-class had been blessed with one, so why hasn’t he….?

Wait until my birthday…. Hong’er quietly assured himself. They’ll appear by then.

His sixth year on this earth had already come and went.

Then his seventh arrived..

…and the eighth quickly followed.

..ninth…

It took until his tenth birthday for Hong’er to start believing the terrifying reality that he might not have a soulmate.

That dreadful thought would only grow day-by-day until the little boy felt something delicate and fragile within slowly crack and shatter into a thousand pieces. Piercing his innards with their countless shards.

Against his will, a voice, the one that he had been doing everything in his power to not give in to, echoed Hong’er’s greatest fear:

No one loves you. No one will ever love you. It’s a pity that a poor soul had their red-string tied to a little beast like you .

Hong’er bit the inside of his cheek until he drew blood.

No point in pitying someone who doesn’t even exist, then.

The little boy shut his eyes in a futile attempt to stem the flow of tears. Hong’er curled his body further to protect himself against the evening chill. Winter was almost here and he needed to keep himself warm somehow.

Afterall, there was no lumen to do that for him.

In spite of this shattering revelation, the world never stopped turning. Hong’er was left with no other choice but to keep moving forward.

Even after surviving a few more months on the streets just so that he could keep his miserable life for another day, even after Hong’er fell to his unceremonious death and had to constantly escape from stronger, more powerful spirits that wanted to snuff out his ghost-fire, even after Hong’er- Hua Cheng clawed his way into Supreme status out of sheer spite and contempt for the world, always defiant in the face of the shitty hand that fate dealt him.

Even after eight hundred years, when the pain had long since dulled into an ache, Hua Cheng knew that the all-consuming sense of loneliness and dejection will never truly leave him.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He was lounging in one of Paradise Manor’s numerous balconies, mindlessly watching the hustle and bustle going on in a city that never truly sleeps. The red lights illuminating the Ghost King’s visage, accentuating his sharp features quite fetchingly.

Hua Cheng had just finished a long and exhausting meeting with that freeloading bastard Black Water and was currently nursing a minor headache. The wine warming his cheeks likely wasn’t helping either.

From the corner of his eye, Hua Cheng could see a little silver blur approaching him.

He thought nothing of it. Most likely, it was one of his butterflies with another message from Yin Yu.

Wait….

Hua Cheng stiffened and sat up. Suddenly alert.

It wasn’t fluttering its way towards him. The way it was hovering in the air was… off . As if it didn’t need wings to keep itself aloft. It was also far smaller than the typical size of his wraith butterflies.

The strange object stopped just a hairsbreadth away from his face.

Hua Cheng felt his thoughts grind to a halt.

For the first time in who knows how many years, he was speechless.

For one wild moment, he thought someone must’ve let their lumen out of their sight.

Except that wouldn’t make any sense. Ghost-fires scramble away once they catch a whiff of the abundant resentful energy rolling off of Hua Cheng in waves.

A lumen was infinitely more fragile and precious. None would dare hover so close to him, even with their Chosen in tow.

Hua Cheng hesitantly held out a trembling hand. Long fingers slowly uncurling, palm facing up.

Without even a moment’s pause, the little lumen made itself home in the Calamity’s open hand. Nestling itself against the skin of his palm.

Hua Cheng stared at it in shock and no small amount of awe.

The lumen was perfectly spherical-shaped. It had a subtle silver glow that was neither too dull nor too bright. Prettily standing out in the night backdrop, one could easily mistake it for a star that decided to drift away from its place in the Heavens down to earth.

It was also incredibly tiny. About the size of a grape and felt even more delicate than the most expensive bauble. Hua Cheng feared that he might accidently crush it just from letting out a bit of yin energy alone. Yet it immediately trusted the Calamity with its little life.

“Hello….” He breathed out in disbelief. Not knowing what else to say.

After all these years, why now……?

The little-lumen enthusiastically blinkered at him. Practically exclaiming back with an eager: Hi!

Hua Cheng couldn’t stop his lips from quirking upwards at the endearing sight.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

To say that Yin Yu had been startled because the lumen of Hua Cheng’s soulmate finally presented itself would be an understatement.

Hua Cheng would’ve made a few snarky comments at his servant’s shocked countenance, but he was currently preoccupied with a rather needy ball of light.

“Perhaps we should look for them….? At least to ensure that they’re in fine health.” Yin Yu quietly suggested. Slightly unnerved at his lord’s uncharacteristically gentle behaviour when it came to his soulmate’s lumen.

Chengzhu glanced at his servant for a moment. Contemplating the idea.

Not liking that the elder’s attention was no longer on it, the little-lumen started vibrating and rolling around in Hua Cheng’s cupped hands. Looking very much like an angry marble as it announced its clear displeasure.

Yin Yu watched as his lord turned back to the little light with an indulgent smile and traced his thumb on the small orb’s surface. Softly petting the tiny sphere, urging it to calm down.

Immediately, the lumen stopped its minor tantrum and nuzzled itself against Hua Cheng’s thumb. Quiet once more.

“I think it’s best that we leave them be.” He finally decided. “Judging from the size, they must’ve just been born. There’s no point in being in their life right now.”

Yin Yu nodded in acquiescence.

(It wasn’t until over two decades later, when Hua Cheng would find out about the kind of life his soulmate lived.

Never had Hua Cheng felt the fervent need to run himself through. Even though he knew this penance could never make up for his failings.

Oh, Wei Ying…. I’m so sorry….)

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

In another world, within the room of a small decrepit inn located at a village with no name, a woman was reclining in her bed. Utterly exhausted from a rather excruciating and bloody labour.

Daring not to breathe too loudly, she quietly watched as the small bundle in her arms slowly cracked their moonstone eyes open. Their gazes locked and he let out a gurgle-laugh at the sight of his mother’s smiling face. Cangse Sanren giggled as she used her pointer-finger to gingerly stroke the babe’s soft cheek.

He’ll be a troublemaker when he grows up. She was sure of it. He is her son after all.

So long as he’ll always have a reason to smile, I’ll be content.

Still marvelling at the new life in her arms, Cangse Sanren watched as her son’s eyes were slowly pulled to the being hovering protectively above them. As if in a trance, both of his little hands peeked out of the blanket, instinctively reaching out.

A large, red lumen slowly- cautiously descended to her infant son’s open embrace. As if it were worried that it might crush the babe.

And hadn’t that been a shock? Lumens were incredibly rare, only one in a thousand would find themselves blessed with an actual soulmate. So, to see the Heavens bestowing such an honour on her son was as startling as it was concerning.

What could this possibly mean…?

Cangse Sanren studied the crimson lumen for what felt like the hundredth time. It had suddenly appeared the moment her child came into the world. With its bold colouring, it resembled a red star that had a splotch of a starry night-sky located at the sphere’s centre. Floating around the lumen’s interior like the yolk of an egg...or the iris of an eye.

It was also unusually big. About the size of a cuju-ball, which made for quite a comical sight as her son couldn’t fully wrap his chubby little arms around the glowing orb.

Cangse Sanren wasn’t sure what the size could indicate about the type of character her child’s soulmate was, so she put it out of her mind for now.

What did concern her was the absurd amount of yin energy exuding off of the red sphere. It wasn’t hurting her son, per say, but it’s best that she look into it.

Cangse Sanren watched as her little Wei Ying tried to bite the lumen, likely checking to see if it was something edible. Nomming on it as the red orb stayed docile as a lamb in her son’s embrace. Seemingly indulging the babe’s mindless curiosity.

“Now now…” A male voice softly scolded. “That’s not meant for eating. Is this how you’ll treat your other-half when you meet them?” The man’s hand lightly pushed at Wei Ying’s little fingers. Freeing the bright lumen from her son’s clutches and giving it the option to fly away.

It didn’t. Instead, it allowed itself to be held hostage by the infant once more.

Wei Changze watched the cute scene with a hint of amusement and exasperation.

“Unbelievable. They haven't even met yet and our child already has them wrapped around his little fingers!”

“That just proves that our future in-law has good taste.” His wife teased. Tickling a laugh out of her husband.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

News of the little silver lumen making its sudden appearance at Crimson Rain’s side had spread all over Ghost City within a single night. Every resident had assumed - hoped - that it would mean that their sarcastic and unpredictable king would mellow out after receiving such a blessing. No matter how delayed it may be.

And mellow out he did. Since the lumen of Hua Cheng’s soulmate finally materialised, there have been slight, subtle changes, both in the Calamity’s demeanour and temperament. Yin Yu would be the first to notice how his lord’s signature smirks would have a touch of genuineness to them, how Chengzhu would uncharacteristically deal with troublesome matters with a little more patience than he would usually spare them, how the elder ghost seemed more prone to let out a sincere laugh instead of the usual sardonic chuckle.

Of course, Hua Cheng only extended this sort of special treatment to his lumen, as for everyone else ... .well, they still received the same attitude as before.

Lord Black Water would be the first one to make that painful discovery.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Sharp, golden eyes surveyed the turquoise-coloured lumen zooming around Paradise Manor’s gates. Looking very much like a tornado as it went above, below and around the archways in excitable, dizzying patterns.

“Behave yourself.” He Xuan hissed quietly. Equal parts exasperated and ashamed. It always acted like this whenever they visited sites that the lumen had never seen before…or whenever they went to places that practically advertised their wealth.

Honestly, why was he given a lumen that was both hyper and vain?

Perhaps he should follow Yin Yu’s example and just stuff the troublesome ball of light into his sleeves. Out of sight and out of mind.

It would certainly prevent it from knocking over precious treasure again….

“Lord Black Water….?” The familiar, collected voice of Hua Cheng’s assistant cut through He Xuan’s thoughts. Waning Moon Officer now stood before him in a respectful bow.

“This one apologises for the long wait. But I am afraid that my lord is….otherwise indisposed at the moment. I advise that you take your rest. He shan’t be long.”

“Indisposed…?” He Xuan echoed; brow furrowed. If that flower bastard didn’t have the time, he would usually just say it to He Xuan’s face before kicking him out of his property.

Either way, He Xuan couldn’t afford to wait this time.

“I just need to speak to him. A few minutes and I’ll be gone.” He muttered, leaving behind his lumen to the servant’s care. He easily bypassed Yin Yu who didn’t make any attempt to stop him.

Strange.

Having already memorised the route, he made his way to Hua Cheng’s study. But when he slid open the door, He Xuan was met with a sight that shook him straight to the core.

He Xuan expected to find Hua Cheng hunched over his desk, scowling over a mountain of paperwork. He expected to be greeted with a biting remark for interrupting said paperwork or to even be thrown out of the study without an exchange of words.

But he just couldn’t make sense of what his eyes were telling his mind.

Instead of acting like the workaholic He Xuan knows the flower bastard to be, he was -for a lack of a better term- playing .

There was a small, silver, overly hyper, lumen tugging at the locks of Hua Cheng’s hair. Clearly trying to divert the elder’s attention away from his task. Hua Cheng just smiled and went along with it, indeed even languidly twisting his head in the lumen’s direction, as if the puny marble could actually pull at the Calamity with its miniscule strength.

Crimson Rain ‘fought back’ by flicking his ink-soaked brush at the lumen, wherein a droplet of ink splashed atop the glowing sphere.

The lumen blinkered rapidly, as if in protest. Bouncing up and down in the air as it did so. In retaliation, it dipped its little body into the inkpot, deliberately covering itself with the pigment, and took a swipe at Hua Cheng’s nose!

With his nose and even the side of his cheek stained with ink, He Xuan thought surely , Hua Cheng would be furious over the marble’s impudence. Quite the contrary! The bastard laughed and even playfully made a grab at the lumen, which it happily dodged. Now thoroughly satisfied that it has Hua Cheng’s attention off of boring documents and back on its mischievous self again.

He Xuan swiftly left the room with a turn of his heel.

There was far too much sweetness in that study even for him to stomach.

Per Yin Yu’s suggestion, He Xuan decided to go to Paradise Manor’s excessively ornate dining hall and contend himself with the feast laid out before him. The annoying turquoise marble, his marble, managed to ditch Yin Yu and join He Xuan in the hall, hovering above the ghost in circles.

Perhaps…. He thought as he ripped off the meat from a chicken bone …asking Crimson Rain for help now will be easier. He seems to be in a good mood today.

A familiar clink-clinking chime resounded within the vast hall. Announcing Hua Cheng’s arrival along with the silver lumen resting on the Ghost King’s broad shoulder, eagerly twisting its little-self left and right, as if it wanted to absorb all the hall’s intricate details.

“Taking advantage of my pantry again? Shall I prepare the next feast for you?” The familiar sarcasm was about as pleasant as an open sore.

Never mind. He’s still a prick.

“....you’ve still got some ink on your face.” He Xuan muttered with his mouth full.

“...”

Unfortunately, He Xuan couldn’t revel in the flower bastard’s rare moment of him being embarrassed for once. The two lumens spotted each other and froze.

Both ghosts tensed slightly. Two lumens acting like that when they’re in one room could be rather…unpredictable. In most cases they just ignore the other in order to coexist peacefully, but sometimes, all it takes is for two lumens to sense the other and immediately get into a fight. Usually because their counterparts already knew each other and were established as enemies. Those cases, while rare, could still happen here.

The turquoise lumen slowly floated towards the smaller one. Just a few centimetres from Hua Cheng. Said Ghost King sent He Xuan a warning look before training his gaze back on the larger sphere. Ready to bat it away at the first sign of aggression.

He Xuan was already in the middle of standing up, about to stop the potential fight, when the bigger lumen darted forward and gingerly bumped the silver sphere. Almost in an affectionate manner.

The two Calamities blinked.

The little silver marble was vibrating on its perch before it launched itself off of Hua Cheng’s shoulder and right into the turquoise lumen. The two lights collided, blinkering, excitedly circling around each other before giving chase. Darting all around the pillars and furniture….and eventually knocking over a vase that was, undoubtedly, worth more than He Xuan could make within a single century.

(The silver one was responsible for knocking it over, but He Xuan was certain that Hua Cheng wouldn’t see it that way. Semantics. He’d probably say.)

He Xuan grimaced. Just barely resisting the urge to facepalm.

Never had the ghost prayed harder for the floor to swallow him whole than as of this moment.

You’ve at least tripled my debt, you little shit! That vase had to be from the Han dynasty…!

He Xuan braced himself for the elder’s scathing remarks.

“Huh. I think I’ll take one-tenth off your debt, you lousy fish.”

Black Water slowly opened his eyes.

What….?

But the flower bastard wasn't even looking at him. Instead, that one dark eye was following the smaller lumen as it continued its game of hide-and-seek with its new playmate, absentmindedly rubbing off the ink from his cheek as he did so. He Xuan didn’t ever think he’d see that glacial gaze melt into something so warm . As if Crimson Rain did not wish to miss a single moment of this absurd display.

He so badly wanted to mock the elder for going all soft, but He Xuan kept his mouth shut, lest the prickly ghost go back on his word.

There was a time and a place to pick his battles. This was not one of them.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Excited giggles and playful shrieks echoed within an untidy chamber.

A bright red blur zoomed past the inn’s window, a slightly larger grey blur hot on its tail. They had already knocked over almost every single piece of furniture within the small rented room, their game of tag had elongated past the point of reason and there was no clear winner, but neither seemed to have tired from this nonsensical game.

His red star shielded itself by hiding on the other side of the bed. One of the two things that hasn’t been toppled in their little game. It swished itself side-to-side. Almost taunting its younger opponent.

The boy retaliated by taking a literal leap of faith, only he overshot! The child’s leg snagged on the crumpled blanket on top of the bed, he tumbled shoulder first onto the floor in a pile of tangled limbs and cloth.

“Ow!” He yelped as his shoulder made contact on the hardwood.

The red lumen froze mid-air. The black splotch at the centre shuddering in dismay.

Five year-old Wei Ying popped his head out of the blanket and flashed the lumen a bunny-tooth grin.

“I’m okay!”

His lumen didn’t seem to hear him, though! The bright ball immediately started fussing over the boy. Apologetically brushing itself against the bruised shoulder in soothing circles.

“A-Ying’s okay! Promise!” Wei Ying exclaimed, giggling. His red star could get so protective at times! The little boy was silently preening at the attention when something in his peripheral vision caught his eye.

The other thing that they haven’t knocked over. Neither of them dared to.

Wei Ying gently pushed away his lumen and carefully detangled himself from the blanket. He slowly made his way to the metal pot filled to the brim with uncooked rice, keeping the burnt out incense stick upright.

His parents were never able to afford a proper incense burner.

Without a word, the boy plucked out the stick, put it atop the growing pile of burnt out sticks and left a new incense in its place.

They’ve never been gone this long…. Wei Ying thought as he lit up the incense.

He noticed the red lumen take on a greyish hue. The sphere lowering itself until it was only a few inches off the floor.

“Don’t worry!” The child assured the lumen. Thinking that it was also worried. “A-die and A-niang will be back in no time!”

The large lumen merely made its way over to the boy and affectionately booped itself on Wei Ying’s nose. Inciting a small, precious giggle from the lad.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He quietly lifted the lid off of the decorative pot and looked inside.

Only to be met with an empty bottom.

Not here.

He stooped down and peeked underneath the divan that he usually favoured.

Not there.

He made his way down the hallway and checked behind each curtain.

Not there, either.

The longer Hua Cheng looked, the deeper the frown etched into his face. He was certain that he’d already checked all of its typical hiding spots.

In a last ditch effort, Hua Cheng decided to check his personal chambers.

If it's not there, he’ll work Yin Yu to the bone for his negligence. How could he lose it like that?

Hua Cheng strode across the empty bedchamber and carefully scanned the dollhouse resting on the windowsill.

It was fairly common practice. Encouraged even. Buying a dollhouse for your soulmate’s lumen was considered a great act of love, to show that their Chosen also had the lumen’s comfort in mind and to deepen the bond between the two. Many merchants saw this as a great opportunity to make lavish-looking dollhouses with cheap materials and sell them to nobility and royalty alike at inflated prices. A lot of them would walk away with fattened coin-purses and a snigger at having fooled their ignorant customers.

After a few hours of browsing the shops in Ghost City, Hua Cheng deemed none of the dollhouses on display as worthy for his lumen and decided to just make one himself.

(He was sure that Yin Yu was sporting a funny expression behind his mask when he made that announcement, Hua Cheng just couldn’t prove it.)

The blueprints for the dollhouse were rather…amusing.

Hua Cheng had asked his little star in a series of yes-no questions on its preferences, how many floors and pagodas would it like to have, did it wish for a mini-garden and a lake, flooring plans, room locations, etc.

Only to realise that the lumen was giving him the exact descriptions of Paradise Manor.

Typical. I try to spoil it and it only wants the bare minimum.

Still, he was never going to forget the silver lumen’s excitement once Hua Cheng finished carving out the final details and put the miniature furniture in their proper places. Zooming around at dizzying speeds as it went room to room, trying out the movable doors and cabinets, resting on the cushions and beds Hua Cheng painstakingly stuffed and sewed, marvelling at its new home.

The memory was enough to pull the corners of his mouth upwards. Sour mood slightly lifted.

Hua Cheng broke out of the happy recollection when he heard the sound of rustling sheets.

Wide-eyed, he made his way to the fanciful bed where a cushion seemed to be trembling non-stop.

Hua Cheng gently lifted it and looked at the little one hiding underneath. Its vibrant light had turned a dull grey.

“Little star…?” He uttered, concern leaking into his softened voice.

The poor thing was shaking so bad and appeared to have taken refuge beneath the pillow for warmth. This winter had been particularly harsh, but the lumen almost never showed such a severe reaction to the changing temperature.

With a flick of his sleeves, several butterflies shot out and immediately got to work on the chamber’s fireplace, while Hua Cheng gently scooped up the shivering sphere. He frowned, concern gave way to worry. The lumen was as cold as ice.

He wrapped a fur blanket around himself and carefully tucked the silver orb into the collar of his rob. Deliberately heating up his body as he did so. Hua Cheng gingerly sat near the now crackling fireplace, the curling flames radiating a much needed sense of warmth and cosiness for the quivering sphere.

Despite all these efforts, the lumen did not seem to be getting any warmer. It just tucked itself closer to Hua Cheng’s chest.

Hua Cheng’s brows furrowed further. That feeling of uneasiness blaring louder in his mind.

Something’s wrong.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Moonstone eyes vacantly watched as the snowflake slowly drifted from its place among the grey clouds, lower, lower, lower…… until it finally became one with the ground covered in unmelted snow.

The little nine year-old was curled up in an alleyway, shivering uncontrollably, with no gloves or shoes, a pile of snow forming at the top of his head and wetting his hair, his tattered robes doing a poor job at protecting his body from the cold. Teeth chattering, nose dripping, lips turning blue, chilblains appearing in the form of angry red splotches all over his fingers and toes. Painful little pin-pricks would flare up every time he tried to curl the chilled digits.

After the innkeeper had kicked him out, Wei Ying had stubbornly insisted on waiting outside of the inn for his parents to come back.

A-die and A-niang will be here! Just give me a few more days, please!

Still, it was kinda funny watching his red star turn an angry crimson and barrel into the innkeeper’s gut after he shoved Wei Ying out of the building.

Now, it was the fourth winter and there was still no sign of Wei Changze or Cangse Sanren.

The only thing that was keeping the child warm was his lumen. Wei Ying had to switch between keeping the lumen close to his chest then pressing it to his bare feet.

He saw what frostbite did to people. How the limbs turned black and blue and dead , until all you could do was cut it off before you rot alive.

Winter also did funny things to the body. He would see many street kids near his age or younger that were once so energetic in the warmer seasons, slowly curl inwards, go to sleep and never wake up again.

It looked really…. peaceful. Just close your eyes and all the bad things will go away. Wei Ying wasn’t sure if he wanted that, though.

The lumen in his tight embrace was visibly shaking. Its hue had again taken on a deep red.

“W-what’s..wrong..?” The little lad managed to stammer out. Wei Ying understood that the shade meant that the lumen was angry about something, but he wasn't exactly sure on what . He was never really good at reading the other’s thoughts.

His red star just cuddled itself closer to Wei Ying’s chest, as silent as ever.

(It wasn’t until years later, when Wei Ying finally met the man who he would one day call ‘husband’ did he understand that the lumen was simply scolding itself over the fact that it couldn’t do more .

Aiyah…! What have I done to deserve this? If there’s anything that fate did right, it was giving me you , Hua Cheng. )

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

During the last twenty years since the little silver lumen had made its appearance, it had not left Crimson Rain’s side and Yin Yu could honestly say that he had never seen his lord look this contended.

Of course Chengzhu spoiling the lumen past the point of sense was part of the deal. His lord didn’t stop at the dollhouse, he went so far as to provide custom-made brushes and bamboo scrolls fit for the little one’s size whenever the lumen was in the mood to draw or scribble, make it little scarves and hats whenever winter season arrived, and even had miniature kitchen-ware prepared anytime the lumen fancied making one of its spicy dishes.

