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onceabluemoonwrites · 5 years ago

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Cursed Kiss - Chapter 1: The Cursed Castle

Title: Cursed Kiss Chapter 1: The Cursed Castle

Author: OnceABlueMoon

Rating: T

Pairing: Bianchi/Chrome Dokuro

Tags/Warnings: There is some violence

Prompt: Lightning day: curses for @khrrarepairweek

Summary: The tale of Kuromu Dokuro is an old one, perhaps preceding even the existence of the monster hunters. To think the woman in the tale- the monster she became- is here, in front of her? Bianchi shudders to think of it.

Still, she has no choice. Her grip tightens on the knife in her hand, but before she can start to make her move, Kuromu- Chrome?- raises her hand, shaking her head. ‘’No need to fight your way out, darling, if you want to buy your brother’s freedom. All you need to do is take the geas on in his place.’’

Monster hunter Bianchi bargains her freedom for her brother’s and has to stay in the vampire Chrome’s castle. But the horrors within are not the shadows that whisper and follow Bianchi wherever she goes- no, to the contrary, the horrors are inside the mind of her captor.

AO3 link

Chapter 1: The Cursed Castle

The banging upon the gate is like a heartbeat. It’s so consistent, the battering ram colliding with the wood and steel, the precision almost inhuman. It would make Bianchi laugh, if the fear didn’t close up her throat. She reaches down, taking Chrome’s hand, not taking her eyes off the courtyard before them. ‘’They won’t take you.’’ She says it with desperation colouring her words. ‘’They won’t take you, I won’t let them!’’

She promises it with all that she has in her. It has been so long since she’s felt actual happiness. Now she has it, she won’t let go of it so easily. She’ll fight to the death to defend it, to defend Chrome, if she must.

Chrome laughs and it startles Bianchi. She’s so much older in soul, and yet her body seemingly younger than Bianchi’s. Her gothic dress swishes around her feet, showing her pale, naked feet as she lets go of Bianchi’s hand and begins to circle her, as if taking her in.

Bianchi feels naked. She hasn’t worn her armour in almost a year now. It hadn’t exactly been meant for anything more than hunter raids, far too stiff for the necessities of daily life. It had to be, in order to be strong enough to defend against the monsters of the night. The dresses that Chrome had stored in the castle weren’t exactly the kind that could be worn to battle, but they’d been good enough for a quiet life here. Good enough for spars with Chrome and writing letters to her brother.

God, Hayato. What is she going to tell him if she dies here tonight? He won’t understand. He never did.

Or, perhaps, he is the only one who can understand. Nobody loves monsters as much as her brother, after all, and even if it landed her here, in this moment, she can’t resent him for it. She loves him. She loves him, just as she loves Chrome. Tears well up in her eyes. She hates herself a little for that. This is no time to cry. This is the time to fight.

As all stories must start somewhere, Bianchi’s start the night her mother gets killed. Now you must know, her mother loved her very much. Bianchi loved her mother less, but perhaps that had more to do with how often she had to fish her little brother (her father’s bastard) out of the well after her mother tried to drown him again.

Funnily enough, her mother doesn’t get killed by the beast tearing it’s way through their village directly. There are no bite marks on her body, no slashes through her throat. There is no sign of the were-creature anywhere on her body. No, her mother tried to get away and fell into the very well she tried to drown Hayato in so often.

Bianchi wonders if karma is real, as she stares down at the corpse floating in the water.

It hurts, a little, to see her. But there are many bodies to bury, and her mother is just one amongst the many. She sends Hayato back inside and calls Renato over. ‘’Help me get her out.’’

‘’For the funeral pyres?’’ Renato asks, as he rolls up his sleeves.

‘’No, before she poisons the well or something. We’ve got to drink that water. This is just plain unsanitary.’’

He cocks his head, looks at her, considering, and then says: ‘’Hey, how do you feel about joining the resistance? We’ve always got room for people like you.’’

People like you, Bianchi thinks now, after years, and the resistance. Renato might’ve meant it as a compliment, but it really, really wasn’t.

She joins the resistance with her little brother clinging to her skirts. She’s fifteen, already tired of the world, and doesn’t flinch when they hand her a knife, hand her a bow, hand her a sword and tell her to figure it out before throwing her onto the battlefield. She figures it out in time. She survives.

They give her armour after that, as if now she’s properly blooded, didn’t die at the first raid, she’s worth investing in. She likes how heavy it is on her shoulders. It feels like responsibility. Like a shield. Like she’s protecting people.

‘’Why do you kill them?’’ Hayato asks one night as she tucks him into bed.

Bianchi sighs. ‘’Because they eat people, Hayato. Because vampires drink and werewolves bite and all that bumps in the night is evil. Because they’re monsters.’’

And Hayato, only seven, looks up at her with trembling lips and says: ‘’Must monsters always be killed for being what they are?’’

Bianchi’s heart clenches. Survived again, that little monster? She hears her mother’s voice echo in her head. ‘’No, Hayato, of course not. We only- We only kill monsters that do unforgivable things, okay. Only unforgivable things.’’

His eyes are filled with fear and she can only say: ‘’It doesn’t matter anyway, because you’re not a monster, you hear me?’’

‘’But what if I am?’’ His eyes are brimming with tears and she folds herself around him, hugging him tight.

‘’Then I’ll forgive you everything. Everything you can think of. Anything, any crime you’ll ever commit. I’ll forgive you.’’

‘’You promise?’’ he asks.

‘’I promise, with the force of the moon and the sun and the stars, and the very sky above us.’’

He sleeps soundly that night.

That very promise comes back to haunt her in the spring of Hayato’s fourteenth year of life. He’s nearly at his majority. Fifteen will make him capable of apprenticing properly, whether that is with the hunters or anywhere else, so Bianchi’s let him wander. He’s old enough now, and she knows his heart doesn’t lie within her own profession, the killing of monsters, and she’s hoping that he’ll find something he likes enough to make his living out of it.

Deep inside her heart, she knows he is best suited to be a scholar, smarter than her by leagues, but being a scholar requires proper schooling beyond just an apprenticeship. As much as she wants to give him the world, they don’t have the money for that kind of thing.

He says his goodbyes to her when he leaves to see the great market, to find out if being a merchant could possibly satisfy him. She laughs and ruffles his hair and calls him her ‘almost-adult’. He bears it scowling and all, but the next morning his horse returns without him, and Bianchi’s heart is in her throat.

She goes to the forest.

Now here is the thing: Bianchi doesn’t find the castle until she is thoroughly lost, after she’s killed wolves that attacked her, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, until the rain has soaked her through. She is, thus, allowed to be excused for the fact she didn’t immediately cotton on to it’s aura from a mile away, even though she really should have.

The gargoyles on the roof are ugly and snarling, the grand, French baroque build of the thing in disrepair, as the gate stands tall. It emanates the feeling of magic and it smells like a curse. Bianchi’s never really been able to describe magic in terms other than that. It is a feeling, as well a smell, and curses smell like thorns and rotten, withering roses. The castle reeks of it.

She should have known a place like this would have attracted her brother. She stalks