(Yin Yu couldn’t comprehend how Chengzhu was able to stomach those concoctions with an excellent poker-face, while showering the lumen with compliments for its ‘innovative cuisine’, but he’ll never say it aloud. He’d like to keep his job, thank you very much.)

However, all those sweet and ridiculous moments could never fully cover up the cracks that both Hua Cheng and Yin Yu would see in the little light’s mischievous nature.

During the times that they would go out for a stroll around the city, they’d notice how the lumen would flinch and hide in Hua Cheng’s sleeves whenever a street performance involved the crackings of a whip, which resulted in Chengzhu banning anyone using it outdoors.

How the lumen would cower at the mere sound of a bark and quiver in the presence of an actual dog. No matter how small.

(The first time it caught sight of a dog, the lumen had shot like an arrow, launching itself off of Hua Cheng and furiously flown away from the canine, which resulted in the mutt to chase after it in some form of play. Both he and Chengzhu looked all over the city until they finally found the poor thing huddled up in a tree with a pack of mongrels circling around it.

All it took was a flash of his crimson eye for Chengzhu to disperse the dogs and send them yelping, running away with their tails between their legs. Afterwards, Yin Yu was tasked with keeping any stray dog out of the surrounding grounds of Paradise Manor.)

No matter how many times his lord would gently question- interrogate the silver lumen, it wouldn’t give Hua Cheng any sort of answer for these alarming signs.

Then, one day it eventually accumulated to something truly terrifying. A type of change that was wholly irreversible.

A stain had formed within the pristine silver. It started off as a small misshapen reddish-black dot at the centre, growing and expanding like a fungus, until it practically enveloped the whole sphere and only left a few splotches of its original colour.

Hua Cheng masked his panic with fury. He knew what it meant. His other half was toying with demonic energy, an utter detriment to one’s health and cultivation, which was clearly reflected in the lumen’s behaviour, becoming less and less energetic as the months passed by.

Throughout the years, they were able to narrow down that Chengzhu’s soulmate was a young man who was following the righteous path, that he was taken in by a renowned sect, that he was a martial arts’ prodigy who mastered the Four Arts, swordsmanship and had a knack for talisman work.

Hua Cheng would go on manhunts with this little bit of information. Subtly checking every young cultivator he came across, anyone who fit the corresponding age, gender and other criteria. Trying to track down and stop his foolish soulmate from playing with forces that shouldn’t be messed with. Yet, with every hint, every lead, every shred of hope or potential breakthrough, he would always hit a wall.

Then came the day when it just…quiets. The lumen, once vibrant and playful, always seeking Hua Cheng’s attention, simply stopped hovering all together and found refuge in the lord’s sleeves. Refusing to come out no matter how many times Hua Cheng would coax it with his soothing words or tempt it with gifts. He would take it to all its favourite spots, remind it of all the pranks it pulled, all in an attempt to improve its mood.

Nothing. No response. It might as well have been an ordinary ball at that point.

Hua Cheng was at his wits’ end, fear was now an ever-tightening noose around his neck. It was only because of Yin Yu’s suggestion did he go to the Gambler’s Den to take his mind off of the issue.

The Calamity decided to take out his frustrations on the next fool who thought they could challenge him.

He didn’t have to wait long.

A paranoid merchant, already at the height of his success demanded for his rivals’ businesses to go under, predictably lost all his fortune for his insatiable greed.

Next, a novelist who had run out of ideas begs Hua Cheng to provide him with his next muse in exchange for his priceless writing tools, he stumbles out of the den sans hands.

Then, an arrogant martial artist comes up, bets on his family’s precious sword in exchange for a rare cultivation manual. Twas an heirloom passed down through generations etc. etc. Wouldn’t stop whining about how the game was rigged after he lost his dumb sword. Hua Cheng ‘advised’ that he could win it back if he bets on his sword arm. The idiot hightailed out of the den with the patrons’ jeers keeping him company.

Hua Cheng impatiently tapped his fingers against the armrests. Normally he’d feel a sense of boredom or smug satisfaction in the face of his opponents losses, but there was too much going on in his mind, a tumbleweed that wouldn’t stop furiously spinning in the sand. He felt tense and antsy, if he were alive, his heart would’ve been beating unusually fast. It was as if his body knew what was about to happen.

CRACK!

That awful awful sound echoed throughout the Gambler’s Den. The laughter lodged in everyone’s throats, all the smiles died, in just one second, every semblance of movement came to an abrupt halt. An eerie silence descended on the previously rowdy crowd.

Everyone knew what that sound meant before their King did.

Their lord became still as a statue, wide-eyed, a sheen of sweat breaking out on snow-white skin, hands tightly gripping the armrest until his veins stood out. Hua Cheng could feel tiny, sharp pricks all over the underside of his left arm, drawing blood and wetting the interior of his sleeve. Slowly, shakingly, he lowered it and out his little star came in a jagged blood-stained waterfall of shards, forming into a pile on his lap.

Hua Cheng thought he heard the watchful ghosts let out horrified gasps. He couldn't be sure, every sound that reached his ears seemed muffled and warped, as if he were underwater.

This couldn’t be happening. It was a joke, right? Another prank?

Yes. That’s what it was. Maybe his little star had learned some new trick and was going to pop out any moment to startle him.

But no. The ‘glass shards’ did not miraculously reform into the orb he so adored nor was it some kind of clever switch.

Bit by bit the threads of his carefully tied control snapped. An oppressive wave of resentful energy flooded the den, driving every single ghost, demon and spirit to their knees from the sheer force of Chengzhu’s rage, even disintegrating a few that were too close to the altar. It was as if a mountain descended from the Heavens and crashed down onto each of their shoulders, forcing all the ghosts to bear its immovable weight. Not even the other residents in Ghost City were spared. Earthquakes of hellish magnitude erupted from the Gambler’s Den and reverberated throughout the city’s entirety, extinguishing all the street lanterns, leaving everyone in darkness as carts, people and buildings were knocked over, while demolishing others from the cracks that have formed within the earth. Every ghost near the den instinctively skittered away, having just a mere taste of their King’s wrath was enough to make them flee to safety. While back inside the den, the frozen ghosts watched in silent horror as blackish-red smoke permeated off of their lord, distorting the air around him. Silver-wraith butterflies now rapidly fluttering above him in a furious dance, E-ming had awoken from its slumber, wildly trembling in its sheath in response to its master’s distress, Hua Cheng’s one eye glowed an ominous red, hands tightly clenching the armrests of his throne until they splintered.

“ Yin Yu… ” Even his voice was off, somehow coming out deeper and malformed, as if his vocal chords had been shredded and stitched back together.

“Yin Yu.” Hua Cheng spat out through clenched teeth, thinking he hadn’t been heard. Utterly pulverising the armrests with his unforgiving grip, driving the splinters into his palms and fingers. Not that he felt it nor cared.

“I’m here, my lord.”

“Monitor all the ghost-fires that wandered into the city. I want a list of every single recorded death that took place within the last few minutes, search the entirety of the Central Plains if you have to.” He might as well have ordered Yin Yu to bring him the moon next, the sheer man-power such an unattainable task would need… Hua Cheng’s mind started overworking itself, trying to narrow down the search while at the same time leaving no stone unturned. “Dis-dismemberment…” if the lumen’s state was anything to go by… “Look into cases where a young man died via dismemberment or bodily mutilation.” Hua Cheng forced out, mentally shying away from the image, scarcely restraining himself from flinching at the mere thought ….

“My lord…” Yin Yu hesitantly muttered, wanting to interrupt.

Hua Cheng wasn’t listening. He had to stand up. He needed to get up and start the search.

But he couldn’t . Whatever remained of his little star was still on his lap. Hua Cheng will never forgive himself if he scattered the lumen’s remnants all over the filthy floor.

“ And for fuck’s sake call that stupid fish! ” The Calamity seethed, resentful energy swirling around, viscously lashing out. “It’s past time he pays off his debt with something useful. I don’t care what you have to do, just bring him here!”

“MY LORD!” Yin Yu shouted, tightly gripping Chengzhu’s arm and wrenching him back to the present.

“Can’t you feel that presence?!”

Hua Cheng’s eye widened at the implications. He attempted to centre himself and stretch out his senses, anxiously combing through the demonic qi of every corner, every crevice of his city, brow quickly furrowing in frustration when he didn’t pick up anything. Hua Cheng was about to snap at Yin Yu, when he finally felt it.

It was light and so so very weak. The yin signature barely discernible among the ocean of demonic qi permeating from Ghost City. Like a shrivelled leaf that rustled its way here, purely by accident, the wind being the only thing that kept it moving forward.

A strangled gasp tore through Hua Cheng’s lips.

His soulmate was on his way here….

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

There he lied, ignorant to the ensuing chaos his abrupt death brought upon the poor residents of Ghost City, the young ghost was in a fetal position on the cold, grassless ground, utterly numb to the ongoing mayhem happening half a li away from where he was curled up.

There he lied, silver eyes vacantly staring forward yet not really seeing anything. The thought of moving or even twisting his head never once crossing his mind.

Wei Ying just wanted to stay like this until he can finally stop thinking all together.

The full moon hung high in the sky. Illuminating the empty field with its serene glow. Bright enough to make the black speck stand out from Wei Ying’s peripheral vision.

Wei Ying didn’t know what exactly pushed him to go and take a closer look. Perhaps it was an attempt to distract himself from this suffocating emptiness or just plain old morbid curiosity.

Regardless, the now-ghost found himself sitting up on his knees and slowly crawling forward to the round-ish object.

Wei Ying saw a lot of black, plenty of dark red, a few hints of white and-

Oh.

It was his own head.

Wei Ying blinked owlishly as he grabbed the head and laid it on his lap. Inspecting it with a detached air. Uncaring to the congealed blackish blood slowly seeping into his torn robes.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for the half-lidded moonstone eye, identical to his own, Wei Ying would’ve thought that it was the head of another one of his fierce corpses.

There was hardly any skin on the face. Most of it were torn off by blunt teeth or sharpened fingernails, revealing the jaw bones, muscles and sinew underneath. The nose and chunks of meat beneath the flesh were also chewed off, even some of the teeth were missing. The lower jaw was gone, leaving the now-purple tongue to just hang off from the severed neck. Wei Ying was somewhat surprised that it wasn’t devoured as well. The hair wasn’t spared, either. There were bloody bald patches all over the top of the skull, several handfuls of hair had been ripped off, taking bits of flesh along with the strands.

Wei Ying doubted his own mother could’ve recognised him. The only identifying feature that would’ve linked him and this thing was that one eye, the other was nowhere to be found. With the way the stringy nerve hung out of the empty socket, most likely the second eye was plucked out and eaten too.

He looked around and noticed several body parts scattered throughout the field. A limb here, a hand there. Wei Ying spied a torso not too far away from where he was currently sitting.

Did he have to reassemble his own corpse? Like some sort of macabre puzzle?

Why was he here? Where was here?

In the fashion of broken pieces of glass lazily put back together, his memories of what happened that night gradually reassembled. There were still several pieces missing, but from what he could recall, after copious amounts of his blood spilt on the cave-floor, they soaked into several half-formed experimental arrays that he haphazardly drew on the rocky surface. It must've resulted in some type of mutant spell that functioned as a bastardised distance shortening array. Wei Ying vaguely remembered all those scribbles glowing in unison, a certain pull ……and then nothing.

Wei Ying looked down at his own head again.

The head stared back.

A ghost having a staring contest with its own head.

Unexpectedly, his lips started twitching upwards.

Wei Ying pinched himself, trying to school his expression.

“Pfffh-!” He quickly clamped his mouth shut with both hands.

That didn’t stop his shoulders from shaking, though.

It started as muffled, bubble-sized chortles that squeezed past his clasped hands, turning into bursts of giggles of varying pitches and decibels, before finally descending into manic, body-rocking laughter, hot tears bursting out of widened, unblinking eyes, streaming down his face as Wei Ying continued to howl in complete hysterics, his mania echoing all round the field, cradling the mutilated head to his chest as he did so.

If a group of travellers stumbled upon this sight, they would’ve assumed Wei Ying had hit his head and turned into a complete lunatic.

Head! Hah! Get it?! A ghost holding its own head. Wasn’t that just fucking hilarious?!

Maybe he did turn into a lunatic after all.

There was something warm urgently pushing at Wei Ying’s cheek, with enough force that it twisted his neck to the side a bit. His deranged chuckles sputtered to a halt as Wei Ying flinched away, near-feral eyes swerving at the potential new threat.

It was his red star.

Wei Ying let out a broken gasp. Almost choking on air as he accidentally took his first breath in this new form.

“ You’re still here…? ” He rasped disbelievingly. The crimson lumen’s surface was convulsing uncontrollably, similar to the rippling waters of a disturbed lake. Its black splotch shimmering non-stop, were it human, it would be holding back tears.

The poor thing was forced to watch as its Chosen was having the mother of all breakdowns, distressed that it couldn’t snap Wei Ying out of it sooner.

“You’re still here…” He stated with a bit more certainty, shaky hands reaching out, to touch, to feel . Wanting- needing to confirm that this was real.

The lumen wasted no time, jumping into Wei Ying’s arms, furiously pushing the head away from its mate’s grasp. It rolled a fair distance away. Good. The further, the better.

“ You’re still here…you’re still here… ” Wei Ying repeated, a never ending litany of reassurances and comfort, both for himself and his red star. His hysterical sobbing turned to that of relief, expressing his tearful joy and sorrow without care or shame.

The red lumen fiercely burrowed into Wei Ying’s chest. Wanting to shout: I’m here! I’m here!

“ I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry . Wei Ying was wrong. An awful soulmate. This lowly one will never push you away again.” He whimpered pitifully, rubbing his cheek against the warm, quivering surface. Recollecting the past few months where he purposefully distanced himself from the lumen, even verbally pushing it away at times, Wei Ying was recoiling from his own abhorrent behaviour. How could he have treated his Chosen like that….?

The lumen was rapidly shaking itself side-to-side. Not wanting to hear or even see Wei Ying looking so apologetic again. He shouldn’t be the one apologising! Not that the ghost was paying much attention to its reaction. The lumen patiently waited until the shaking stopped, for the sobs to eventually quiet down, for its Wei Ying’s breathing to even out.

Once his emotions finally settled, Wei Ying felt the wave of exhaustion hit him with a vengeance. He was so tired . The young ghost was about to lie down on the cold ground and curl up again, this time with his red star to keep him company, but it forcefully wrenched itself out of his embrace.

He let out a shocked cry. Confused and hurt in equal measures. Wei Ying was about to reach out to the lumen again before stopping himself. Hands lowering to clench his robes instead, head bowed defeatedly.

What right did he have to-

Whatever self-deprecating train of thought he was having was firmly derailed once he felt the lumen urgently pushing at his shoulder-blades. Clearly telling Wei Ying to stand up. He hesitantly did so. Legs quaking from having to support his full weight. Wei Ying wobbled on his feet a bit, unused to this new form.

It was at this moment he realised that his feet were bare and his robes? Most of the layers were torn off and he only had his underrobe that was barely hanging off his shoulders. It no longer looked white beneath all the smeared dirt, blood and filth. Wei Ying thoughtlessly felt the back of his head and noticed that there was no ribbon keeping his hair up. Leaving the black tresses to tumble down his back like a mournful banner. That, coupled with his malnourished state from when he was alive…

At least Wei Ying looked the part of a ghost.

His red star was now glowing brightly. Wei Ying stared, fascinated and baffled as several tendrils grew out of the lumen, extending, coiling and firmly wrapping around one of his arms like vines, each end of the tendrils were oddly shaped, for some reason they looked like animal paws. But for the life of him, Wei Ying couldn’t say what type.

His red star started moving forward, pulling Wei Ying along with it. He had no choice but to follow. Not that he minded.

Wei Ying couldn’t say how long he walked. He didn’t bother focusing on where they were going nor was he all too alarmed at this strange development. A sense of calm apathy settled within Wei Ying’s mind as he distantly heard his feet crunching against the harsh ground, slightly wincing as the jagged rocks tore into the soles, listening to his own breathing, the night breeze whistling past his ears, with nothing but the moon, stars and his lumen to accompany him.

That bubble of peculiar serenity popped the moment he set foot in what appeared to be a city that had just been razed. Wei Ying’s eyes widened as they bore witness to sheer pandemonium. People-animals-demons(?) were everywhere . Some trying to help their fellows out of crumbled buildings, others stampeding and climbing atop each other, clearly trying to get away from something, all of them wailing and crying over how their lord(?) seemed to have finally lost his mind.

What was worse was that his red star was actively pulling Wei Ying towards the panicking crowd. He was forced to brush against other people, squeeze himself in narrow gaps among the throng of demons, experience inhuman shrieks and bellows blaring right into his eardrums, as the lumen purposefully dragged him to go the opposite direction of where the horde of spirits were going.

The constant shoving, pushing, stumbling, tugging within a small space where he was at the mercy of those beings had Wei Ying break out in cold sweat, eyes popping out of his head to the point that the whites showed, his vision of this crowd intermingling with what he ordered the fierce corpses to do with him. Taking Wei Ying back to that night again.

“ Stop… ” He weakly called out, knees buckling, breath quickening. The lumen wrapped around his arm was the only thing that was keeping Wei Ying upright. “Stop…!” He called out again, hoping that it would hear .

No more! No more!

His legs could no longer bear his own weight. Wei Ying lost his will to keep going and crouched down to the ground, using his free arm to protect his head. Instinctively aware that the terrified masses will likely trample all over him now.

Except that didn’t happen. There was a flashing red light, blazing so brightly that Wei Ying tightly closed his eyes and used both arms to shield his stinging retinas.

Wait. Both arms?! When did his lumen let him go?!

“ Red star…! ” Wei Ying shouted, he couldn’t open his eyes. He was tightly wedged among the terrified rabble, unable to move his arms or even stand within the enclosed space. Heart filling with a new kind of dread.

Don’t go…. Don’t leave me too…

Gradually, the blinding light died down. Wei Ying was ready to spring back up and start searching for his companion like a man possessed. Only he didn’t need to.

There was a familiar warmth brushing up and down his raised arms. Soft and soothing.

It took Wei Ying a few seconds to register that he now had enough room to move. He instinctively grabbed at his lumen, firmly wrapping his arms around the sphere and squeezed. Were it any other creature, he would’ve been constricting its airflow. The lumen indulged Wei Ying until he ultimately calmed down again.

Tentatively, Wei Ying stood back up. The previously screaming crowd, the one that had been toppling over each other in their panicked state and compressing him into a tight space had fallen into an abnormal hush. They’d even given Wei Ying a wide berth. Now, the demons stood statue-still, staring at the young ghost with wide eyes, pointing and whispering to each other, expressions rapidly shifting from terror induced confusion to cautious optimism.

Wei Ying felt his skin itch from all the gawking. No matter what anyone would say, he had never really liked being the centre of attention. Not when it was always accompanied with scorn and derision, people acting all high and mighty because they thought themselves morally superior.

Had the Yiling Lazou’s shadow followed him all the way here? Was he forever haunted for his sins? Wholly irredeemable from his past crimes?

Even death couldn’t give me the escape that I wanted….

There was another insistent tug at his arm.

Oh, that’s right. His lumen was still here, securely gripping his wrist. Like a puppet, he impassively let the sphere guide him to wherever he needed to go. Anyone that was in Wei Ying’s way quickly skittered off to the side, as if the thought of them brushing shoulders was enough to fill them with fear. His features turned slack, almost doll-like in the face of all the whispers, finger-pointing, nervous shifting and evasive gazes. Let them say what they want, think what they want. Wei Ying still had his red star and that was all that mattered.

Several times Wei Ying was close to falling on his knees and just sit down on the street to rest, he’d lost all feeling from the soles of his feet to his thighs. But whenever the thought would tempt him, the lumen would let go of his wrist and gently brush against Wei Ying’s hollowed cheeks, blinkering reassuringly. He could practically hear the words:

It’s okay. You’re doing so well. So so well.

Just a few more steps. We’re almost there.

The amount of care this strange ball of light would provide his wretched-self nearly made him weep. Wei Ying will never understand what he did to deserve this.

The young ghost stumbled and shambled his way into what looked like a gambling den, untouched by the disaster that seemed to have struck the rest of this bizarre city.

The uneven, rocky cobblestone gave way to soft, smooth carpeting. He was able to see his path much more clearly with the lumen, now too bright for comfort, instead of the den’s faint lanterns hanging above him. All the hushed voices that seemed to follow Wei Ying like flies unexpectedly died down. The only sounds that reached his ears were his own rattling breaths.

For reasons unknown to him, Wei Ying felt apprehension creeping up his shoulders, a stiffness in his spine that kept growing the deeper he got into the building.

Even more alarming was that the closer they got to whatever was in that den, the more his red star was changing . It didn’t stop at those odd tendrils or that blazing light. The lumen’s colours were shifting, the black within breaking apart, each piece floating around the crimson interior at varying speeds, it reminded Wei Ying of a miniature snowstorm. The lumen was spasming so much that it was losing its roundness, becoming more and more of a glowing blob. Wei Ying could’ve sworn that the lumen was trying to force itself into a new shape. In spite of the impromptu changes, it never once stopped pulling Wei Ying forward or let go of his wrist.

He should be unnerved, he should be scared . This was out of his element and he didn’t understand what the hell was going on, but Wei Ying was more petrified over who or what was in the main hall that was making his lumen act-up like this.

A shaking hand reached out and hesitantly pulled back the beaded curtain. The first thing that caught his eye was the altar with its red curtains drawn. As he slowly made his way into the hall, Wei Ying was able to see the outline of a man sitting on a throne. He didn’t need to look behind that curtain to know he was being watched. It felt like that strange man could see all the way through him, puncturing the young ghost’s flesh and bones until he was peering right into Wei Ying’s soul.

He winced. An instinctual part of himself wanted to shy away from that intense gaze.

The lumen eventually stopped Wei Ying at the foot of the altar, letting go of his wrist. The young ghost’s legs gave out, crashing onto the floor. Finally gracing the abused limbs with a moments’ rest.

Wei Ying watched, entranced, heart in his throat as the blood red lumen started to disperse , breaking apart into tiny pebble-sized pieces, pulled by some unknown force towards floating silver shards that appeared to glow -another lumen?- the pieces furiously orbiting around each other in a radiant whirlpool, colliding in bursts of silver and red sparks that hurt the eyes, exchanging and mingling colours with every contact, the pieces reassembling, reforming into something else. Long bodies, four legs, claws, snouts, tails….

Wei Ying gaped at the two foxes now standing before him.

Well, one of them was standing. The smaller of the two tried to take a step towards the other fox, but tittered off to the side and smacked onto the floor like a newborn foal.

The larger fox let out a low cry of dismay. Crouching at the other’s side, nuzzling its companion’s head, urging it to stand back up.

“...red star…?” He hoarsely called out. Prompting the bigger of the two to look at him.

Wei Ying studied the ‘fox’. The creature had a shining deep red coat, with thick white fur sprouting from its chest, long legs that blended from red to black, white-ringed ears that twitched playfully, a thick white-tipped tail that looked soft to the touch and its entire body the length of a man’s torso. The most remarkable thing was that it had one brown-ish gold eye instead of two. It looked like it was winking at Wei Ying, giving off a boyish, mischievous air. It was beautiful , majestic even. If it had a few more tails, Wei Ying would’ve mistaken it for a king of foxes.

The fox’s regal appearance shone all the brighter compared to that pitiful black creature lying behind it.

The other fox’s fur was a deep black with a ruby-red underbelly and face, silver-tipped tail and moonstone eyes, matching Wei Ying’s. It would’ve given off a more subtle beauty had its coat not been dishevelled and unkempt. It also appeared to be malnourished to the point that its ribs were showing and had trouble standing on its own feet. Legs trembling with every attempt to stand.

He will never claim to be an expert in lumen-lore, but even Wei Ying knew what this transformation meant.

An odd clink-clinking sound echoed within the quiet hall, like soft bells tickling his ears. Wei Ying heard curtains rustling, approaching footsteps overlapping with those sweet chimes, getting closer to where he was kneeling.

Wei Ying’s thought process stopped altogether, whatever breath in his lungs was viscously expelled. He needed to leave. He had to leave.

He tried pushing himself off the floor with his hands, smacking his useless legs when they wouldn’t listen. To no avail.

Of all the times that I could’ve met my soulmate, why did it have to be now?!

Why can’t fate just stop using him as the butt of every joke…?

Something wet and coarse glided across Wei Ying’s cheek.

Huh…?

The red fox was nosing the spot it had just licked before bumping its Chosen’s chin with its nose. Once, twice, thrice, until Wei Ying’s breaths evened out again.

The fox stepped aside and backed away. In its place, an elegant hand appeared in Wei Ying’s field of vision, steady and unmoving.

There were no noticeable scars or blemishes on it, the fingers long and slender, the middle-finger had a red string loosely tied at the base, each digit topped off with black-painted nails, making the snow-white skin even more pronounced, the palm broad with thickened skin, there were also noticeable calluses on the fingers, particularly in the areas where a brush or pencil would be secured. An artist’s hand.

Wei Ying swallowed around the lump in his throat. Reluctantly, he gripped the offered hand with two of his own, allowing the other to pull him up on his feet with ease.

Unfortunately, Wei Ying’s legs still refused to function properly and he tipped forward, arms instinctively grabbing at the nearest object to keep his balance, which -to his horror- happened to be the mysterious man.

Somehow, it ended up with the younger wrapping his arms around that person’s neck, ear pressed to their chest, while the elder enclosed Wei Ying’s thin waist with one arm, steadying him.

Three realisations hit the young ghost at the same time:

One, the man was tall . Wei Ying by no means considered himself short and the fact that his ear reached the other male’s chest was a sheer testament to the other's freakish height.

Two, there was no heartbeat, which - obviously - this guy was a ghost too, but since that was the case, why was his body radiating so much heat? Did he do that for Wei Ying’s sake? Subconsciously aware of his aversion to anything cold?

Three, the elder ghost smelled lovely . There was a fluorescence that ringed of freshly bloomed carnations, coupled with an earthy scent that reminded Wei Ying of spring rains with rusty, metallic undertones.

Wei Ying almost didn’t want to leave this spontaneous embrace, he couldn’t remember the last time someone willingly hugged him like this.

….didn’t he want to leave just a few minutes ago…?

Wei Ying was mortified. Both by his own perverse thoughts and the man’s seemingly endless patience. Any normal person would’ve shoved him off by now. If he still had a beating heart, he would’ve fainted from all the blood rushing to his head.

The moment some feeling came back to his legs, he jolted against the man’s hold. Silently asking to be let go. The man quickly dropped his arm, as if burnt. Wei Ying backed up a step, hugging himself, gaze stubbornly trained on the other male’s collarbone. Not because he found the jewellery draped on it interesting or worth examining.

He just didn’t have the heart to look at this man in the eye.

The other ghost didn’t seem to agree with that idea, though. Those same elegant digits carefully curled around Wei Ying’s chin, gently but firmly coaxing the younger to look up.

The moment Wei Ying did so, he thought: Oh. He should’ve known what the fox’s appearance indicated.

The words ‘handsome, but feral’ would be an apt description. Flawless features, jade-like skin, perfectly shaped eyebrows, slanted nose, bow-shaped lips with sharp canines peeking out and a dark eye that appeared to be shining beneath the dim lights like a lone star.

What a devastating beauty…..

That same eye crinkled a bit as the man twisted his lips into a tentative smile. He uttered one word:

“Hello.”

“Hi…” Wei Ying replied back, equally breathless.

The man - his soulmate his other-half - let out a slight laugh. Awed and relieved in equal measures. The fingers that were gripping his chin slowly drifted upwards, lightly cupping Wei Ying’s cheek. Silver eyes involuntarily fluttered at the unexpectedly intimate gesture.

Wei Ying didn’t need a mirror to know that he was in just as much disbelief.

“May this one know your name…?”

“W-wei…” It was as if he’d just swallowed sand, he was parched . The younger licked his chapped lips and tried again.

“Wei Ying.”

“ Wei Ying… ” The elder echoed. Slowly enunciating each syllable with an undercurrent of reverence and attentiveness, etching the name into his memory.

Like beams of sunlight breaking out of grey clouds, the man gifted Wei Ying with a smile, not the kind one would plaster on to calm a spooked horse, but a genuine smile, one of unadulterated delight. It was the smile of a man who at long last was able to put a name and a face to the person fate chose to be with him.

“Mine is Hua Cheng. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“...sorry to have kept you waiting.” Wei Ying rasped out.

Hua Cheng merely shook his head in reply. Gently declining the unnecessary apology.

Wei Ying felt his heart lurch at the familiar gesture.

His lumen never did like it whenever he told it ‘sorry’.

Against his will, tears pricked up at the corners of his eyes, clinging to his lashes.

Gods, what was wrong with him…?

Feeling far too vulnerable for comfort, Wei Ying looked away, tightly clutching his ruined robes, shivering slightly.

There was a small pause, the warm hand that was resting on his cheek disappeared, a rustle of clothes and then a new weight on his back, followed by that familiar flower-rusted scent.

Wei Ying blinked. Hua Cheng had just draped his outer robe on his shoulders.

“You look like you needed it more than me.” He swiftly answers in response to the younger’s inquiring gaze.

“...thanks.” What else could he possibly say? Wei Ying knew the sorry state that he was in. He clutched the crimson robe tighter around his body, feeling all the more self-conscious.

Wei Ying thought he heard Hua Cheng let out a slight gasp.

“Your feet…” He uttered, dismayed.

Wei Ying peered down at the limbs in question and let out a small ‘oh’.

If his state of dress was bad, this was even worse. His feet were caked in mud, grime and dried blood. So much so, that he couldn’t even see his own skin. All of his toenails had dirt beneath the nail beds, some were even chipped. Adjusting his weight to his heels, Wei Ying let out a low hiss as he felt the pointed stones and debris stuck in his soles shift with the motion.

If Wei Ying saw anyone’s feet in a similar condition, he would’ve demanded that they get medical treatment immediately or risk getting an infection followed by a swift amputation, but since he was already dead….

He met Hua Cheng’s troubled gaze with a shrug.

“It doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Besides, I’ve had worse.”

He really couldn’t have picked a more atrocious response if he tried. Wei Ying watched as Hua Cheng’s brow furrowed, numerous emotions flickered in his eye, the elder pursed his lips and got close - too close! - to the younger ghost.

“What are you doing?!” Wei Ying yelped. Backing away from the sudden movement.

Having noticed that he had startled the young man, Hua Cheng dropped his previously outstretched arms.

“You can’t honestly expect me to just leave you to walk around like this.”

“And you’re going to…what? Carry me? I’m fine . It’s not like this will kill me, anyway!”

Hua Cheng’s expression tightened. He looked frustrated, as if there was something that Wei Ying just wasn’t getting.

The elder eventually lowered his head, black hair falling around his face, concealing his features. Hua Cheng let out a quiet sigh.

“Indulge me just this once and I’ll never ask this of you again.” He requested softly.

The way this ghost -this lord , for who else could Hua Cheng be?- acting so docile, so subdued, towards a fledgling spirit like him made Wei Ying’s stomach churn.

“You don’t have to….I’m not worth the trouble.”

“ Wei Ying .” The shift in tone made his ears prick. Dark eye looking at him steadfastly before continuing “I’ve lived over twenty years with your lumen. This hardly counts as trouble.” A slight, secretive smile played on Hua Cheng’s lips, one that spoke of colourful tales and impish stories.

Wei Ying tightly clenched the robe to his chest. Hands shaking.

Stubborn man….

“...fine. If you insist.”

For a moment, Wei Ying thought he was floating, arms immediately snaking around the man’s neck once more as he found himself in a maiden's-carry. Hua Cheng gave Wei Ying a few moments to adjust comfortably in his hold, frowning deeply when he felt that the younger ghost was far too light for someone his size. He steadily made his way out of the den, careful not to jostle Wei Ying too much.

Do I even weigh anything to him…?

A sudden thought struck him.

“Red star….!” How could he have forgotten?! He never went anywhere without it. Wei Ying craned his neck to look over Hua Cheng’s shoulder, ear brushing against the side of the man’s head as his eyes rapidly darted around the place.

“He’s fine.” Hua Cheng assured, warm breath licking the shell of Wei Ying’s ear. His chest vibrated with his next words “Yin Yu has them.”

Wei Ying reflexively shivered at that. Thinking he was cold, Hua Cheng raised his body temperature slightly and tightened his hold. Hoping that it would warm up the younger.

Wei Ying ignored the nervous fluttering in his belly and focused on the scene unfolding behind them. This ‘Yin Yu’ -likely a servant of sorts- was crouching down at the two foxes’ level, blanket at the ready. The smaller of the two was wobbling its way towards the waiting man, leaning against the bigger fox for support.

Perhaps it was the sweetness of the scene, perhaps it was the exhaustion finally catching up to him, but Wei Ying found himself completely dropping his guard, mind going blank as he did so. He rested his forehead against the other’s shoulder, eyelids becoming too heavy for him to keep open anymore. The steady pace created a soothing rhythm, further coaxing his drowsy mind to just close his eyes and go to sleep.

“ Rest , Wei Ying. I promise that nothing will disturb or harm you here. Not anymore.”

***Bonus scene***

After having the best bath of his (un)life and his poor feet tenderly wrapped in bandages and ointment, Wei Ying found himself lying on a massive bed in a room fit for a king (which had a dollhouse sitting on the window sill for some strange reason).

He was lying down on his side, blankets up to his chin, watching the two foxes cuddling together on the pillow next to his head.

Mind repeating the same confusing turn of events for the nth time.

“Wait! Why are you giving it to me? Isn’t it your fox?”

Hua Cheng gently shook his head. His gaze noticeably softened at the sight of the red fox hovering over the black one. Tail swishing back-and-forth in slight agitation.

“I don’t have the heart to separate them. You don’t mind keeping them in your room for the night, do you?”

‘Your’ room. As if Wei Ying now had somewhere to belong in this grand mansion.

“I’m gonna need to come up with a new name for you.” He said, out of the blue. The red fox twitched its ears, questionably looking at its Chosen.

“I can’t just keep calling you ‘red star’. It doesn't suit you anymore.” Wei Ying babbled on in explanation. The red fox let out a low chitter of agreement.

“And you….!” He pointed at the smaller fox, making it blink its silver eyes in confusion. “You need to start eating more. And groom yourself! You can’t always rely on red star to take care of you.”

The red fox let out a higher-pitched chitter. Agreeing with some points and disagreeing with others.

Wei Ying reached out a hand and carded his fingers through the red, warm fur. Marvelling at its softness.

He stretched his neck and planted a lingering kiss on the fox’s forehead. The creature fluttered its eye in contentment.

“Good night, you two.” Wei Ying mumbled, drifting off to a -thankfully- dreamless sleep.

In a study on the other side of Paradise Manor, Hua Cheng was startled out of his thoughts when he felt someone lightly running their hand up and down his back. The touch warm and the fingers nimble.

There was no one in the room with him.

The phantom stroking faded to a stop. He was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when he felt something warm and slightly damp brush against his forehead, gentle as a petal’s touch.

Hua Cheng layed a cool hand on heated cheeks.

Does his soulmate not know?

Tomorrow . He’ll educate Wei Ying about lumen-etiquette tomorrow....

......and why he shouldn’t just let anyone touch his fox.

End.

Thanks for reading! Hope ya enjoyed!

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sheliesshattered · 2 years ago

Text

Cataloging all the HotD Daemyra fic ideas floating around my head that I definitely have zero time to write right now. In no particular order:

-First Of His Name: Realizing that he murdered his wife in pursuit of a male heir that died only hours later, that same night Viserys tells Daemon to look after Rhaenyra and restore the glory of their house, then khs in front of witnesses by stepping out the window Tommen Baratheon style. Suddenly Daemon is King, and the last line of support to Rhaenyra who lost her entire family in one day. The political mechanizations of those who want to see the Targaryen dynasty fall, a brewing war in the Stepstones, and the need for one or both of them to marry and produce heirs complicate Daemon’s long-held dream of being King. Slow burn from grief-comfort to ruling power couple.

-The Bed Is A Battlefield: One-shot set between eps 7 and 8, Rhaenyra explains to Daemon that she’s always had to keep her lovers secret for fear of what discovery would mean. But now that they are married and settled on Dragonstone with their children, she would like him to actually share her bed and not slip away in the small hours of the morning. Domestic fluff by way of Rhaenyra demanding what she wants like the queen she is.

-Vanity and Frustration: AU where Daemon and Rhaenyra marry in ep 5, and early in their marriage Daemon decides to start growing his hair out again. And as anyone who has grown out their hair knows, there are awkward stages to endure. Harmless harassment between newlyweds as Daemon grumbles about the state of his hair.

-The Last Dragon: 15 years ago, shortly after Daemon took Caraxes and fled to Essos to avoid a forced marriage to Rhea Royce, a coup executed by the Lords of Westeros resulted in the murder of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne and all their descendants, as well as nearly all of the dragons. There are rumors that a few Targaryens may have escaped, and some of the unclaimed dragons fled across the Narrow Sea to save themselves -- but all Daemon knows for certain is that he’s the last of his family he knows of, possibly the last living Targaryen anywhere in the world, the last dragon rider, and the rightful King of Westeros.

But he knows he can’t take revenge all alone -- he needs heirs, he needs more dragon riders, he needs to rebuild the House of the Dragon to a force that can burn down all those who murdered his family. And for that, he’s in need of a wife. There are no legitimate Targaryens left, at least none living openly, but there are pale-haired violet-eyed descendants of Valyria to be found all throughout Essos. He simply has to find one he can craft into a queen and the mother to all future Targaryens.

After years of searching, his sources in Essos bring him “Neera”, an orphaned young woman raised in Pentos who has the right look and strength of will to fill the role, if only Daemon can convince her that she should want to be his wife and queen, that he is different from all the other men who have offered to pay someone else money for her maidenhead. Slow burn enemies to friends to lovers, to a complication as the truth comes to light -- the truth of Neera’s birth, and the mother who gave everything to save her from the fate that befell the rest of their family.

-Her Protector: A few years after Viserys marries Alicent, Rhaenyra is kidnapped from her bed in the Red Keep late one night. She is held captive by rough men who cannot seem to decide if they should ransom her or kill her or do something far worse, and in their indecision merely leave her locked up in a cell for long weeks -- until the glorious day that she hears the screeching of dragons overhead. Her uncle Daemon has come to save her, and kills everyone who took her, then carries her back to King’s Landing himself, never letting her out of his sight.

In King’s Landing, the people rush into the streets to see her, weeping to see the Realm’s Delight returned home alive, calling her Queen and throwing flowers at the feet of Daemon’s horse as they ride through the city with Rhaenyra curled in his arms, too weak to ride on her own, too anxious to get home to wait for a wheelhouse to be summoned. It is only then, at her insistence, that Daemon reluctantly reveals that Rhaenyra is in fact Queen -- her father was killed the night Rhaenyra was kidnapped, along with her step-mother and half-siblings. If only Daemon had been there, perhaps he could have stopped it, but he had been banished by Viserys yet again. Rhaenyra swears she will never banish him, and in fact she would make him her King Consort, if he will agree.

Years pass, and Rhaenyra recovers from her ordeal and grows into a strong, just Queen, with her husband Daemon always at her side. She has borne princes and princesses, the next generation of their house, and all in life seems to be exactly as she would want it. Until a sellsword, sentenced to death for his crimes, levels an accusation that it was Daemon who planned the kidnapping all those years ago that resulted in the death of King Viserys and Queen Alicent and their children. Who is Rhaenyra to believe? The convicted murderer seeking to gain her ear by spinning an unfortunately true-sounding story? Or her husband, her uncle, the father of her children, the man who rescued her all those years ago? And even if the sellsword’s story is true -- even then, could that possibly change how she feels about Daemon?

-Yet Another Mob Story: When the Targaryen mob family split over her father’s decision to marry outside the family, Rhaenyra sided with her uncle Daemon against her father and his new wife (her ex-best-friend). Years pass in a stalemate, until one day Rhaenyra sees Daemon’s new lieutenant Criston having lunch with Alicent and realizes that Criston is a spy sent by the Hightowers. She and Daemon devise a plan to get rid of Criston without letting the Hightowers know that they’re onto them. Really just PWP, with a little murder on the side, as a treat.

-Jane Austen Emma AU: The age gap is the same! I have no solid ideas for this one but that little detail makes me crazy!

-The Last of Us AU: I’ve posted about this once before, but the basic idea a modern apocalypse AU where Rhaenyra and her gay husband Laenor and their mutual husband Harwin (and their three sons) have to try to make it to the isolated bunker house of Laenor’s sister Laena and her husband Daemon (and their two daughters), and bad shit happens along the way but Laenor and Harwin are so determined to protect their sons and their wife that they sacrifice everything to keep them safe and get them to Daemon and Laena, up to and including their lives. Eventually Rhaenyra shows up on Daemon’s doorstep in half-feral mamabear mode, absolutely willing and able to kill anyone or anything that threatens her sons, only to find that Daemon has recently lost Laena and is similarly ready to murder to protect his daughters, and they have to come to a hesitant and wary understanding and then eventual partnership and co-parenting of their collected children. Maybe Targaryens naturally run hotter than most people, so are immune to the zombie fungus?

-Dragonriders Of Pern AU: Meleys, queen dragon of Weyrwoman Rhaenys, has laid the golden egg that signals the impending birth of the next queen dragon. Daemon (or D’mon for you Pern purists), rider of bronze Caraxes, is sent on Search to find young women to be candidates for the hatching of the new queen. In the company of other bronze riders, including Corlys and Laenor, he returns to the Hold where he grew up, where his older brother Viserys is now Lord. There he meets his niece Rhaenyra for the first time, a young woman of strong will with a natural talent for the telepathic communications of dragons. When she speaks to Caraxes as though his rider hardly existed, Daemon knows that Rhaenyra is destined to be the next weyrwoman. And as he trains her in the ways of being a dragonrider, it slowly dawns on him that he would allow none but him to stand beside Rhaenyra when Syrax’s first mating flight finally comes.

Edit: omg I forgot one! This one is so clear in my head but so difficult to describe in brief, so I’ll keep it short:

-An Eye For An Eye: The night Aemond loses his eye, when Alicent comes at Rhaenyra with the Conqueror’s dagger, her downward slash hits higher than it does in canon, striking Rhaenyra in the neck in a life-threatening wound the maesters scramble to stitch before the Crown Princess’s life slips away. With what she fears might be her last breaths, she commands Daemon to protect her sons, and he swears to hear he will protect her family -- or avenge them if he cannot. While the maesters try to save Rhaenyra, Daemon sits vigil with Rhaenyra’s sons and his daughters, watching over them while they sleep and talking long into the night with Laenor. But when Rhaenyra, only barely mended, asks for Daemon to be brought to her bedside, Aemond decides that his mother’s attempt at justice falls far short of his standards, and moves to exact his own revenge while Daemon is away...

#Daemyra #Daemon and Rhaenyra #Rhaenyra Targaryen #Daemon Targaryen #House of the Dragon #HotD #my writing #or rather the ideas I hope to maybe turn into fanfic eventually #right now I am so busy with work and cosplay sewing that I've barely been able to do more than jot a few words down here and there #please DON'T use these as prompts #or at least message me to talk about it first if something strikes an idea in your mind #some of them are general enough that there's plenty of room for other interpretations #but some of them are pretty specific and I'm really attached to #you know how it goes #tho honestly how there aren't more Pern AUs in this fandom is a mystery to me #but do feel free to message me!#either about writing something similar or to talk about these ideas or to chat about Daemyra in general #I'm full of Daemyra brainrot and short on time to write #2023 mood #I suppose #my plotbunnies

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ronni-right · 2 years ago

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Daemyra Cats AU

“Pretty little things like you shouldn't wander around. You clearly belong to the house, and not to the street.” He tells her, like he thinks she is capable of just lying around in the house and eating expensive cat food. So Rhaenyra hisses at him. “I'm not little.” She won't deny she is pretty because she knows she is. “And I’m perfectly fine in the wild.” Rhaenyra even nods at that. But it’s not true, she isn’t fine. She flicks her tail in annoyance as her heart races fast, and there is still fear in her. It was terrible, really, to meet a pack of dogs who wanted to chew at her like she was a toy. “I know where I belong.” With that she looks at the house, dreaming about her British Banquet and then her tree house where she sleeps. She turns back to the tomcat, Daemon, who brought her back home, as she got lost. He said he knows the neighborhood well, and it was easy for him to find her house. She comes a little bit closer to him, nearly presses her nose into his, hissing: “But that doesn't mean I can't explore a little. Because I want to.” His smell hits her nose, and he smells somehow familiar but she can’t pinpoint why. “Well,” he smirks, “if one day you want to explore, you can call me. There are a few cats in your neighborhood who will deliver the message to me.” She looks at him, unimpressed. Rhaenyra doesn’t need his help. Next time she will be more cautious about her exploring. “I will manage on my own.” And as she says this, she moves away from him, brushing her tail along his side, and then along his chin. Before she disappears, slipping through the cat door, she hears him purring: “Whatever you say, sweet paw.” Rhaenyra huffs, irritated. Sweet paw, what a nonsense.

#daemyra #cats au #daemon x rhaenyra #rhaenyra × daemon #hotd #daemon targeryan #rhaenyra targaryen

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shadowynn · 2 years ago

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| in love and lore | one |

pairing: ateez x fem reader

genre: fantasy/daemon/soulmate au

warnings: slight yandere behavior

summary: the daemon king and his seven black generals. names and faces of these eight had changed over the years as each new king was crowned, but their reputation as the most powerful daemons always remained the same. upon hearing the rumors one of the seven led the charge of the nearby battle, you should have stayed close to the encampment. you should have never wandered out on your own. but you did, and your life would never be the same again. good or bad, you would just have to wait to find out.

“There’s no need to be afraid, angel.” His words were a breath against the side of your neck. “You’ve done so much for us, let your king now return the favor.”

wordcount: 7.9k

a/n: very minor changes were done from the preview to the edited first chapter, so i just update them here instead of going about posting another one that was basically the same. you can go back and reread if you were here for the preview, but it's not really necessary.

| one | two |

The pads of your feet were soundless as you made your way across the city streets, crisscrossing in the shadows of the now abandoned buildings. At one point the silence of your movements had unnerved you, but you had long gotten used to the stillness of your footsteps. This was not your first journey into the dead zones, nor would it be your last.

You had visited the neighboring city of Binna often as a child, but it was no longer the place you remembered from your childhood. As the latest target of the daemons’ attacks, little life now remained in the city. The fields had been burned, the houses ransacked and looted, and the great temple that had drawn thousands of travelers on pilgrimages each year, reduced to little more than rubble.

The inhabitants who had not been killed in the initial onslaught had made their way up north to the capital, leaving you with little sleep as you attempted to keep up with the continuous waves of refugees seeking your help. You had only been able to do so much with the stock you had before your services had been turned elsewhere. While the high council had wanted to keep up the charade of its concern for its citizens, they had pulled you back to the frontlines after a few days to take care of the soldiers attempting to reclaim the nearby city. They had claimed Binna was not yet gone, but you saw through their words upon your arrival earlier that morning. The city was a lost cause and its soldiers losing heart.

You may have spent the entirety of your time in the infirmary since your arrival, but you had heard much about the current status of the battle from the soldiers you attended to. The daemon forces remaining in the city were larger than expected and rumors of one of the Seven leading the charge had flown swiftly through the tent. You had thought it had been nothing more than the feverish delusion of a man close to death the first time one of the Black Generals had been mentioned, but more and more sightings had been reported as the day went on. And as the rumors grew, the morale of the remaining forces sunk even further.

The thought of one of the Seven being nearby had sent a shiver of fear through you and it should have been a sign for you to stay close to the base that night. Whether or not it was true, you were still unsure, but the sightings had been too commonplace for it to be just a delusion of the soldiers. Their sightings should have served as a sharp warning for you to stay curled up in your cot and finally catch up on some sleep, but then you had overheard one of the generals. The city was going to be abandoned and they would be retreating back to the last two remaining free cities in the next few days. With one passing look at the list of soldiers unaccounted for, you knew you would have to put your fears and exhaustion aside. Black General or not, you couldn’t just let them abandon their own men. The very men were sacrificing their lives to keep the daemons at bay.

You had made the journey through battlefields and war-torn zones numerous times before, but tonight was different. You had never fully become comfortable with the act, knowing full well what might happen to you if you were caught by either side, but after two years, you had grown more accustomed with the act and learned how to cover your tracks as well as your identity. But the threat of a Black General put you on edge tonight, and you found your hand straying to the dagger at your hip at the slightest of sounds.

And yet, you were nearly an hour in and nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. The night was still and quiet, and you moved quickly from soldier to soldier, ushering a quick prayer to the bodies you stumbled upon too late. The rune Soomin had stitched into your cloak had proved successful this time around, and you were easily able to track the injured soldiers left for dead. The rune highlighting their auras in a soft, shimmering white, shining bright amongst the darkened streets.

You had started your nightly escapades nearly two years ago, shortly after the daemons had begun their onslaught against you once more, torn by the way the government and its leaders so swiftly ignored the requests to search for the missing soldiers. To them, a missing soldier was no different than a dead soldier, but something had struck you when you started recognizing names on the lists. The council may have said there was nothing they could do, but you knew saving them was well within your power. They might have said they didn’t have the time or resources to deal with the searches, but you did. And the reactions you saw from the soldiers and families when their missing friends and family returned made it worth the danger and lack of sleep.

Since then, the journeys continued any time you were sent to the frontlines, which occurred more often than your siblings cared for. While their services allowed them the safety of the city’s walls, your specialty in healing and potion work proved more useful outside of them. Unlike them, however, you didn’t mind. Your work kept you far from the actual battlefields and the soldiers had long treated you better than the majority of the people back home, making it easier to want to continue going out to save them. But what had started as an act to save more than the ones who made it back to the infirmary had changed the night you had first ran into a dying daemon.

Death had clung close to his body and he was so terribly afraid when he had called out to you, the look in his eyes a silent plea to not leave him to die all alone. You knew he was the enemy, but you couldn’t just leave him to die there either. Not when you had the ability to save him. He may have been a daemon, but you were familiar enough with the art of war to know this wasn’t a life he had chosen for himself anymore than you had chosen yours. So, instead of leaving him to die alone, you had used your dagger to slit your wrist and raised the blood that trickled out up to his lips with a soft promise to ease his pain.

Ever since then, you no longer distinguished between man and daemon, and rumors of a black angel haunting the battlefields at night had long begun to run rampant on each side. Even back in the capital you had heard whispers of your deeds spoken amongst the civilians. No longer did the soldiers greet your cloaked figure with fear and mistrust, but rather a welcome relief knowing they were no longer going to die in the night, knowing they had a guardian angel after all.

Your movements came to a halt when the sound of voices just up ahead broke your thoughts. Ducking into a nearby alleyway, you once again fondled the handle of the dagger at your hip as you peered past the corner of the building and into the street you had just been on.

There were two of them, the moonlight glittering against the curling horns upon their heads a clear sign of whose side they were on. Neither one appeared injured, but their movements were strange and hurried and you were quick to note the strain in their voices. They were anxious, but it was impossible to make out their rushed words at the distance you were currently at.

You paused, unsure of what to do. It was clear neither one was in current need of your services, their bodies would have been outlined in white if they were injured, but something was wrong. If they had been human you might have called out, but these were enemy soldiers. And with the threat of one of the Seven in the city, you decided it would be best if you crept back into the shadows behind you to observe them for the time being.

Despite knowing it was in your best interest to avoid them, this city was far from safe, your curiosity got the better of you, especially when you heard mention of yourself. It took a few seconds, but gradually you recognized the one with the white horns as someone you had healed earlier on in the night. As you cautiously crept closer, you were able to piece a few things together. They were searching for you, the lower rank daemon attempting to find you again by traveling to the spot he had last seen you.

“Are you the angel?”

In your distraction, you hadn’t noticed the third figure trailing you until it was too late and the sharp edge of his claws were pressed against your throat, cutting off the cry of surprise the action had pulled from you. In your countless journeys to the dead zones, you had seldom had to deal with situations such as this. The only occupants that haunted the battlefields at night were the dying and wounded, and despite your extra caution tonight, you hadn’t expected something like this to occur.

It was a struggle to control the wave of fear that filled you at his words, swallowing sharply as his claws dug further into your neck at your silence, drawing blood. The stance prevented you from turning around to face him, leaving you unsure of how to answer his question. You knew he was a daemon, the claws were a clear sign of that, but whether he was someone seeking your help or your demise was impossible to tell. And while you leaned towards the former, having no clear idea why either side would want you dead when you had saved so many on each side, you couldn’t shake the awful warnings Soomin had given you the past months.

“I am no angel.”

Despite your attempt to keep your voice steady, it still warbled as the claws dug their way into your skin. Your fingers clutched the hidden blade at your hip and you wondered whether you would be able to strike before he slit your throat. Would you be able to heal it before you bled out? And if not, what would Soomin think when you never returned home? Would she remain proud of all you had done or would she resent you for never listening to her fears and warnings? And then what would Hyunwoo think? How would he feel when the sister he had shared a womb with never came back?

“But if you are referring to the woman who heals the wounded at night, you need look no further.”

“Thank god.”

The pressure against your throat lifted and an audible sigh of relief was heard, signaling your reply had been the correct one. Your own followed swiftly after, free hand brushing against the blood clinging to your neck. With his claws now retracted, you were able to quickly close the wound up, leaving you wishing it was just as easy to patch the cloak he had torn in the process. If your elder sister didn’t kill you for your lack of caution, she would kill you for tearing the cloak she had just finished enchanting for you.

“I apologize for the aggressiveness in my approach, but I had to make sure.”

Despite the lax in his posture at your response, you kept up your defensive one as you took a few steps away, fingers still clasping your dagger as you turned to face him. You had known he was a daemon, but you couldn’t stop the second wave of fear from running through you as you took him in. His horns were a deep, glistening maroon, a sign he was not one of the Seven, but of a higher rank than the daemons you wandered across on your journeys. The fact he was not injured only added to your growing concern. You knew enough to defend yourself from some basic attacks, but this was a daemon. If it came down to a physical fight, he would win. There was no doubt about that.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you, but I promise no harm will come your way tonight.” Sensing your distrust, he raised each of his hands to show his claws had been retracted and he was not armed in any other way. “We need your help. My companion is injured with a wound far beyond our immediate care. If he doesn’t receive proper help soon, he’s going to die.”

You were silent at first, assessing him as you ran through the situation he presented. It very well could have been a trap, but the chances of that did seem low. If he wanted to kill or capture you, he could have done either before you had even known he was there. And based on his tone and stance, it seemed likely he was telling the truth. He was anxious, worried, and afraid. Whoever the injured party was, it was someone of grave importance to him. Enough so, he had scoured the city in the hope of finding you here.

And despite the part that screamed at you to disagree, that this was a terrible idea to follow, you couldn’t stop the other part of you that yearned to ease his anxiety and the pain of his friend. You could very well be walking yourself into a trap, but you knew you would carry the guilt of his friend’s life with you if you didn’t at least go with him to see.

“Take me to him.”

The relief on his face was instantaneous. “We were uncertain if you would show, but we still sent several scouts out in the hope that you would. Now that you have been found, the others will be returning to the base.” Raising a hand to his mouth, the streets were filled with a low, warbling whistle, signaling the others the search had been completed. “If you follow me, I will take you to him.”

You followed him through the streets, your earlier meandering pace picked up to a run in order to keep up with your guide. There was no need to be cautious anymore. No one would dare to bother you while you were with him. Whether it was for the best or the worst, you were being led straight to the daemon’s hidden encampment and you could only pray the daemon you were with had spoken the truth when he said no harm would come to you tonight.

His path led you towards the center of town, straight into the remains of the ruined temple. Sliding through the rubble, you made your way inside an inner section that was still standing. Multiple daemons wandered the area, returning now that their search for you had been concluded. You could feel their eyes on you as you followed your guide deeper inside, but you did your best to ignore them. While none of them felt aggressive, you struggled to keep your nerves under control. They might have held some leniency towards you for those you had saved, but what would they think when they realized you weren’t one of their own? One wrong move on your part and you had no doubt you wouldn’t be making it out of here alive. You had heard the rumors of how they treated your kind, after all.

You weren’t completely certain what would be meeting you upon your arrival, and had been preparing yourself for the possibility of running blindly into your own demise. While the thought of meeting one of the Seven there had crossed your mind, the last thing you had expected was the scene which awaited you when you reached your destination.

He sat up against the crumbling wall of the temple, eyes closed and head leaned back against the bricks behind him. The fire burning in the center of the room quickly exposed the black, curling horns protruding from his rumpled hair, an immediate giveaway to who he was.

You stopped short, eyes widening as you saw living proof of the soldier’s earlier rumors being true. A Black General had indeed been leading the front at Binna, and was now sitting just a few feet away from you.

He was different from the image you had always envisioned in your head, holding a younger appearance than you had expected, one closer to your own. He was also much more attractive, a thought that came rushing quickly and caused a wave of heat flooding through you. You had run across enough daemons in your lifetime to be well endowed with the unnatural beauty they held, and he was no exception; his features sharp and adorned with hair just as black as his horns.

His eyes snapped open at your appearance, but the hardness you had been expecting to find within them was not there when they saw your silent figure standing back within the shadows. Instead, there was nothing but a soft, welcoming relief.

“You found her.”

His voice was strained and you could hear the struggle in his breaths from across the room. Even with the distance between you, you could now see your guide had been speaking the truth. He may have been a Black General, but he was still flesh and blood like the rest of them. If you didn’t do something to help him, he wouldn’t survive the night.

But despite the state he was in, you held back, carefully observing him and the situation you had unknowingly walked into. You had no qualms against saving the daemon soldiers you stumbled upon at night, but this was different. This wasn’t just a daemon who may or may not have had any choice in fighting or the war, this was a Black General, a daemon of legend, those second in command only to the daemon king himself.

Ever since you were little, you had heard stories of the Black Generals, daemons of immense power and strength that nearly rivaled the king. Though the current Seven were different from the ones of the previous king, that didn’t make them any less dangerous than the ones before. Running into one of them was rumored to be akin to running into death, and few of those who came into contact with one of them lived to tell the tale. They carried their king’s orders out with pinpoint accuracy and a cruelty befitting the daemons.

You were well aware of how much death and destruction had come directly from his hands the past three years when the new king was crowned. Normal daemons were a force to be reckoned with for a human, but the Black Generals were something no normal mortal could hope to destroy. Bounties had long been set up for his and the others’ black horns in hope of leading to their deaths, because if they could get the Seven out of the way, the war might finally swing their direction once again. But years had gone by and no one had ever come back successful.

And here was one of them, right in front of you. Though it had been purely accidental, his life now hung in your hands. By refusing to help, you would strike a major blow against the daemon army, and though no one would know what you had done, you were still aware of the positive outcome that would bring the humans.

But, despite everything, you found yourself unable to do just that. As much as your head screamed at you to turn around. To forget this had ever happened. To let one of the daemons who had caused so much grief in your life to die, you couldn’t. You weren’t a killer. You never had been. You had been blessed with the ability to heal, an ability that allowed you to be a positive life in a world shadowed with death and destruction. Letting him die may have been the smart thing to do, but it went against who you were. And if you left now, you would never be able to shake the blood off your hands.

So, against your better judgment, you crept out of the shadows and cautiously approached him, doing your best to slow your pounding heart and steady your trembling hands.

“He was struck by a stray arrow in an earlier skirmish,” the daemon who had brought you here spoke once he saw your willingness to help, following you towards his general and pointing to the blood soaked bandages wrapped around his left shoulder. “We thought it was just a normal arrowhead, but the metal had shattered upon entering and we’ve been unable to stop the bleeding. We’ve tried to get the pieces out, but the action only further aggravates the wound, enough so that we’re afraid it’ll only kill him faster.”

You had a hard time holding back your surprise as he explained the injury. You may have never dealt with something like this before, but you were well acquainted with the effects of such an injury. Hyunwoo had been working on a prototype for something like this for months, and despite the circumstances of the situation, you knew he would be eager to learn that his newest creation held the power to take down one of the Black Generals.

Kneeling down next to him, you did your best to avoid his curious gaze as you pulled a flask from the pouch at your waist. Opening it up, you extended it towards him to drink. “This will help with the pain,” you spoke softly when you noticed his hesitation, turning away when the sound of your voice caused your eyes to lock for a split second.

“Have you ever seen an injury like this before?” The lesser daemon asked as he took the drink from your hands and helped the general drown the contents.

You shook your head, taking the action as permission to start unwrapping the bandages around his shoulder, trying your best to be as gentle as possible. “I’ve never had to deal with this specific injury before, but I am acquainted with the effects. The metal in the arrow has been welded with the intention to shatter upon impact and embedded with a rune for the pieces to seek out the heart. Trying to physically remove the shards only causes the process to quicken.”

“Can you heal it?”

You were silent at first, running through the situation in your head. The injury had progressed significantly, and you gave him little more than a few hours before he finally succumbed to his fate. If it wasn’t for the fact you were already familiar with the idea of the weapon and had already thought through ways of combating your brother’s creation, you doubted you would be able to do it in such a short time. But even then, it would be a close call. Despite coming up with a solid idea to combat the weapon, you had never had the chance to test out the idea you had come up with.

“Perhaps, but I’ll need help. I need to brew a potion that’ll dissolve the metal, but I don’t have the ingredients with me. Though before I ask if you might send someone to fetch them for me, I need to know if you managed to obtain any of the metal shards inside him.”

The idea of using a metal dissolving potion to destroy the pieces before they reached the heart was purely hypothetical, but it was all you had with such a short amount of time. The actual purpose of the potion was to dissolve an unwanted metal from an object, leaving only the desired substance behind. It had been created as a way to purify different materials and metals, but you hoped it might be able to purify the daemon’s body now. The idea only having come to you when you had accidentally spilled the potion on yourself a few weeks ago. But in order for it to work, a piece of the metal you wished to dissolve was required. Without it, the potion would be useless.

The daemon nodded, pointing to a bloody pile of metal next to his body. There were just a few pieces, but it was enough to make the potion.

“That’ll work.” You nodded, relieved you wouldn’t have to try and get the metal from his body yourself. “If I give you a list and directions, could you send someone out to get the ingredients for me? I believe the old apothecary shop should still have everything in stock. It’s just a few streets south of here.”

The daemon who brought you here nodded, and motioned for a nearby daemon to come over. Writing down the supplies you needed, you ran through each of them with him, making sure he was familiar with each one and giving sightclues to help him locate those he was unsure about or giving him alternatives in case he couldn’t find what you needed.

You turned back to the general once he was on his way. His body had relaxed as the potion you had given him earlier began to work its way through his system, but his eyes were closed once more. He was mumbling something under his breath, so softly you were unable to make out what he might have been saying. The words fell to a hush when he felt your hands brush against him once more and you were taken back by the golden eyes that met you when you accidentally met his gaze, sure that his eyes had been pitch black earlier. But then you blinked and the eyes meeting yours were black once again, leaving you believing it had been nothing more than a trick of the firelight behind you.

While you waited for the daemon to come back with your ingredients, you went to work healing what you could and slowing down the process of the shards as much as you could. Unlike the metal you were unfamiliar with, the poison that had coated the arrowhead to prevent the blood from coagulating was something you had dealt with numerous times before. In a few short minutes you had finally stopped the bleeding, though at the cost of depleting the supply of healing potions you had on you. If you were to heal the rest of his injuries, you would have to turn to your own blood when the time came.

“It seems the rumors about you are true. You are well versed in the art of healing.” His voice surprised you, and you were unable to keep yourself from flinching when he addressed you. You could see the slight struggle he still had with talking, but his breathing had begun to even out. “I’ve never met anyone with your particular set of skills before. Perhaps you truly are an angel as the rumors go.”

“The rumors are wrong. I’m no angel.”

You did your best to ignore his wandering gaze, clearly noting the way his eyes searched for any indication of who you might be. The clothing you wore kept your figure hidden, leaving your (e/c) eyes the only recognizable feature, but they still served as a clear sign of your lineage, the catlike slits a sign of the cursed blood that flowed through your veins.

It was clear he had made note of the appearance, his words a subtle key to the conclusion he had come to. And while he made no ill move towards you or showed any sign of aggression, it was clear in that moment he knew whose side of the war you were on. Otherwise, your identity would have been discovered by them long ago. Just like the humans, the daemons kept careful note of the soldiers amongst their ranks.

He cocked his head, a hint of a smile at the response he had pulled out of you. “Perhaps, but your actions speak otherwise. Only an angel would dare to bring a Black General from the brink of death.”

You remained silent, not quite trusting your words at the moment. It was hard to pinpoint his intentions, his voice and demeanor light, yet his words and gaze heavy.

“You have no need to worry.” His right arm raised towards your face, tugging your chin so that you were forced to meet his gaze. “Words of your deeds have gone far and wide amongst our ranks, even so far as the king himself. You are safe here.” The fire must have been playing with his eyes once more because you blinked and once again they appeared a startling gold. “For why would we ever want to destroy someone who has shown us great kindness?”

You were saved a response when the daemon you had sent out for supplies returned, causing the general to let you go. Having done all that you could for him at the moment, you stood back up and left him for the time being. His words shook you, an obvious statement that he knew you belonged to the enemies. Whether or not he knew your true identity, it was hard to tell, and you couldn’t help but wonder what consequences that revelation would hold.

But as much as it tore at you now, you knew it wasn’t something you could afford to worry about for the time being. Not with the situation you had allowed yourself to be dragged into. For now, you would just have to trust them when they said they would do you no harm and hope they would just let you go once it was over. If not for your own sake, but for both of your siblings. You could succumb to your own fate if it came by your own hand, but you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if they came to harm’s way from your own actions.

You did your best to shake his words away as you dug yourself back into your work. Running through the supplies you had been given, you were relieved to see he had retrieved everything you needed. All that was left was to brew the potion and pray it worked. They may have said you were safe here, but you didn’t imagine that would hold if the result of your actions killed him instead.

The daemons were silent as you worked, watching you with careful eyes as you sat next to the fire stirring the cauldron that had been brought for you. And though it was not the setting or the materials you were used to using, the act of brewing did help to calm you down. The act was familiar. It was comforting. And though the complicated recipe might have stressed you out when you were younger, you had become familiar with it and many others over the years to where the mere act of brewing it helped to relax you.

Taking the shattered pieces they had managed to obtain, you tossed them into the cauldron. With a few more stirs in the counterclockwise direction, the potion had reached a sparkling, silver color signifying it was now done. Reaching into your pouch for an empty vial, you scooped out a portion of the liquid, swirling it around a few times before allowing it to cool.

“My hope is that this will dissolve the remaining shards within you, but I’ve never dealt with an injury like this before.” With the potion now complete, you turned back to the general. “I believe it will work, but I cannot be certain. And if not, well, I am sorry.”

“Live or die, I promise that no harm will come your way. You have attempted what no one here could do and for that, I am thankful.” He bowed his head, golden eyes returning to black when he had raised it.

“I will also warn you that this will not be the most pleasant of experiences, but I will do my best to make it as painless as possible for you.”

With confirmation he was ready, you poured the liquid as carefully as you could with your shaking hands against his open wound. His body tensed as the liquid hit, and out of habit you reached for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain. The effects of the potion were harmless, but you remembered the way it had felt when you had spilled it on you, leaving the sharp, burning sensation of ice soaring through your veins as it worked its way through.

“Seonghwa!” The daemon who had guided you here called out upon seeing his reaction, but the general, Seonghwa as you learned, shook his head, mumbling that he was just fine.

You held your breath, praying that the silver lining his body would begin to lighten, signaling that it was working. To your relief, his body began to relax after the first few minutes, heart rate and breathing finally evening out. While the hint of white remained from the wound of the arrow, it was clear the threat the metal had posed had passed. The potion had been a success. Against all odds, you had done it and he had escaped the grasp of death for the night.

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he took a deep breath, opening his eyes as he rolled out the shoulder that had given him so much pain. The stress in his shoulders and face had lightened significantly, leaving a relaxed, carefree air.

“Careful,” you warned, suddenly realizing his hand was still clasped in yours and dropping it with as much subtlety as you could manage. “You may be in the clear now, but your shoulder is still injured. I still need to finish healing it for you.”

Having run out of the healing potions you had on you, you were left with little choice but to use your blood. Unknownst to the humans who believed you to not have a daemon ability like your sister, the success of the health potions you brewed came not from the potion, but your blood. Your ability lay not in outward talents, but in the blood that flowed through your veins, capable of healing almost any injury you came across. And while you kept it hidden to keep yourself safe, you were less cautious when it came to the daemons. As creatures who could consume blood just as much as food for sustenance, it was less foreign for them to drink it straight than it was for the humans who would probably panic if they knew just what they were consuming.

Pulling the sleeve of your left arm up, you grabbed the dagger at your side. Before any of the daemons could stop you, you quickly slashed at your own wrist.

“Here.” You raised your wrist towards his mouth, signaling for him to drink. “I know it may be strange, but my ability lies within my blood itself. The potions I use for healing only work because of the blood they contain. Normally, I would give you one of those to heal the rest of your wounds, but I’ve run out.”

“And you claim you’re not an angel.”

There was a playfulness in his tone as he spoke, though his eyes locked on to the blood you presented him. And despite the low light in the room, you were certain he took notice of the color, another clear sign of your lineage. But if he did, he made no sign of it, instead grasping hold of the wrist you offered. You could see the glint of the fangs that had protruded as he raised it up to his mouth, taking in a deep breath.

You couldn’t help but flinch as his mouth came into contact with your wrist. While he was not the first daemon you had offered your blood to in this manner, it felt much more intimate than any of the others had. And the blood glinting off his fangs as he smiled at you after drinking his full left you shivering as you tugged your wrist back towards you. You immediately dropped your gaze to his shoulder, taking note of the way the wound was beginning to close as you wiped the remainder of the blood on your wrist against your leg once you had healed your own wound.

“That should be the last of your injuries then,” your voice shook slightly as you spoke, well aware of the eyes that seemed to bore into your figure. “Though I can only do so much, and it would be in your best interest to allow yourself some time to rest. You lost quite a bit of blood.”

A hand raised to your face, cupping your cheek and forcing your gaze to meet his once more, and you were surprised by the warmth that filled them. And though the cloth that covered the lower half of your face acted as a barrier between his touch, you couldn’t suppress another shiver that coursed through you at the action.

“Leave us.”

His words were directed to the other daemons in the room, and despite their curiosity at the events that had occurred, they left without a single complaint. Their presence may have unnerved you before, but you suddenly wished for them to come back. The fact you were now alone with one of the Seven hung heavy in the air and on your chest. You might have held his life in your hands before, but now that he had regained his strength, it was the opposite. How you got out of this situation was entirely up to him.

“I was certain I would not survive the night and did my best to not put too much hope towards you. For even if they did find you, I had little hope you would willingly help me. I had forced myself to come to terms with my own death, and yet, against all odds, you saved my life. This kindness shall not be forgotten or unrewarded.” His voice was low, and the hand at your face had only seemed to cling closer to your body. “And though I know I have already asked much of you tonight, would you grant me one last request before you go?” The fingers at your face crept higher, fingering the cloth that hid the lower half of your face. “I would very much like to see the face of the woman who saved my life.”

You couldn’t stop the audible gasp the request caused, and it echoed across the empty room. A bundle of nerves struck your chest at the idea of having your identity known and your heart started to race once more. Your hand quickly flew to his own, covering it and preventing him from pulling the cloth any further when you noticed he had begun to tug at it.

“Please,” he frowned at your response, a hint of desperation coating the word. “How can we repay you for the kindness you have shown us if you don’t tell us who you are? We can’t keep you safe from what’s to come unless we know who you are.”

“I…”

You found it hard to respond, his words holding a hint of a threat that added to the nerves of your current status. What’s to come? What did that mean? And why did he phrase it in such a way that made it seem like they would be the ones to win the war.

“You wish to thank me, but I do not need your gratitude or your help. I never did any of this with the intent of being rewarded. I just wanted to bring some light back into this harsh world,” you finally spoke, swallowing thickly. It was hard to tell what made you more nervous; the threat of his words or him seeing your face. He claimed they would keep you safe, but would that truth still hold when he realized you weren’t exactly who he had made you out to be. “I never asked to be heralded as an angel, but perhaps it is best I remain as such. The harsh truth of reality can often be disappointing, and sometimes things are better off left to the imagination.”

You got up to leave, hoping the words would be enough to convince him to leave the matter be, but the movement only left you running into his chest when you had turned to do just that. The action left you startled, eyes quickly glancing back to the ground where he had just been sitting only to find it empty. The surprise sent you stumbling backward, shocked by how swiftly he had switched places, but his hands grabbed your shoulders and halted your movements.

He was taller than you, your eyes barely reaching his chin and forcing you to tilt your head upwards in order to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you leave until I find out who you are.” His right hand rose to your face once more, and though you wished to stop him, you knew there was no point in fighting it. In the end, the outcome would be the same. You were no match for him. “Those are the orders given to me by my king and I have no intention of disobeying when I too am anxious to see the face behind the mask. You have no idea how long we’ve been looking for you, after all.”

Sensing your general compliance, he first knocked back the hood that kept you (h/c) hair at bay and cast the upper half of your face in shadows before tugging down the mask that kept the rest of your face hidden away.

It was hard to read his expression, black eyes wandering across your now exposed features. After a few seconds, he raised his hand towards the top of your head, searching for the horns that would have been there if you had been the full daemon he had been expecting.

“You’re…”

“Only half-daemon” you finished, eyes downcasting as you pulled away from him.

“…beautiful.”

The statement left you shocked, head cocking to the side certain you had just misheard him. Had he really just called you beautiful?

It wasn’t just the statement that caught you so off guard, but the person who had said it. You had daemon’s blood flowing through your veins after all, and the beauty they held showed in your own features. But all you had ever heard about the daemons was their distaste towards those not pure of blood. That was why they viewed the humans so lowly, because they didn’t have the old magic flowing through their veins. Because they were fragile and weak. To mix the blood of a daemon with a mortal human was taboo, even for humans, and as a result, you were frowned upon on both sides. To humans, you were a reminder of the creatures they had always feared. To daemons, you were something unclean. An impure creature not fit to stand in the ranks of their own. Your blood had been defiled, and so in turn, were you. And yet, here you were, standing before a Black General, the second highest ranking official in their government, and he had just called you beautiful without a hint of disgust in his tone.

“I always knew you would be, but it is something else to finally see the face behind the mask.” His hand fell from the top of your head, once again finding its way against your cheek and brushing back your hair to see the pointed tips of your ears. “You lied when you said you weren’t an angel. For how could anyone as kind and divine as you be anything else?” His hands were gentle as they traced along the features of your face, and you were starting to feel certain he had hit his head in his earlier fight. He wasn’t making any sense; his reaction to your appearance was the exact opposite of what you had been expecting. “My king, what shall we do with her? Now that we finally have her, we cannot let something so precious to us just slip away in the night.”

Your eyes quickly scanned the room, terrified by his words and expecting to find the one daemon that filled you with more fear than the one currently before you. But the room around you was empty, and no audible response was given to his question.

“I see.” His head tilted, disappointment crossing his features for a moment, but was quickly replaced with something more akin to excitement. But to what these emotions or words could have been a response to, you had no idea. You were certain the two of you were alone here, sure that you would have felt the presence of another being of such power, but he acted in such a way that almost convinced you, you weren’t. “It would be an honor to be a vessel for such an act.”

The hand tracing your jaw dropped down towards your neck, brushing back the hair that had covered it. You didn’t know what was happening, but you didn’t want to stick around and find out either. Struck with the sudden urge to be as far away as possible from the man before you, you bolted for the exit without a second thought of how it might negatively affect you.

You made it only a few feet. One second the exit was as good as yours, and the next, blocked by his figure. You stumbled to a stop, eyes wide as you tried to figure out how he had gotten there before you. You knew daemons were fast, but there was no way they were that fast. Unless your eyes were mistaking you - which they seemed to be doing a lot this night - it had seemed as though he had simply appeared out of thin air.

He chuckled at your reaction, eyes once again that startling gold. In a blink of an eye, he vanished again, but before you could even think about making another run for the exit, he was behind you with a hand wrapped around your throat to keep you in place.

“There’s no need to be afraid, angel.” His words were a breath against the side of your neck. “You’ve done so much for us, let your king now return the favor.”

His lips grazed against your neck, and you could feel the chuckle reverberating through his chest behind you when he felt how fast your heart was beating. The hand at your throat tightened its hold, titling your head to the side to allow him easier access. And before you could usher any other attempt to stop him, you felt the sharp sting of fangs biting down and sealing your fate.

#ateez x reader #ateez #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #jongho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fantasy au

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captainswanapproved · 2 years ago

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The Queen's Gambit-Chapter 11

A03, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

A/N: We've reached the end. Thank you for reading this story!

Daemon x Rhaenyra Multi Chapter AU: Rhaenyra is now 18 and eager to prove herself. Having never been forced to marry Rhea Royce, Daemon has matured and given up his gallivanting through the Street of Silk. Queen Aemma survives her final birth but the baby does not.

Queen Aemma knows of Daemon’s devotion to Rhaenyra. She also knows that this devotion is not unrequited. Aemma goes to Viserys with a proposition: one that will ensure the future and legacy of House Targaryen.

The execution of Otto Hightower was the first in a succession of significant changes in the Red Keep. Daemon took his position as Hand of the King, and Rhaenyra was welcomed into an official position on the Small Council.

Both Daemon and Rhaenyra showed an aptitude for playing politics that ranged from the strategic maintenance of their hold over the Stepstones, improvements to the city, and strengthening ties between the Crown and the Lords Paramount of Westeros.

After two moons, Viserys confessed to his queen that he was surprised by them both in equal measure. Aemma said, with no small amount of triumph, “I always knew they were capable of greatness. I only wish you had allowed them the chance sooner.”

“As do I,” Viserys admitted. “I allowed Otto Hightower to poison me for too long. I am surprised that they forgave me so quickly. It speaks to their great love and loyalty to our House. I only wish I could have given them the same.”

“We are none of us perfect, Your Grace,” Aemma soothed. “All you can do now is make amends for past wrongs and celebrate their successes.”

Viserys nodded. “Tell me true, Aemma, do you think Rhaenyra is truly happy? New love is fleeting. Their joy may not last forever.”

“Their love is not new. It has survived many trials and months of separation at a time. They will have their quarrels to be sure. They are dragons, made of fire, and this will surely result in nasty conflagrations once in a while. But they are devoted, and our beloved Rhaenyra is glowing. Have you not noticed?”

He had. Viserys did not like to dwell upon what went on in his daughter’s private chambers, but he was certain he would be a grandsire before too long.

***

“It is true, Princess,” the maester confirmed. “You are with child. Three months along, I wager.”

Three months. That would mean she had conceived a child in her early couplings with Daemon. The thought only made those nights on Dragonstone more dear.

“Thank you, Maester,” Rhaenyra said, clasping his gnarled hand.

“We will summon the very best midwives from Essos and Westeros for your delivery, Princess. I fear our holy order may have been ill equipped for royal births. We will take more care in future.”

Rhaenyra appreciated the sentiment. It was not often that a maester owned their shortcomings.

She sent the maester away, only to wander to the balcony. Daemon was touring the city today, meeting with the merchants and innkeepers to assess their needs. King Jaehaerys believed that it was best for the smallfolk to see their current and future rulers often. Viserys had not often followed the old king’s example. But Daemon declared it would solidify the crown’s influence. The love of the smallfolk would be important when Rhaenyra eventually took the crown.

He truly was a Prince of the People, though Rhaenyra knew that the brothels had lost her husband’s patronage, for which she was grateful.

***

It was not until late afternoon that Daemon returned to their chambers to find Rhaenyra sleeping peacefully. It was unusual for Rhaenyra to nap at such an hour, though she had started the habit nearly three weeks ago, indulging herself almost daily.

Perhaps he was imagining it, but Rhaenyra’s breasts seemed a bit larger, and her abdomen was rounding as well, ever so slightly. The thought of fatherhood had once been detestable, but now Daemon was eager for the arrival of his first babe, and hoped that Rhaenyra would become pregnant by year’s end.

Daemon was unaware that the gods had heard his silent prayers. He sat beside his wife and kissed her forehead. She stirred. Gods she was beautiful. Daemon had been longing for her touch all day, having left at first light. At last she opened her eyes, her lips curving into a smile at the sight of him.

“I am glad you are home, love,” she said. “We missed you.”

For a moment, Daemon did not understand her strange greeting. “We?”

Rhaenyra took his hand and pressed it to her abdomen. “Yes, my love. We missed you. The maester confirmed it this morning. Soon we shall have a little prince or princess.”

Daemon took Rhaenyra in his arms and kissed her deeply. He felt tears threaten to spill, but knew his beloved would not think him weak for such a showing of emotion.

When they pulled apart, Rhaenyra was crying as well. “Am I to expect such a reaction whenever I am with child? If so, I will happily follow the example of Queen Alysanne and birth thirteen little dragons.”

In answer, Daemon kissed her, and spent the next two hours worshipping every inch of her body. Privately, he hoped to outdo his grandmother. Fourteen or fifteen children with Rhaenyra seemed a worthy goal.

***

Rhaenyra experienced the first signs of labor in the middle of a stormy night. The veritable army of nurses and midwives were summoned to her chambers, as well as Queen Aemma, who had long ago vowed to be at her daughter’s side for every moment of labor.

Unbeknownst to the queen, Daemon had made a similar vow, though it flew in the face of tradition.

So it was that Daemon sat to her right, while Aemma sat Rhaenyra’s left.

Rhaenyra faced the perils of the birthing bed with unflinching strength and courage. Sweat beaded upon her pale brow. Her screams rivalled the booming thunder, and at one point, she called one of the midwives a cunt.

Daemon kissed her hand after the insult, while Aemma merely shook her head in mock disapproval.

After nearly twenty four hours, Rhaenyra gave birth to a lusty, pink, baby boy. The little prince uttered his first cry as one of the midwives cleaned him off before presenting him to his proud parents.

“He is beautiful,” Aemma declared, “just as you were, my love.”

The babe had wisps of silver hair and large, lovely, lilac eyes. He was a true Targaryen.

“What will you name him?”

Daemon and Rhaenyra exchanged a look, before saying at the same time, “Aemon.”

Tears gathered in Aemma’s eyes.

Rhaenyra presented her son to his namesake. “We wanted to honor you, Mother, for without your help, Daemon and I may have never married.”

Daemon smiled at his good-sister. “Thank you for your faith, My Queen.”

Aemma’s heart was like to burst with the love she felt for her daughter, good-brother, and grandson.

Her gambit had proved to be a masterful success.

#daemon x rhaenyra #daemyra #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd the queen's gambit #my writing #all hail queen aemma #captain of the daemyra ship #yay I actually finished a multichapter story

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ezraspiderwick · 2 years ago

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Faceless Savior

This is the story about a boy and about the man he would grow to become and the events that led him there, starting with the attack that took place in the little village he used to call home...

Pairing (friendship): kid!Din & kid!OFC

Word count: 6.3k

Warnings: His Dark Materials AU (but no need to know anything about HDM though), Din has a daemon, angst, non-graphic violence, wordbuilding, bullying, fighting, original characters, the Mandalorian who saved Din has a name

A/N: Been working on this one for over a month, so this story became very dear to my heart, I hope you enjoy it! Thanks to the amazing, the wonderful, the incredible @littlemisspascal for encouraging me to write this and for giving me motivation throughout the process and for beta reading, love you Rae!

MASTERLIST

DUST AND DAEMONS MASTERLIST

This is the story about a boy and about the man he would grow to become and the events that led him there, starting with the attack that took place in the little village he used to call home. Depending on who you ask, the attack on Aq Vetina was unexpected for some, inevitable for others. Aq Vetina was an isolated town rich in copper, built on the coast of a small island on the outskirts of the continent, cut off from any communications with the outside world except for a weekly boat that brought in provisions from the mainland and took the copper away. It was the ideal scenario for an attack.

A group of thirty well-armed men and women sat in the forest waiting for nightfall to make their way into the town. Lives weren’t important to them, the only thing they wanted was to take over the place, not caring at all about the people who crossed their path. As a result, when the attack started, blood was quick to stain their clothes, the red spots growing wider as they made their way into the town center. Upon seeing the massacre on the street, the boy’s parents knew it was only a matter of time until their turn came, but perhaps before that happened they could get their precious little boy to safety.

The boy’s parents rushed to his room where he was sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the life-changing event that was taking place outside, his daemon snuggled against him as a cat. The two adults allowed themselves a second to commit this moment to memory, the peaceful image of their kid, who they loved dearly, would give them strength for what they were going to face in the next hour. However, time was running out, so his mom knelt next to him and shook his shoulder gently, doing her best to keep the fear out of her voice as she called his name. The woman’s daemon, a raccoon, mirrored his human’s actions, bopping his nose gently against the sleeping daemon. When the boy blinked his brown eyes open, she informed him they had to leave, that there was not a minute to be wasted.

The man, holding the hands of the still half-asleep boy, ran out of the house. The kid’s brain was trying to make sense of the destruction around him, but it was having a hard time doing so. He thought violence like this only belonged in stories, not real life. His daemon, having changed into the form of a mouse, was safely tucked into his jacket and between the chaos, she murmured encouragements to her human even if she herself was terrified. A rock laying on the floor caused him to stumble and almost fall, however, his father caught him in time, lifting his son up and keeping him in his arms.

The little town had changed from a peaceful sanctuary into a warzone. The places where the boy had chased frogs alongside his friends were now covered in the blood of neighbors, family, and friends. He didn’t know why all of this was happening, but deep down he must have known that things would never be the same, the life he knew and loved was over in spite of him not being ready for that. Even decades later, this moment in his life would seep its way into his nightmares, making him mourn a place that no longer existed over and over again.

The family ran to a small cellar that served as a storage room for the town’s supplies. While the parents wanted nothing more than to stay with their kid, they also felt a sense of duty to defend their home, so after some hastily said goodbyes and some hugs that didn’t last nearly enough, he was ushered inside. “Din, Cornelia, you keep each other safe until we come back, okay?” The boy nodded and so did his daemon who was already changing into a bigger animal, one that could protect them both, never had they been more grateful at the fact that kids’ daemons, unlike adult ones, could change forms.

That night, in a moist underground basement, a boy sat against a polar bear, shivering from cold and from fear, hoping to see his parents soon, a hope that would completely disappear by morning.

“We’ll be okay,” Cornelia whispered to him but through their bond Din could sense she was unsure. A nearby explosion shook the ground underneath them and the boy hugged the bear tighter and a whimper escaped his lips. “We have to be quiet,” she reminded him and nuzzled her face against his in an effort to drown his cries.

“There’s someone here.” A male voice outside the basement’s door startled Din, making him bury himself further into Cornelia’s white coat, a snarl appearing on the daemon’s face. The overhead door opened a few seconds later, making the two of them blink against the sudden brightness, revealing not a mercenary but a Mandalorian. The boy’s jaw dropped open and for a moment all his emotions were replaced with awe. It was every kid’s dream to meet a Mandalorian, and only a few of them were lucky enough to accomplish it.

The Mandalorians were the Magisterium’s elite soldiers, dedicating not only their whole lives but their whole identities to upholding the organization’s rules. But to the eyes of the kids that admired them, they were superheroes, covered in armor so strong most weapons couldn’t even make a dent. They were men strong enough to face anyone that opposed them. So it was no surprise Din felt safe when the familiar helmet showed up in front of him, they were going to be okay.

The Mandalorian knelt down and extended his hand in Din’s direction. “C’mon son, let’s get you out of there.” The boy stood up on Cornelia’s back, reaching the hand easily thanks to the polar bear’s height, and was soon lifted up. The daemon changed into a small bird to get out of the basement and landed on Din’s shoulder, eyeing the Mandalorian’s dog daemon, trying to figure out whether they should place their trust in them. Din, on the other hand, was not paying attention to any of that, mesmerized by the armor in front of him, imagining what it would be like to have his own. “Son, were you alone in there?”

Din nodded. “My parents said they’d come back but they haven’t yet.” The sentence was said with an innocence only a child could have and the next question was said with the hope of someone who hadn’t known suffering. “Have you seen them?”

The Mandalorian looked away and Din’s heart clenched in his chest. In the few years, he had been on earth he had discovered that an adult looking away after a child’s question could only mean they were trying to figure out the best way to explain a difficult situation. “They aren’t coming, are they?”

The man looked visibly relieved at the kid giving him an easy way out. There was no explaining that he was the only survivor in the entire village, there was no asking further questions about his parents so he could promise he’d look for them, fueling false hope along the way, the only thing he had to do was shake his head. “We’ll take you with us, you won’t be alone.” He patted Din’s arm, not really sure how to comfort someone after such news, choosing the path of distraction instead. “What’s your name?”

“Din Djarin,” the boy answered in what could only be described as shock. His brain was still trying to process the attack, the lonely night, the fear, so it had yet to make sense of his parents’ deaths.

“Well Din Djarin, I’m Xisus Crinor and you’re officially under the Mandalorians’ protection. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His voice was softer, almost a whisper. “I promise.”

On the way to the boat that would take the child to his new home, the Mandalorian tried to shield him from seeing the remnants of the fight. However, it turned out to be an impossible task as the destruction was all around them. The images of burned houses and corpses were going to be seared into his mind for the rest of his life.

Arriving at the boat, Xisus made some quick introductions between the child and the mandalorians there before he guided Din to a place he could sit. He placed a blanket around his shoulders, gave him some water, and promised to be back soon. “I just need you to be brave for a little longer okay?” The child nodded, prompting Xisus to ruffle his hair. “Good boy.”

Din couldn’t be sure of the amount of time that had passed between him arriving on the boat and it sailing away from the place he called home. There were too many emotions inside him and picking them one by one to examine would require energy he didn’t have. So he settled for looking into the sea, wondering what kind of life lay behind it for him. Much to his relief, Xisus came back and sat next to him, encouraging him to lay down on the seat and get some sleep. And so he did, closing his eyes and letting the rocking of the boat drive him to sleep.

And so Din missed the conversation between the man who saved him and another Mandalorian. He didn’t hear that he would make a good addition to the fighting corps, not every kid’s daemon having the ability to turn into an animal as powerful as a bear. He was a little older than they would have liked, but they were hopeful he could learn the way of the mandalorians to one day become one, Xisus promising to guide him along the way.

The boy and his daemon woke up as the boat came to a full stop, opening his eyes he saw Xisus motioning for him to follow him. “Let’s go son, I’ll show you our home.” Although, the man said that with the best intentions, the word felt like a punch to the boy’s gut. Was replacing Aq Vetina, his parents, and friends as simple as this? Could this new place truly become his home? Even with all the questions going around his head, he got up and followed the Mandalorian into the compound.

The place was a collection of buildings that served as homes and training grounds for the soldiers, the Magisterium having spared no expenses when building it. After all, a happy army was an army that kept them in power. Inside the hallways, there were two different groups of people, the ones that wore armor and the ones that didn’t. The first type had a higher rank than the second one as they were giving orders. And among the numerous conversations taking place, there was a set of words repeated numerous times both as greetings and goodbyes.

This is the Way.

The words seemed to be floating everywhere, ready for any person to pick them up and use them at a moment’s notice. However, Din couldn’t distinguish whether they were said as a reminder to the person they were talking to or to themselves. And he didn’t have time to figure it out as he was taken to a room filled with rows of beds with groups of children and teenagers spread throughout the space.

Xisus signaled one of the older boys to approach them, his bird daemon was perched on his shoulder, her eye trained on the newcomers. “Caed this is Din, please show him to a bed.” The man spoke in a gentle yet commanding voice leaving no room for arguments or questions.

“Of course, sir.”

The Mandalorian turned to Din. “Caed here will show you around, okay? I’ll be back soon.” The man did not wait for an answer, being long gone by the time Din processed what was happening. The older boy, Caed, motioned for Din to follow him. As soon as they stepped inside the room everyone’s eyes turned to the pair, the loud conversations turning into whispers. The boy pointed him to a bed at the very back of the room, right beside a wall.

“That one is yours for now. Just because Xisus saved you doesn’t make you a Mandalorian.” He looked him up and down, a disgusted look appearing on his face. “If you think you can become one of us you should think again.” He turned around leaving Din sitting on the bed in despair. Before he had felt some sort of relief at coming here, but he now wanted to be any other place. As his tired brain caught up with the events that had taken place in the last 24 hours, tears filled his eyes no matter how much he tried to stop them from doing so.

Being busy trying to control his emotions and put his inner world in order meant he was oblivious to his surroundings, causing him to jump when a hand was placed on top of his. To his right sat a girl a couple of years older than him, a kind expression on her face. She had brown skin and her brown eyes resembled his own, although unlike him, her hair was long, weaved into multiple braids.

“I’m Theana,” she said as a monkey climbed onto her shoulder, “and this is Midivour.”

Cornelia, having changed into a cat, took a step forward and sniffed the air in Midivour’s direction. The monkey climbed down, moved in front of the other daemon, and extended his hand towards her. The cat bumped her head against his hand, and the two of them stared at each other for a second longer before settling down side by side. His daemon had always been a good judge of character, so even if everything else was uncertain, Din knew he could trust the girl and her daemon. “I’m Din and this is Cornelia.”

“Well, Din, Cornelia,” she gifted them with another smile before continuing, “welcome to the foundlings' room.”

“What’s a foundling?” He had a faint memory of having heard the word before but as much as he tried recalling where it had been, the memories didn’t come.

“We are.” The cheerful expression that had been on her face mere seconds ago was replaced by a somber look. “Foundlings are kids without parents the Mandalorians brought in.”

“So no one here has parents?” Theana shook her head, making Din wonder if everyone’s villages had been attacked and if all the children around them hid while muttering prayers to a god their grandparents told them about. He wondered if they felt empty and sad like him or if those feelings went away with time.

“Hey,” she said, bringing him out of his thoughts, “you’ll be okay, I promise. Just stay away from Caed and his group and you’re gonna be fine.” The girl pointed to the older kid who had interacted with him before. “He thinks he’s better than everyone because his parents were Mandalorians. But he isn’t, he is just like us.” She squeezed his hand and put her smile back on. “You’ll be okay.”

That night when the lights went out Din hugged Cornelia and whispered under the covers for her ears only, “I think we’re going to be okay.”

As the days passed the boy settled into a routine in his new life. He learned the history and the rules the Mandalorians lived by, and in doing so he discovered that the stories he had known about weren’t that accurate. The battles weren’t as magnificent as in the stories but they had fought way more than the kids in his village knew about.

Those stories were told to him by Xisus during their one-on-one training sessions, the man doing his best to help Din gather enough skills so he could join the fighting class with the rest of the foundlings. The first few weeks were spent on self-defense, teaching the child how to dodge attacks and some basic punches he could use in case he ever found himself in trouble. Then they moved on to more complicated moves that Din and Cornelia were quick to learn, prompting the man to be vocal about how proud he was of them, resulting in Caed building resentment against the little boy.

Between teaching Din about Mandalorian history, the battles they won and the ones they lost, and what it meant to live as one of the elite Magisterium’s soldiers, every once in a while Xisus would bring the kid a treat. The boy would put half of it in his pocket so he could share it with Theana, knowing the Mandalorian who rescued her wasn’t remotely interested in spending time or energy on her, much less in bringing her sweets or other special things. When Xisus noticed him putting half of the treat away, he didn’t ask any questions, but instead he started bringing two so that the boy could enjoy all of it without having to worry about saving it for later or for someone else.

The thing Din was most grateful about was that Xisus would ask questions about his past. “It’s important that you remember the place you come from Din. You might be a foundling now but a part of you will always belong to Aq Vetina and to your people and that’s how it’s meant to be.” He’d encouraged him to talk about his parents and while it hurt almost too much to think about them the first few months, over time the boy found himself smiling whenever he talked about how some weekends he’d help his dad fix spaceships and his mother would take his backpack from him while they walked home.

While his bond with Xisus evolved, his bond with Theana did too. The girl adopted him as a younger brother, teaching him how to handle the ropes of the place, who to avoid and who to seek for help, the rules that could be broken, and the rules that could only be bent. To the rest of the world, Theana was quiet and introspective, preferring to be alone, but she allowed Din in her inner world, and for that, he would always be grateful. In a place cluttered with rigid rules, Din might not have realized it then but his new friend was a breath of fresh air.

As the days passed, Din was finally able to join training with the rest of the foundlings, the kids would have the freedom to choose whether to remain in the Mandalorian path or not when they were older but until then they would be trained as one. Which meant early mornings filled with Magisterium teachings, and then evenings charged with physical training. On the first day the boy joined, he found a key difference he had ignored until then regarding Mandalorians.

After lunch, the group split into boys and girls. Din was confused by this so he tried to make his way to Theana in order to ask her what was going on. But before he could a hand was placed on his chest stopping him, looking up he found it belonged to a smug smiling Caed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing.” Din tried to shake the boy’s hand from his chest but Caed wouldn’t give up.

“Do you want your girlfriend to come and save you?” Caed’s mocking tone sent a wave of rage through Theana’s body, the girl took a step toward the two boys, ready to act if necessary. He pushed and Din stumbled backward but managed to steady himself. While Din remembered Xisus’ teachings he also knew he should only use them if he was sure he wanted to hurt someone. And he wasn’t. “Don’t you know girls don’t train dumbass?” He pushed him again prompting him to fall to the floor.

In a second Theana was between them, facing Caed and shielding Din with her body. Cornelia sprinted into action too, turning into a wolf, and growling at Caed’s dog. Midivour mirrored her actions and stood next to them ready to fight. “Came to protect your little boyfriend?”

“Do you enjoy fighting with people who are smaller than you?” She took a step forward and pushed him but Caed was strong and he didn’t move or flinch.

“Should have known that’s the best you could do, after all, you’re a girl.” Everything happened quickly, Caed didn’t even have time to react as Theana’s fist hit his nose and sent him flying to the floor, his daemon backing down too as the pain got to her through her bond with the boy.

“A girl who just knocked you on your ass,” she whispered under her breath and knelt next to Din to make sure he was alright. The rest of the kids were staring at them, most of them with admiration written on their faces, having wanted to do that to him for a long time. “We need to leave now Din, we don’t want to be here when the teacher shows up.” Din nodded and stood up with Theana’s help, still a little dizzy from the fall.

The boy followed his friend through the building’s multiple hallways until they found a small opening on a fence that led outside. Once there, they went to a secluded garden, that might have been planned to be part of the compound at some point but it had been long forgotten, the plants were overgrown, having reclaimed the benches and the statue in the center of it and they sat against a tree while their daemons explored the surroundings.

After a couple of minutes in silence during which Din’s expression became more and more worried, Theana finally spoke. “What’s going on in there?” She playfully tapped his forehead.

“He’ll tell on us,” the boy’s voice was barely a whisper as he tried to fight back the tears that threatened to come out.

“He won’t.” There was no hesitation in her voice.

“How can you be sure?”

“Do you think Caed will tell someone he was beaten by a girl and a younger boy?” Theana was gracious enough to include him even though all he had done was lay on the floor while she fought for the two of them.

“What about the rest?”

“Most of them are happy he was punched and the remaining few won’t do it out of fear of what he’d do to them.” She stood up and offered him her hand. “Now go to the training session, they’re going to get suspicious if you don’t show up.”

“I’m sorry you can’t come.”

“Doesn’t matter, I already know how to fight,” she smirked and climbed on a bench, opening her arms and spinning around.

“Aren’t you going to go to your classes?”

“I don’t care about what they think a girl should learn. Sewing and cooking are not what I want to do.” She jumped off the bench. “Go. I’ll see you tonight.”

The girl stayed in her favorite part of their small world and enjoyed nature while the boy went to training, making it a point to avoid Caed and his group. At night, when he returned he taught Theana every single thing he had learned, vowing to share all the knowledge he acquired with her. Although she wasn’t sure at first, this became their little routine, while the rest of the kids went out to dinner, they’d have a training session, sneaking into the abandoned garden. And so Din taught his friend how to be a Mandalorian even if it was against the code. She was strong, intelligent, and caring, she deserved to be one.

“When Midivour settles you can show them your abilities, they’ll be so surprised they’ll give you a helmet. And then both of us will be Mandalorians,” Din said one night after training was done. The girl didn’t have the heart to tell him that would never happen so instead she put on her best smile and much to Din’s happiness she nodded in agreement.

The day that Xisus died in battle was the day that would reaffirm Din’s decision to become a Mandalorian. But before that happened he found himself with immense grief, just like the day his parents had died, grief no child should carry once let alone twice. When the news made its way across the compound Din hid in the only place he could truly call his, the abandoned garden, making it clear to Theana that he wanted to be alone. The girl respected his wishes and stayed behind, feeling grateful that the Mandalorian who saved her never cared about her, she couldn’t bear gaining another father just to lose him.

Din wasn’t sure what to feel, feeling sad about losing Xisus felt like a betrayal to his parents, even if it hurt the same. Was he allowed to feel this way? Was he allowed to grieve for a man that was not blood-related as if he had been? Maybe that’s why Mandalorians used helmets, perhaps it was impossible to hide your emotions from yourself but you could keep others from seeing them. At that moment Din longed for a helmet to cower behind.

“It’s okay Din.” Cornelia had changed into a polar bear again, her usual animal for when he needed comfort. The child buried himself into her fur and wept, crying for the man he had just lost, crying for his parents who he still missed, and for the peaceful life he once had. “We’ll be okay, I promise.”

The funeral took place in the afternoon, there were no heartfelt speeches or goodbye songs, just a military salute as the casket was presented. And then towards the end, there was the helmet pass-down ceremony and Din was called to the front. Theana, sitting next to him, nudged him as he stayed frozen in his seat. “You need to get the helmet Din, he left it for you.” Din stood, shaky legs and fast-beating heart, and made his way to the front where the Mandalorian Captain presented him the helmet.

“Xisus Crinor left this helmet for you in his will, he considered you a son and was certain you could fill his shoes and become a great Mandalorian. Will you honor his wishes?” Din nodded, of course he would, from that day on that would be his mission. “Then have this helmet and when the time for you to swear into the creed comes, wear it with pride.”

Din grabbed the helmet and went back to his seat, the rest of the funeral fading away as he looked at the object in his lap. Some of the color was fading and there were some indentations on the sides, Din remembered the stories Xisus used to tell him and wondered which enemy made which mark. One day he’d wear the helmet too and have some marks of his own, and maybe if he was lucky enough he’d have a foundling of his own to guide and to protect.

That night when everyone had gone to bed, Din felt someone shake his shoulder. Panic seeped into his veins thinking it might be one of the older boys but instead when he turned he saw Theana’s cheeky smile and calmed down.

“Good, you’re awake.”

“What’s happening Thea?”

“We’re going on an adventure, c’mon.”

The boy rubbed his eyes, trying to become less sleepy as Theana dragged him out of the room, careful not to wake up the other children. Opening the door as quietly as they could they got out and thought that they had been successful, however, they did not notice the pair of eyes staring at them through the darkness.

“Where are we going?” Din asked, his voice hushed, but still, the words sounded way too loud in the empty hall.

“It’s a surprise, do you trust me?” Din nodded. He felt tired and wanted to sleep but he followed his friend nonetheless because of course he trusted her, he trusted her more than anyone in the world. “Then just follow me D.”

Theana guided him through passages Din wasn’t aware even existed, some of them barely big enough for them to walk through. When they reached the final door, Din immediately knew where they were. It opened to reveal the night sky and all of its stars. They were at the Captain's balcony.

“I don’t think we should be here,” Din whispered but still followed his friend to sit on the edge of the roof, their legs dangling over the compound’s entrance.

“No one will know we’re here, stop worrying.” Theana’s face was illuminated by the moonlight, her eyes focused on the stars, and amazement filled her expression. Their daemons had turned into birds and were roaming the night sky, enjoying the freedom of being able to fly. “We should run away.”

Those four words snapped Din out of the bubble of peace he was in. At first, he thought she might be joking but there was no indication of that on her face. He had lost a home not that long ago and now she was suggesting he leave another one behind. Things were not perfect there but they had a roof over their heads and food on the table.

“C’mon D, just you and me, exploring the world. We’ll be free, no one to tell us who we should be or what we should do.”

Before Din could finish processing her words, let alone think of an answer, the door behind them opened. The sound of it made him jump, almost falling off of the edge, only stopped by Theana’s arm on his chest. The sound of the captain’s voice reverberated in his ears.

“What are you two doing here?” Standing up and turning around, the pair of friends found the captain, his beskar armor reflecting the moonlight, and a smug-looking Caed at his side. “Answer the question.”

Din started sweating, this was the end, he would not have a choice in the matter, he had just started dreaming about being a Mandalorian and now they were going to kick him out. But as he was spiraling, Theana stood in front of him, partially blocking him from the Captain’s view. “This was my idea sir, he had nothing to do with it. I was the one to bring him here, he had no idea where we were going. I just wanted to help him feel better after Officer Crinor’s passing.”

“Is that true son?” Theana looked back at Din and mouthed the words it’s okay , so Din nodded. “Well then, this time I’ll let it slide, seeing that Crinor’s death was surely an emotional event for you, but be sure to choose the people around you more carefully. Caed go with Din downstairs. Theana stay here, we need to talk.”

Din took a step forward and stopped next to his friend who gave him an encouraging smile. Cornelia, now a ferret, walked by his side, leaving their friends behind to face the consequences of their actions. The next day they would find out that sneaking into the captain’s balcony carried a hard punishment with it. The girl was given so many chores that took her from sunrise to sunset to be able to complete them, and she was removed from the few classes girls were allowed to take while her punishment lasted which would be two whole months.

And so, a voice in the back of Din’s head was born, a voice he would try to drown so many times in the future, a voice that told him that maybe Theana was right when she told him they had to get away from there. From that day on Din would be conflicted between his wish to honor Xisus’ legacy and his loyalty to his best friend.

Midivour, who was enjoying his final form as a monkey by climbing on everything he could, followed Theana as they searched for Din and Cornelia in their special garden. The boy’s daemon had also been changing less and less, meaning his time to make a decision about whether or not he would take the oath was approaching too. The teen girl sat next to him, resembling their first interaction so many years ago. They had changed and their bond had become stronger yet both of them knew that the conversation that was going to take place could change everything.

“Please say something,” Theana pleaded after a silent couple of minutes.

“There’s nothing to say,” the boy murmured, his gaze focusing on a specially long piece of grass as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever encountered.

“Din-” she started pleading.

“What Theana?!” He snapped back at her, his eyes meeting hers, his expression showing how hurt he was. “What do you want me to say when you’re the one leaving?!”

“That’s my choice, you can’t blame me for it. This is no way to live, don’t you see it Din? We’re always going to be a pawn in their games, nothing more than muscle they can use whenever they like.” By this point even the wind had stopped to listen to the discussion, their voices cutting through the air like daggers.

"You’re wrong. I'm gonna save people by staying here, just like they saved us."

"What you're gonna be is a faceless man in a sea of many, no longer you but only a soldier." She sighed, resigned. “Don’t you see that was the whole reason to save us? So they can train us to be just like them.” He turned his head to the sky, closing his eyes, refusing to look at her anymore.

“We promised we’d become soldiers together but you chose to leave. You’re not only leaving the Mandalorians, you’re leaving me. ”

“That’s not-”

“You should go, there’s nothing more to be said and the sun is about to set.”

“Din-”

“Goodbye Theana.” He didn’t even give her a chance to reply, standing up and leaving right after. During the following years he would stay up all night wondering what would have happened had he looked back, would their friendship have been stronger than his sense of duty?

Their daemons, not wanting to leave but knowing there was no choice, bumped their heads together to say goodbye, hoping with all their hearts it would be a temporary one.

When Din returned to his room he found a letter on his bed, his name written in Theana's neat handwriting. Not even bothering to open it, he tucked it away at the back of his drawer with the few possessions he had. As Theana left the compound she had called home for the better part of the last decade, Din hit a boxing bag in the gymnasium, not stopping until his knuckles were covered in blood. Both teens had a broken heart that would never heal entirely. After all, no one completely recovers from losing a friend, from losing family. The best a person can hope for is that the pain lessens as time passes, and maybe if they’re one of the lucky ones, to be able to look back at the memories without feeling a pang in the heart.

The boy’s daemon had kept the same form for two weeks, confessing to her human she did not feel the need or the want to change anymore. It was no surprise to either of them that she ended up as a polar bear, that was the animal that had made them feel safe throughout their childhood and it would be the animal that made others feel safe.

The time to make a decision had come. “What are we going to do?” Cornelia bumped her head against his arm, prompting the sixteen-year-old to pet her.

He thought about how safe he felt when Xisus had rescued him, about how he wished he could be that strong to help others, he thought about his mentor’s last wish. “We have to stay.” But then Theana crossed his mind, it had been almost 2 years since he last saw her, yet her memory kept popping up during the times he least expected. He pushed her to the back of his mind, he could not do this if he thought about her. He turned to Cornelia, trying not to sound unsure. “This is the Way.”

As soon as Din announced to his superior the fact that his daemon had settled along with his intentions of becoming a Mandalorian the ceremony was arranged. The armorer was in charge of carrying it out. The foundlings and the available Mandalorians were gathered and the armorer presented him Xisus’ helmet, prompting him to place his hand on top of it.

“Din Djarin, do you swear to take the Mandalorian oath, to uphold the values we hold in this organization, and to be a soldier first before anything else?” Din looked at Cornelia who nodded, giving him the strength he needed.

“I do.”

“Do you swear to never take your helmet off in front of anyone else, thus keeping your identity concealed from the rest of the world?” He felt the cold metal of the helmet warming up under his skin. He could do this. He had to.

“I do.”

“Then this is the Way.” She handed him the helmet, and he took a second to look at it before putting it on.

“This is the Way,” he repeated. This time there was no sadness tinting his voice from behind the helmet. He had made his choice, and there was no use in thinking of regrets. This was his fate.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #his dark materials #pedro pascal #bee castle writing

33 notes · View notes

aftgficrec · 4 years ago

Note

Hi Hi! All right with you? So happy that this is open! Thank you for all the hard work, guys, lots of love for you! So, I would like it very much if you would give me a compilation of supernatural andreil of any kind, or with powers and these superhero moves! Bonus if in the fic Andrew decides to protect Neil!

We have trawled through our posts and dug up as much of our previously recommended fics with supernatural/superpower elements as possible. We’ve probably missed something, but you can always check our supernatural or superheroes/superpowers tag for more.

This list by no means represents all there is to find out there (and let’s be grateful to those hard working authors who add daily to the aftg tag on ao3), but hopefully we’ve given you a good starting point.

As for a protective Andrew, the fics we’ve chosen to highlight in this post should fulfil that requirement. Enjoy the read! - S

Previous recommendations

supernatural elements:

supernatural/monster/spooky fics here

cryptids/adventurecore/supernatural here

horror/supernatural fics here

cryptidcore fics here

staff recs oct 2020 (Halloween/spookiness) here

autumnal/spooky fics here

Neil with wings and magic here

immortal Andreil here

immortal Neil/Andrew here

demon!Neil here

angels & demons here

werewolf aus here

vampire Neil here

vampire Andrew here

vampire aus here

shadowhunters aus here

daemon aus here

harry potter aus here, here and here

fairie aus here

fave fantasy fics here

magic/urban fantasy here

Neil as a fantasy creature here

Neil as a familiar here

Neil as a shapeshifter here

long fae aus here

Cursed! here

‘The Corpse Road’ here

‘The Ghost In You’ here

‘Abram Isn’t Dead’ here

‘F.O.X.E.S. Division’ here

‘A Hole In The World’ here

‘Who You Gonna Call?’ here

‘devil’s got us all in his pockets’ here

‘Spookies & Cream’ here

‘(don’t fear) the reaper’ here

‘The Monsters Under the Bed’ here

‘I just wanted to protect you’ here

‘The War Behind Your Face; And I’ll Express My Inner Rage’ here

‘Fang and Claw and Tooth and Nail’ here

‘Sunday in a Six-Day-War’ and ‘Bump in the Night’ here

‘Haunted: Not Clickbait’ here

‘the haunted walls of the wesninski house’ here

‘some ghosts are real enough (to be felt)’ here (since updated)

‘dangerous magics’ here

‘Not all that glitters is gold’ here

‘Since the beginning’ series here

‘Magesong’ here (now complete)

‘Raise Your Spirits’ and ‘cover me (the enchanted ink remix)’ here

‘Heartlines’ here

‘Under A Sea of Mist’ here

‘Blood On My Name’ and ‘Unbound’ here

‘Ghosts That We Knew’ here (now complete)

‘running with the wolves’ here

‘high up in the hills of california’ series here

‘great minds against themselves conspire’ here

‘Sent to Drain’ here

superheroes/superpowers:

superpowers AUs here

Foxes with superpowers here

more powered foxes here

My Hero Academia aus here

Spider-Man aus here

Sense8 aus here

‘The Darkest Hearts’ here

‘heaven and hell (were words to me)’ here

‘The Fall’ here

‘We could be heroes’ here

‘Andrew is Not Emused’ here

‘The 148’ here

Andrew as Neil’s protector:

band aid on a broken heart by thatsabitgay [Rated T, 8405 words, complete, 2020]

Neil casually kicked one of the dead bodies' arms out of the way and grimaced when the act caused him to stain his sneakers with blood. "Aw, shit. These were new as well."

Dagger glanced behind him at Neil from where he was crouched before another corpse. He was checking for a pulse, Neil presumed. "A tragedy. Quite possibly the worst thing that could have happened." His voice was as monotonous as ever.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced torture

The Problem with Flying by TheBashfulPoet [Rated G, 4798 words, complete, Aftg Exchange 2019]

Andrew has a problem and it starts and ends with Neil fucking Josten. At first, he was only annoying — always popping into Andrew’s life at the most inconvenient times and making it more complicated at every turn. Then he was amusing, a break from the mundane that were people and his daily life. But now, now he was just a problem — a problem Andrew was finding that he didn’t know how to handle or solve.

Or 3 times Andrew has to hide his secret identity from Neil + 1 time he didn't

tw: cartoon violence

Run for Cover by rorschachs [Rated T, 64549 words, complete 2019]

Part 1 of The Others AU

Neil thought that the most dangerous part of his new job would be his werewolf boss. Andrew Minyard seems determined to prove him wrong.

tw: canon-typical violence, tw: blood, tw: self harm, tw: implied/referenced torture

Every Time a Bell Rings by fuzzballsheltiepants [Rated M, 56704 words, complete, 2018]

Nathaniel has been lost since his mother died. According to the authorities, he died too, in the shootout that killed his father. In reality, he's been dragging himself along from town to town, sleeping on the streets, lacking even a name. He's not sure how he's been surviving, or if it's even worth it anymore.

Andrew has been stuck in the waiting room of the Afterlife, reading the same stupid pamphlets and listening to the same terrible music, ever since he was collateral damage in the car wreck that eliminated his mother. Until he gets a chance to take over the guardianship of one particularly difficult person and possibly earn his wings--if he can keep the idiot alive.

Basically, an It's a Wonderful Life AU featuring our favorite Foxes.

tw: depression, tw: suicide attempt, tw: temporary major character death

some more recent wips to enjoy:

Here With You by likearecord [Rated T, 9543 words, incomplete, last updated April 2021]

It turns out, there's no more imaginative torturer than your own mind.

Almost no one escapes on their own.

But how can you trust a stranger in hell?

In Andrew's defense, I don't know what this is either.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

North Star by justadreamfox [Rated T, 8371 words, incomplete, last updated April 2021]

The world as they knew it ended in ice and snow, sparing only the strong and clever. What's left has been forged through a bloody war for territory - shifter against shifter. The battles have mostly been fought, but they're not done yet - there are lingering threats to address and a New World to build.

But really, Andrew just wants more than a few stolen moments with Neil and time to figure out what this really means.

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rhaenyratargeryn · 4 years ago

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SHEPHERDS OF HAVEN RECRUIT FORM - Achillea Shrike

BIOGRAPHICAL INFO

Name, Nicknames: Achillea Shrike, Illea (pronounced like "Ilya")

Callsign: Speaker

Gender: female

Sexuality: pansexual

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 24

BACKGROUND INFO

Weapon: Sword

Magic Specialization: Psionic//Diviner

Racial Heritage: Elf

Education: Circle-trained

MISCELLANEOUS INFO

Past Jobs: caravan guard//fortune teller//palm reader

Likes: Quiet days, reading, scenic walks, history, plants/gardening, sunny days, delicious food (girl has been living off rations for half her life, she likes a GOOD MEAL)

Dislikes: the dark, night, cold, flying insects.

Strengths: Highly reliable. She has a soothing presence and is one of those people whom people tell "everything" without meaning to. Excellent swords-woman.

Weaknesses: Emotionally guarded. Able to shut down as fast as she can open up. Doesn't rely on others. Trust issues x1000.

Hobbies/Special Skills: Gardening, journaling and scrying. She is a fast learner and a fast reader.

Guardian Animal/Daemon/Patronus: Porcupine/Marsupial/Panda

Major Arcana: The Moon

DnD Morality Alignment: Lawful Good

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Meyers-Briggs Personality Type: ISFJ

PERSONALITY

(Bold which way your recruit leans.)

Heart of Gold/Will of Iron

Rebellious/Loyal

Independent/Social

Tactful/Straightforward

Bold/Cautious

Charming/Stoic/Intimidating

Witty/Sincere

Resentful/Forgiving

Self-Preserving/Self-Sacrificing

Book-Smart/Street-Smart

One-God/Atheist/Old Faith

RELATIONSHIPS

Best Friend(s): Red, Tallys, Briony

Preferred Mission Partner(s): Blade, Trouble, Tallys

Friendly Rival(s): Chase

Love Interest(s): Blade (current), Red (ex-boyfriend), Chase (current)

Ship Name(s): Achilade ?! Achilase???

First Kiss Scenario: Your first kiss with Blade happens in the moonlight. (Okay, I just have to add, I love this scenario because Achillea hates the night. She hates the dark. It is from where every fear, every monster, every shadow that has thrown itself over her life and her loved ones has come from. So for such a happy even to happen AT NIGHT would be a big deal.) Alt: Your first kiss with Chase is during an unexpected rainstorm. (Oooooo very dramatic)

Enemies: WHAT WAS THAT ASSHOLE GUYS NAME WHO DIDNT WANT ME TO TALK TO CAINE? HIM. And every faceless lord ya know.

Reference Quote from Last Employer or Other Recruits: Dependable and an early riser. Amiable and professional. (Former caravan employer.) Achillea fight's well. Her form is graceful and fluid. In the training yard she is beautiful to watc— wait. No. Don't write that. I didn't— that wasn't— ...stop writing. (Blade, current commander.)

ART

Put an art reference (original or picrew) of your recruit here!

I couldn't find a single anime style picrew that worked for her, so this is the closest! Consider it a modern day AU?! And they didn't have purple eyes, so we got black.

For more detailed sheets and ways to flesh out your character, go to @feather-x-crown‘s MC Google template, the ShoH playthrough surveys, and the quizzes found here under the Quizzes tab.

And we are suppose to tag people but no one I follow plays this so I AM ALONE.

#shepherds of haven recruit form #shepherds of haven #shoh #shoh mc #oc; achillea shrike #that i got the MOON as her arcana is perfect #because she is probably the most deeply emotional and moody MC i have EVER MADE #she and blade can bond over their mutual hobby of brooding #and maybe deal with some t r a u m a together or something #and also PORCUPINE AS HER GUARDIAN ANIMAL #idk what marsupial would be her daemon #probably a sugar glider

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lewis-winters · 4 years ago

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Some additional dæmon!au headcanons, a continuation of this headcanon list.

Ok so I thought about it some more and decided to change Dick's dæmon from a Caracara to a Gyrfalcon. Still a raptor, but a larger one that has, historically, been used in falconry and hunting and is, in some European countries, a symbol of patriotism and national pride. Dick's daemon is a female, silver-streaked Gyrfalcon that settled sometime after college but before Fort Benning. Her name's Anahida, and she speaks like a queen. Like, literally, I imagine her voice sounds a lot like Helen McCrory's (gee, I wonder why). She's very large and eye catching, but she only speaks when spoken to-- which is rare. In a society as repressed as 1930s - 1940s America, I imagine speaking to another person's dæmon would be seen as rude or taboo. Because of that, Anahida barely speaks and thus, people often forget she's there. There are rumors too, that Dick's the son of a witch, because Anahida likes to fly far above and at a distance, farther than any human-dæmon bond should go. However, it isn't true. They just practiced a lot growing up. Dick's always wanted to fly, in some way or another, and practicing as well as testing how far they can both stretch from each other was their afternoon play time. It's weird. I know. But this is Dick we're talking about. Of course he'd do something like this.

Anahida is the only one allowed to berate Dick when he's being exceptionally petty or self-righteous. She keeps him in check. It never happens often, but it happens enough. Other than that, they're right as rain and very in-sync with each other.

Is anybody surprised that the only other person who will ever address Anahida directly is Lewis? Show of hands? None? Yeah, me too.

Liebgott's dæmon's name is Chaya and, after some pondering, I've come to the conclusion that she's a Bat-eared fox. Very chatty, too. She and Lieb are very blunt, but she's arguably the blunter one of the two. Where Lieb sometimes gives into the urge to hide or repress feelings, Chaya is willing to take more risk. She does this thing where she will boldly go one way, the way she knows is good for them both, stretching their bond even to its thinnest and most painful, just to get Lieb to finally concede and agree with her. They're both stubborn as all hell, that's the problem. Sometimes Lieb will deny himself things for a myriad of reasons. Chaya has no such qualms. She loves him, but she definitely thinks he's an idiot sometimes. It also sometimes extends to how Lieb gets really soft around people he cares about. In the wild, male Bat-eared foxes are the more nurturing of the young, while the females are the ones who go out and hunt. Kind of the same with Lieb and Chaya. Lieb takes care, he hovers and forgets that boundaries exist-- his own, and the person he's taking care of. But Chaya's the kind who remembers, and reminds Lieb that sometimes you can't give all of yourself away, no matter how much you want to. Does that make sense?

(Disclaimer: I gotta admit. The reason why I hesitated with Lieb was because I didn't want to accidentally be anti-Semitic. I grew up in a country that is primarily Christian and Muslim so I am only familiar with Islamophobic visual vocab, not so the anti-Semitic ones. I had to make sure the animals I assigned a Jewish man's literal soul to were not anti-Semitic or used in anti-Semitic imagery by Nazi propaganda in any way. So. Yeah. Um. Pigs, goats, lizards/reptiles, rats, rodent-adjacent, or any animal seen as "pests" or "vermin" were immediately struck out. Nope. Let's not.)

You wouldn't know it at first glance, but Web and his raven dæmon have a very intense love-hate relationship. Annabelle is a very act-first, introspection-never kind of thing. Web is the opposite. Sometimes, Annabelle will act before Web himself will, and she can be very, very vicious. Because of this, Web is afraid of her and Annabelle resents him. They never fight in public, they largely ignore each other, but often when they get into it... well. It gets almost... a bit too violent. Some of the others have never seen a human and a daemon hurt each other until they’ve met these two. Sometimes, Annabelle often thinks that she’s somebody else entirely, a completely different entity from Web, and sometimes, Web thinks she’s a changeling. That maybe some fae or other switched his real daemon out for this cursed one. It’s a really fractured, complicated relationship.

When they’re on the same wave length, though, they’re scary. The only thing they can seem to agree on is passionate and impulsive anger. Web will always regret it afterwards whereas Annabelle is always smug about it. They calm down after the war and they’re back home. During the war, though, they’re both a mess.

Joe Toye’s daemon is a doberman pinscher named Alessia who is just about as quiet and solemn as her human. Classic soldier daemon. He calls her Al for short. When he loses a leg, she doesn’t. I don’t think amputation in the daemon world works that way, at least not according to Pullman’s original text. Going back home with her after his amputation is easier because she’s there to encouraged him and hold him up when necessary. They make a good team. They share similar fears and insecurities so it’s easy for the both of them to understand each other and help each other through it.

Pat has a little american robin as a daemon. Which is really funny, honestly. Big tough guy like Pat, you’d think he’d have a big tough daemon for sure, but that’s not the case with him. He’s always been gentle and unassuming, Pat and so is his daemon. Her name’s Aoibheann (pronounced ay-veen). She likes to sit on his shoulder and rarely flies far away from him. When they jumped, she stayed inside his jacket at all times, tucked away and close. The only time she flies is later on at peace time, when she knows they’re both safe and she can leave Pat for a few minutes without it being too much trouble.

Johnny’s daemon is a mongoose named Corentine, but he calls her Cora. She’s fiesty. Sobel’s rooster daemon, Julius, wasn’t very fond of her. In fact, he was downright frightened of her. It’s why Sobel won’t mess with Johnny. It’s really funny.

Perco’s daemon is in the same family. A weasel. A tiny little thing he can hold in both his hands. Her name’s Jackie. I have no idea why. But it fits.

Ralph Spina’s daemon is a raccoon. It’s adorable. His name’s Nimaphael. But he hates it and everybody just calls him Nim. Ralph carries him around like a baby on a sling, strapped to his chest. Unlike Harry and Saoirse, you can tease them about this. They’re aware it looks ridiculous. They also don’t care.

Bull’s daemon is a sun bear. I know. I didn’t see this coming, either. But I thought about it and... honestly? It fits. Not to mention Bull’s pretty big. He can carry her no problem. Her name’s Xanthia, by the way. And she’s very sweet, if only a little gruff in showing affection. She’s also not afraid to do what needs to be done. If she needs to have a go at an enemy’s daemon, then you know she’ll do it. She definitely isn’t afraid to get down and dirty. It scares the replacements for awhile, until they realize that she only does it to protect her own.

I finally figured out what Merriell Shelton’s daemon is-- it’s a Jaguarundi. It’s a wild cat that looks to be a mix between a house cat and a mongoose. They’re fascinating and they hiss. A lot. It’s a perfect fit. Again, he name is Charlotte, but he calls her Lotte. Imagining them swaggering down the streets of 1940s New Orleans appeals to my aesthetic sense so much I cry just thinking about it.

BONUS:

Kitty Grogan’s daemon is, not surprisingly, a cat. But not a domesticated one. He looks like it at first glance, but he’s not. He’s an African Wild Cat and he’s a sarcastic little shit named Xaphania. Xaph for short. Send me a wink if you understand that reference.

#dæmon au #band of brothers #dick winters #joe liebgott #david webster #joe toye #pat christenson #johhny martin #frank perconte #ralph spina #bull randleman #kitty grogan #the pacific #merriell shelton #bob hcs #bob aus

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namfine · 5 years ago

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⊙ | 𝕷𝖚𝖝𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖆 : 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 | ⊙

Lust is an inordinate craving for the pleasures of the body.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

α pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

α word count: 7.1k

α summary: A loveless marriage drives you to a dark part of your city in search of the things that once made you happy. Instead, you find a man who awakens carnal desires deep inside you that you never knew existed. An impulsive decision and a loss of control make for the best paintings but driven past the point of no return- tell me, is it worth falling for?

α tags/TW: 18+, smut, bts smut, taehyung x reader, reader insert, artist Taehyung, strangers, knife play, blood play, rough sex, master x servant relationship, dom x sub relationship, dominant male, dirty talk, unprotected sex, affair, alcohol consumption, sex under the influence, daemon au

α part: 1 of 7 of our Seven Deadly Sins Milestone Challenge.

⋫ Link to Master List here

α a/n: Hello and welcome to the first piece in our Sin Challenge! We are beyond excited to share this journey with you, please check out the master list for the rest of the pieces which will be released once a day for the next 7 days. This piece was a blast to write but I did let out a little bit of my kinky self (just a tiny bit, it’s not too crazy) and I hope you all enjoy it.

- ☆.｡.:* Zesty .｡.:*☆

The minute you saw him you knew you were in trouble.

It was a Tuesday. You were out for a walk trying to escape the reminders of a loveless marriage that waited for you when you returned home. You were in what would have been called a dodgy part of your city but it reminded you of your old college town and you couldn’t give it up.

Litter crowded the sidewalk and you swerved around panhandlers trying to score a few cents. You stood out in your business clothes, the handbag a gift from your husband as an apology for his latest secretary fling.

You looked at the bag, the designer label loud and proud on the front. You can’t say you were surprised that your husband had wandering eyes. After all, that’s how you came to marry him in the first place. You were his secretary too, once. A fling that he started to escape his second wife. One you participated in because you were young, vulnerable, and searching for a thrill. You were always just another conquest on his radar, never seen as an equal and definitely never loved.

In college you never imagined living such an unhappy future.

Maybe that’s what drew you here. What led you to the little art studio under the neon signs, tucked behind the tattoo shop where men slouched outside taking long drags of stolen cigarettes. A quarter life crisis where you tried to grasp what made you happy in the past.

Stepping into the studio was like taking a step into another world. Darkness enveloped you, the walls a deep sapphire blue with spotlights illuminating the classically inspired art pieces. You walked further in, careful to avoid the other patrons, the grey stone floor made your heels sing and you wished silently for anything else so you wouldn’t draw any more attention to yourself. No one was speaking loud, only hushed whispers as pairs and groups mingled through the gallery, admiring the works. You weren’t surprised as you took in one after the other of the elaborate paintings that the visitors were both too stunned and aroused to casually chat. The works depicted some of life’s most desired and feared moments.

Every one of the paintings showed people fucking.

Every position you could imagine, with and without clothes, choking, bondage, everything. You perused the works, each one simultaneously taking your breath away as well inspiring a curiosity deep within you that you hadn’t felt in years. Clearly the creator was proficient in the art of lovemaking and not afraid to show it.

You zoned in on the face of a woman in pure ecstasy, her head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt that sort of passion with your husband or any of the others before him. You didn’t think you’d ever had.

Something drew you from your thoughts and your eyes flicked across the room, surprised to meet the eyes of a young man. He looked to be mid to late twenties and wore simple loose fitting tan pants with a deep blue shirt tucked in. He was flanked on either side by two beautiful women who appeared to be deep in a conversation that didn’t include him, but his eyes never left you. He was striking, to say the least, with brilliant shaggy black hair and a smirk that conveyed a lazy sense of male confidence that you could feel from where you stood.

It was exhilarating.

Unnerved by your response, you broke the gaze and spun out of the gallery back to the loud street. You paused for a minute on the street, your back flush against the brick building of the gallery, avoiding the looks of edgy passersby.

Who was he?

You pushed the thought deep into the back of your mind and left the street heading back to the silent home where you knew your husband would be absent.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

You found yourself in that little gallery in the corner of the city a few more times that month. Soon, it was like your feet were bringing you there without your mind even realizing it. You would just wake up when you walked through the ornate gold trimmed door, into the plush dark blue of the room. It was better than being home, constantly reminded that your marriage was a sham and probably the biggest mistake of your life. Whether you visited for the art pieces or him even you didn’t really know. Regardless, you never caught another glimpse of the mysterious raven-haired man and honestly, it was probably for the better. At least this way you retained some form of plausible deniability about why you actually visited the gallery.

It was a Saturday, late in October, when you noticed it. You were working your way through the pieces, paying special attention to your favorites, the ones you wished you were bold enough to try when your eyes found a small one tucked into the back of a winding hallway. Like all the others, the only luminance was the small spotlights meant to display the piece and you moved down the hall to get a closer look.

It hadn’t been there the last time you visited, you were sure of it, so it must have been new. It was smaller than the others, more intimate, portraying two lovers, as opposed to some of the elaborate orgy scenes you had witnessed the artist releasing more of lately.

The male had what appeared to be a medieval dagger in his hands and was using the handle to pleasure his partner’s clit. She had nicks on her skin on her collarbone, fingers, hips where he must have pricked her before but she looked to be enjoying every second, a leather collar tight around her neck, it’s leash in his other hand that gripped her firmly on her hip.

“I haven’t seen you here before, is this your first time?” A husky voice from behind you caused you to jump and you turned around, your face turning beat red.

It was him.

He was garbed in a similar style as the last time you had seen him, this time black slacks and smooth red silk shirt. He blended into the darkness of the navy walls and stepped forward a bit so the spotlight from the painting bounced off his chiseled features. He was even more beautiful up close with eyes so dark the pupil disappeared and full lips above a defined jaw. He had styled his hair today slightly to the side and you could see a sliver of a flawless forehead. Clearly, he had been taking care of his body and you could see the peek of a toned chest from the deep v of his shirt. He was all dark shadows and long lines, his feet slipped into a simple pair of backless dress shoes. How did someone this beautiful exist? Did he not remember me from last time?

Of course he wouldn’t.

He had been surrounded by two stunning women and with a face like that, you were sure he was used to it.

“No,” you responded motioning to the art work. “I come here often after work. I really like the artist’s work. It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he responded and you whipped your head back to him to see him hiding a small grin.

“You’re the artist?” You asked, amazed.

“Is that so astounding?”

You took in his appearance again, so casual and cool. He had both hands in his pant pockets now and was leaning on one foot, giving off an air of quiet confidence.

You shook your head. “No, I guess not.” It really didn’t surprise you in the slightest. You were immediately drawn to this man and obviously attracted to the artwork so it made sense that he had created it. “So . . .” You were eager to continue the conversation, get to know him more. “What’s your favorite piece?”

His eyes lit up at that and he led you on a tour of the studio, pointing out pieces he particularly enjoyed making or that he thought turned out well. You watched as his features changed from casual aloofness to one of childlike excitement as he talked about his work. It was late and what few patrons there were happy to leave you both to your own devices, and you continued for about an hour with no interruptions. It was near closing when he led you to another piece you hadn’t seen before.

This one was simpler, two people once again in the throes of passion but this time only the man’s face was visible, his eyes peering down at his lovers while he chased his release.

“Are all of your paintings. . . . uh” you searched for the right word. “Do all of your paintings contain such visceral acts?”

He raised an eyebrow at your choice of words. “Yes, all of my paintings show people fucking.”

The way he enunciated the last word made the hairs on your arms stand up.

“And. . . “ you couldn’t meet his eyes. “Do you paint from experience?” You didn’t know what game you were playing but you couldn’t deny your attraction to this man. You were walking a dangerous line.

He studied you intently. “Not all of them. Some are just fantasies of mine. I like knowing that my work can inspire others to spice up their sex lives. Give them ideas of things they might like to try.”

Wow, a real civil servant.

“What are your fantasies?” he asked, bluntly.

You met his eyes. “I don’t know, I guess I’m sort of stuck. Maybe that’s why I keep coming here.”

“I have some more, up in my apartment if you need more inspiration.”

A dangerous line, indeed.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I don’t even know your name and besides-” you indicated to the ring on your finger and shrugged. “I’m married.”

The man didn’t seem deterred by the announcement of your marriage in the slightest. In fact, he didn’t seem surprised at all. “The name’s Taehyung and I highly doubt your husband will be upset if you come home with some great ways to spice up your sex life. In fact, he’ll probably be grateful.”

He had you there. Although it had been months since your husband had even touched you.

“Okay,” you replied before your brain could stop you.

“Great, let me close up and grab my coat. It’s within walking distance,” he turned to leave.

“Y/N,” you blurted and he turned to look over his shadow at you. “That’s my name.”

“I know.”

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Hyper indulgent.

Irresponsible.

Impulsive.

That’s probably what they’ll say about me, you thought as you followed Taehyung out the back door of the studio and into the crisp night air. It’s important to note that you knew it was wrong. When all was said and done, you went in with your head clear.

You weren’t ignorant. You knew where this was heading.

He led you down a winding alley behind the gallery, wrapping his hand warmly around yours when you tripped on some exposed cobblestone. He and you both knew that seeing the paintings was a cover for what he really could offer you. A night of passion.

The sun had set long ago but you found yourself admiring the way the street lights illuminated the crevices of the brick buildings. Something about being with this man heightened your senses. You found yourself entranced with the laundry that dangled thirty feet above your head, the steam bursting out of the old metal pipes that danced outside the buildings.

He glanced back at you, watching as your face changed into one of wonder, your fingertips brushing the edges of the alley, returning covered with dew. You missed the small, mischievous smile he gave you as he pulled you up some narrow stairs. Too focused on your heightened awareness of a city you thought you had seen every bit of you didn’t resist as he pulled you into a doorway at the top casting a predatory look at the lines of your neck, the curve of your collarbone.

You came to your senses within Taehyung’s apartment. Dark shapes rose out of the darkness and you felt a slight prick of fear in the back of your mind as you realized you had just followed a stranger to his apartment in the middle of the night and no one knew where you were. He released your hand, as if he sensed your unease, and began moving around his space turning on the few lamps he had but mostly lighting the candles he had lined against the walls.

Tentatively, you took a few steps into the room. The soft light illuminated the dark shapes to be a collection of eclectic objects that included a few nude marble statues, a large dark green fern atop a baby grand piano, and a suit of armor stashed in a corner. To say he was a collector was to put it minimally. He had the usual couch and dining table but they were buried beneath art supplies and hidden behind canvases of unfinished works. A single door appeared across the room, furthest from you as he lit a few more candles that you assumed was his bedroom.

Your mind followed your feet as you were drawn to a rather large painting across from the couch where one may have put a television, although Taehyung didn’t have one. It was of two lovers, gripped in a passionate embrace, not unlike the others in the room or in his studio. What drew you to it was that the people weren’t quite human. You couldn’t put your finger on it but there was something different about the way they gripped one another. The glint in their eyes as they fucked, almost predatory - but definitely vital. Desperate.

You tilted your head and watched as their forms seemed to shift before your eyes. Dark wings sprung from the male’s back, a spindly tale grew out of the female. You reached out, tracing the edge of the elongated canines on the male, your fingers moving down his body to the nails growing, shaping-

“Like what you see?” Taehyung’s voice drew you from your trance and you turned to see him looking at you from across the room, face shrouded in the darkness of the dim light. He was shaking his hand slightly to extinguish a match.

You whipped your head back to the painting to find the creatures returned to their human state. No wings. No tails. Just regular plump humans gettin’ it on.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, your fingers tracing the same hand that had grotesquely sported the inhuman nails only seconds before.

“Would you like something to drink?” Taehyung asked, his voice sounding off further than it had a second ago. You whipped your head in his direction only to find him behind the counter of the kitchen, clear on the other side of the apartment. How did he get there so fast?

“Uh, yes please.” You responded moving towards him and pushing the thought of the shifting painting from your mind.

Taehyung pulled out an aged bottle of what appeared to be red wine from a place called LaVeyan Vineyards. The bottle was nearly completely black, dusty like it had sat for years in the same place, and a simple gold trim around the edge of the label.

“What is that?” You asked, sitting on one of the twin leather barstools across from him.

He looked at you, a single eyebrow raised. “Wine.”

You rolled your eyes. “I got that, genius. I meant what kind?”

Taehyung pulled two ornate wine glasses from an old china cabinet and placed them in front of you, making quick work of opening the bottle. He shrugged as he poured two glasses. “I don’t remember. A friend of mine made it ages ago. It’s vintage.”

You took a glass in your hand, swirling it slightly to make sure it was properly aerated, brushing off the comment about his friend making vintage wine. Taehyung didn’t look much older than 28, you weren’t sure how anything his friends made could be considered vintage.

Regardless, the wine emanated a strange smell that you couldn’t quite place. You were no expert but you had enjoyed more than your fair share of wine in your life and this one smelled metallic.

Taehyung didn’t seem to notice or at least didn’t care and brought the smooth liquid to his lips for a long taste. Following suit, you sipped it, smacking your lips to try and place the flavor. Sweet yet . . . . tangy?

“Do you like it?” He asked, leaning his elbows on the counter across from you so that your faces were closer together.

You nodded. “It’s . . . . unusual. But good.”

He smiled. “So, y/n, are you an artist as well?”

You shook your head, taking another sip of the wine. It was growing on you. “No, not at all actually,” you placed the wine on the counter, clasping your hands under your chin and resting your head on them to peer up at him through long lashes. “That’s part of the reason I was so drawn to your work. It’s something I have absolutely no talent for.”

Taehyung chuckled. “Ah, so you were drawn by my work. Not necessarily by me.”

So bold.

“I didn’t say that.” You traced the rim of your glass with your index finger, aware of the way his eyes devoured your every move. I am so going to hell for this.

Taehyung smiled, but it was a smile that held no joy. He smiled like he had a dirty secret that only the devil knew about. “What do you want, Y/N?”

The question took you by surprise. What did you want? Why were you there? In the back of your mind, you knew this was wrong. But there was just something about Taehyung, you couldn’t put your finger on it. Something about him called to the primal parts of your body, the parts that you usually buried deep inside yourself. He made you want to throw caution to the wind and just let go of your inhibitions.

It wasn’t only that he was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen, although that helped, it was his entire aura. The manor in which he conducted himself, his confidence, the deep timbre of his voice.

You were losing control.

You lifted the wine glass to your lips, now less than half full and took a long sip, considering your answer.

“I want to have a choice in my life for once, I want to do what I want to do. Not what someone else tells me I should do.”

Taehyung seemed to like that answer. He stared at you thoughtfully as he polished off his glass.

“What about you? What do you want?” you asked.

The dim lighting couldn’t hide the glint in his eyes as he reached to grab the bottle of wine, pouring himself another full glass. The dark red liquid swirled slowly, guided by an expert hand and he brought it to his full lips to take a sip before answering your question.

“I want you.”

You were taken aback by his curtness, you had only just met after all. You brought your wine glass to your lips and tipped it back only to stop abruptly. The liquid at the edge of your mouth wasn’t wine.

You pulled the glass back and for a brief second you stared at the liquid, thicker than wine but just as dark. You dipped a single finger into the glass. The liquid was room temperature, as all red wine should be, but slightly heavier in viscosity. You lifted the red coated finger to your lips, inserting the finger into your mouth. The liquid was metallic in taste, different than it had tasted mere minutes before. Taehyung’s eyes watched you intently.

It was almost like the more you drank the more you wanted him. The wine acting as some sort of criminal aphrodisiac, pushing yourself past what your sound mind told you was okay. Pushing you past your normal boundaries that kept you in the stagnant life you ached to be released from.

“I want you as well.”

It was as if you had opened the dam to a great reservoir, Taehyung was on you in seconds moving from around the counter to scoop you off the barstool and place you on your feet. He pushed his lips against your own, opening his mouth immediately, nothing chaste in his actions. You wrapped your hands around his neck and he cupped your ass bringing you closer to him before hoisting you up and placing you on the counter beside your glass.

His kisses did nothing to aid the strange metallic taste in your mouth, in fact, it made it stronger. Stronger in taste and stronger in the lightness that flew to your brain urging you to pull him closer, open your legs wider.

He pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth and you groaned into his mouth as his hands found purchase in the buttons of your blouse and began to hurriedly undo them. His fingers were deft and within a few short minutes you sat before him with only your bra above your pants and he pulled back to look at you.

“Is this what you want, y/n?” He asked, his lips swollen from kissing, his hair tousled in candlelight. “Are you sure you want to continue this journey?”

You weren’t sure what journey he was referring to but if it had to do with what you hoped he was about to do to you in the bedroom, you sure as hell were ready. It was Taehyung, for the short period of time you had known him, he liked to be dramatic so you brushed off the comment.

“Oh,” you said, pulling him towards you by the cloth of his loose silk shirt and reaching up to whisper into his ear. “I’m ready.”

Taehyung growled in response and gripped your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter so you could feel him through his loose dress pants before slowly rolling into your clothed core. He was already so hard. “Then there’s one thing you need to learn about me,” he whispered, ghosting his lips over the crest of your ear, one hand snaking up your body to palm your breast through your bra as he subtly thrusted into you. Your head tilted back, a soft groan escaping your lips. You had never felt this way with a partner before. With Taehyung all your sexual senses seemed heightened somehow. “I take what I want.”

He scooped you off the counter, careful to avoid contact with the candles, as he walked you both to the doorway on the far end of the apartment, what you had earlier assumed to be his bedroom.

It was like you were walking in a dream, somehow a thick mist had descended onto either the apartment or your mind, casting the collection of strange objects back into a heavy darkness as Taehyung carried you to the room, his lips never leaving some part of your exposed body.

His bedroom was massive. Dark velvet curtains draped the walls, candles once again covered the walls and bedside surfaces although you had no recollection of Taehyung lighting them earlier. His bed was in the center of the room, a massive dark wooden four poster with an extravagant comforter. Taehyung kicked the door shut behind you both before throwing you onto the bed. The curtains surrounding the bedroom blended into the navy walls, creating a sense of comfortable warmness that seemed to soak up what limited lighting there was in the room.

You turned your head, eager to absorb as much of the space as you could and your eyes caught the glint of a group of knives on the bedside table. Fascinated, you rolled onto your side, reaching for them. There were five in all, varying shapes and sizes but overall petite little things. One caught your eye, it was about the length of your hand and had six simple deep blue sapphires embedded in the handle. You ran your fingers over the blade gently, intrigued.

Taehyung followed your gaze as he crawled onto the bed behind you, the silk of his shirt felt cool against your skin as he spooned you from behind, nipping softly at the pulse point on your neck, clearly eager to continue what you had started in the kitchen. “I collect them,” he murmured against your skin and you struggled to push down your fascination with the blade before turning in his arms to face him.

“Of course you do,” you whispered. It seemed completely in character.

“Things like that capture my eye,” he ran a finger down your throat. “Beautiful,” his finger dipped lower to the valley between your breasts before tracing down your torso until it rested on the button of your pants “but deadly little things.” Searching your eyes for any retaliation, he paused.

When you smiled at him, a slow lazy smile that you knew would drive him crazy, he slowly untangled himself from you to work on pulling off your pants.

Released from your leg confines, Taehyung pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing a broad expanse of toned stomach before crawling back over you, dipping his head to catch your lips. You eagerly returned the kiss, wrapping your legs around his hips and he dipped his pelvis down, grinding his erection against your sensitive clit through the thin material of his pants and your panties. The wine was making your head spin, although you had only had a glass. You wanted him more with each breath. More than you had ever wanted your husband.

You groaned as he found the right amount of friction and he quickened his pace, roughly rubbing up into you with each thrust. You could feel how incredibly hard he was already and you arched up with each movement, meeting his thrusts but eager for more. Much more.

“You like that, little darling,” he whispered harshly into your ear, his voice raspy and a little out of breath. “You like that you can feel how hard and ready I am from just tasting your lips?”

You responded with your body, chasing a high that only he could give you and he began to end each thrust with a deep roll of his hips. He had to know how he was affecting you, like some \ sex starved teenager dry humping in the back of your dad’s pickup truck. You had never acted like this before, but the way he ground into your clit with each thrust heightened your arousal. You were sure by now, that you were soaking.

Entangling your fingers in his dark hair you pulled slightly as Taehyung began to plaster your neck and torso in large open mouthed kisses, murmuring dirty words and planned actions as he took in every crevice of your exposed body, a hand finding purchase in your clothed breast once again and massaging it in tempo with his thrusts. When he latched onto your pulse point with his full lips, you pulled a little too hard on his hair earning yourself a harsh bite from Taehyung.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed, breaking the embrace, shock written purely on your features as your hand flew to your neck and returned, fingers stained crimson.

You hadn’t realized you were bleeding.

“Sorry,” Taehyung murmured, pulling you back to him, his lips returning to envelop the wound, his tongue swirling around the puncture marks and your stomach rolled in pleasure forgetting the strange occurrence from moments before. What is wrong with me? “I’ll be more careful.”

Finishing his apology on your neck he leaned back, balancing himself on his elbow over you, bringing your bloodstained fingers up to his lips. His hooded eyes, dark with desire, never leaving yours as he took your fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the blood, sucking it off. Heat pooled in your core as you watched him, something incredibly carnal and erotic in his gaze, like he couldn’t wait to consume you whole. He finished with a loud pop and you felt something in you snap.

You didn’t know what came over you but before you even fully realized what you were doing you twisted in the bed, reaching for the pretty little sapphire knife on the bedside table. Grasping it by the handle you pulled it from the magnetic strip attaching it to the holder and turned back to face Taehyung. He hovered over you, watching intently as you grabbed one of his hands and slipped the blade into it. He seemed neither surprised or turned off by your actions as you brought the blade to rest against your throat, he merely raised an eyebrow like he was interested to see how far you would go.

“Why don’t you show me what you can do with these pretty little knives?” You whispered, the blade cool against your throat. “They’re on your bedside table for a reason.”

There was no point in denying it and Taehyung knew it, his gaze darkening, a sly close lipped smile making his features seem almost sinister. When he spoke, it was almost like his voice had dropped an octave, a deep rumbling that sent shivers up your spine.

“Do you trust me, y/n?”

“I wouldn’t give you the knife if I didn’t, Taehyung”

His entire demeanor shifted. He was a commanding presence before, treating you roughly but still like you might break. Holding the knife in his hand seemed to open a new layer of Taehyung that made you realize just how little you knew about him. He twisted the blade in his hand, dragging the tip along your jawline.

“Then why don’t you remove that pretty little bra of yours, darling?” He demanded, his voice low and menacing. “Before I cut it off.” You were ashamed at how turned on it made you as you arched your back up and maneuvered your hands behind you to unclasp the back. Once you had slipped the straps off your shoulder, Taehyung took control clearly impatient with how slowly you were moving to tease him. He grabbed the bra, flicking it off the bed in a period of seconds before leaning down to kiss each of your breasts, paying special attention to each nipple, knife momentarily forgotten.

Your back arched into the mattress but the kiss of the knife against your throat stopped you from moving more. Taehyung stopped his work on your breasts and peered up at you from under long bangs.

“Did I tell you you could move?” He dragged the knife’s tip down the column of your throat, slowly making his way between your breasts and stopping by your naval. “Don’t forget who’s in control here, darling. God forbid,” he circled the knife around your belly button before sitting back on your thighs looking down at you and bringing the knife to his ring finger. “You cut yourself.” He sliced the tip of his finger, not deep, but enough to draw blood.

You let out a small gasp and he smiled lowering himself back down to you, bringing the knife back up your torso, between your breasts, before lifting the bottom of your chin with it, his face inches from yours.

“Suck,” he commanded, holding out his cut finger. You were eager to oblige, bringing his finger past your lips, the wine once again making you bold. Bold enough that you didn’t process that the metallic taste was the same you had encountered earlier that evening. You sucked his finger like your life depending on it, swirling your tongue around the wound, watching his expression take on one of pure euphoria. He was losing control and so were you, but your descent into madness had begun hours ago.

He tossed the knife onto the bedside table, not caring where it landed and roughly pulled his hand out of your mouth. His actions were frantic now and he used the bleeding hand to hold your torso down as his other made quick work of your panties. Gone was the calm and collected Taehyung who had you completely under his control mere minutes ago. Here was the Taehyung acting only on impulsive desires. Your body reveled in this realization.

Before you could process it, his mouth found purchase on your clit and you couldn’t stop the breathy exclamation of his name as the hand on your torso moved to grasp a breast. He was still bleeding, albeit slowly, and you could see the trails of smeared blood drying on your skin wherever he touched you, marking you as his.

You were lost in the moment, his tongue circling and flicking your clit with the occasional suck of his lips. His other hand was parting your folds as he slowly slid one, then two fingers inside you.

“God, you’re soaked,” his voice throaty. “All for me, I get you first.”

You were too caught up in your own pleasure to correct him. You weren’t a virgin, this wasn’t your first time. Although this was the first time anyone had made you feel like this.

You looked down at him, you could feel his teeth scrape your clit lightly and you nearly screamed. “Taehyung, I need you inside me right now.”

You weren’t going to last much longer, and he knew it. He continued his onslaught, moving his fingers in and out of you in an increasingly rapid pace, his teeth scraping against your clit, harsher than before but you weren’t complaining. When you twisted in his grasp he let out a low growl that you felt vibrate along your inner thigh and you screamed out his name as you came.

Taehyung worked you through your climax, placing gentle kisses on your mound as he watched you become a soaking wet mess for him. When you were finished you looked down the length of your body at him, amazed that he made you feel like that with literally just his mouth and fingers.

He pulled his face back to look at yours, his face messy, his hair tousled but his fingers continuing to thrust in and out of you slowly as you came down from any remainder of his high. His appearance seemed different than before but you couldn’t quite place it. Wait- his-

You lurched back in surprise, breaking contact with Taehyung, who watched you with dark eyes. His teeth! Taehyung smiled a slow, boxy grin and you focused on his canines. Once average, the incisors had elongated, into twin fangs. Sensing your unease he released you, his mouth quickly closing. He cocked his head at you, an inhuman action.

“What’s wrong?”

“Y-your teeth,” you blurted, sitting up and reaching out to cup his face so he couldn’t turn away. “They looked like. . . . “ You pulled him closer, ignoring his surprised look as you used a finger to lift his upper lip. No fangs. You dropped your hand.

“I think you’ve had too much wine,” he chuckled leaning forward to capture your lips with his own.

Am I losing my mind?

Taehyung’s hands found the buttons of his slacks and he pushed them down, kicking them off and over the edge of his bed. You were momentarily surprised that his pants were the last layer between you and the thing you wanted most but your lust filled mind figured that Taehyung was always hot and ready for the next time he would get something to fuck.

And right now, that very thing was you.

His cock wasn’t obscenely large but it did have a healthy curve to it as it flopped up to hit his stomach. You were practically drooling from where you lay on the bed, eager to get along with the process. Taehyung grinned down at you, taking himself in one hand and pumping slowly.

“Are you ready, little darling?” He murmured, his voice hoarse. “Are you going to let me fuck that tight, little cunt of yours?”

You nodded, eagerly, and he sat back on his ankles so that he was kneeling in front of you. “Then come here and sit on master’s cock, alright?”

He didn’t have to ask you twice.

You got up and maneuvered yourself so that you were hovering over his hard cock. Taking it in one hand below you, you ran your fingers over the velvety surface, gently bending the tip and watching as his face contorted in pleasure and he took his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle a groan.

“Stop teasing or I’m taking over,” he threatened but it was empty. With one hand wrapped around his cock, you knew he wasn’t the one in control here. Gripping him at his base, you slowly lowered yourself onto him, head lolling back as you felt him fill you, inch by glorious inch. You took your time, making every minute count as he stretched you to the brim. When you bottomed out you both just sat there for a moment, satisfied with the feeling you gave one another.

“God dammit,” Taehyung whispered, encircling you in his arms so that you were flush against his chest. “You’re even better than I ever could have possibly imagined.”

He slowly began to roll his hips up into you and you lifted yourself off him in a steady rhythm until you had both established a rapid pace. He was breathing heavy into your ear as he picked up speed, letting out a series of earthy grunts as he fucked up into you, slamming into you with reckless abandon.

You could feel that he was still holding back and you balanced your hands on his chest as you rolled into tempo with him. From this position you were slightly above him and you met his eyes as he looked up at you from beneath dark bangs, his pupils nearly completely dilated and his beautiful lips parted, panting with exertion.

You could die happy right now, filled to the brim with this exquisite man.

When you began to slow down, grinding your hips into his with each thrust to ensure he could strike you deeper and longer he groaned out a breathy “F-Fuuck” and moved his hands down to grip you by the hips.

Before you could react he shoved you back onto the bed, never pulling out, and began to slam into you, scooting you further up the bed with each thrust until your head connected with the pillows at the headboard.

“Heaven-” he grunted, enunciating the word with a harsh thrust and you wrapped your legs around his hips, bracing your arms behind you to keep your head from slamming into the mahogany headboard.

“Be-” He thrusted again, his eyes piercing down at you, his face flushed with exertion.

“Damned! You have no idea how amazing you feel.”

You tried to raise your hips to meet him but his pace was too brutal. Fucking Taehyung was unlike any other sex you had had before. He was insatiable. The feeling of his cock buried deep inside your pussy drove you to pleasures you hadn’t known existed. The tiny sounds he made as he thrusted into you drew responses from you as your back arched up into him.

You could feel him everywhere. Again, maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the desire you had forced down deep inside you for years. But with Taehyung you weren’t just chasing sexual release, although that was part of it. You were chasing a release from a life you had grown to hate. You were giving into your feelings and what you wanted and it felt so damn good.

Taehyung lowered himself closer to you, wrapping his arms up around your back to find purchase in your hair and he tugged a little bit as if he was trying to find a solid grip while he slammed his cock into your pussy sloppily. His pace slowed and he began to roll his hips into you and grind down, emitting a series of low rumbles that had you preening.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you ran your nails down his back trying to find purchase. You did finally, on two feathery appendages that had sprouted from his back.You ran your fingers over what felt to be feathered muscle and Taehyung lowered his mouth to your ear. “That’s right darling, let your master fuck you.”

Wait, feathers?

You released the appendages and your eyes flew open to find Taehyung’s piercing into yours but when you tilted your head to look- nothing was there.

I really am losing it.

Taehyung didn’t seem to notice and he dipped his head down to capture your lips in large open mouthed kisses, his tongue teasing yours as he tightened his grip on his hair, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

It was like you were trying to consume one another, you couldn’t get any closer but goddammit if you weren’t going to try. Taehyung was finally losing control. You could see it in his eyes, feel it in his body as he murmured dirty things on your lips, in your ears.

He had resumed pounding into you, using your body to chase his release and you welcomed it, tightening your walls to urge him deeper, to throw him over the edge. It was working and his words turned into animalistic grunts as he slammed into you again and again.

When he finally began to sputter out of control he bottomed out once again, pushing himself as far as he could go before spilling himself into you with a loud “Fuck”. His body responded in such, continuing to gently roll into you as he came, lowering his sticky forehead to your own.

After he was finished he rolled off the top of you, slowly pulling out with a sickening pop and you felt the loss of him deep in your core. He rested his head on his hands, peering up at where you lay propped on the pillows he had fucked you into from beneath those dark eyelashes before taking a hand and gripping your chin gently to make you look at him. He lifted himself up and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, a slow smile making it’s way over his features.

“Just wait till they get a load of you, darling.”

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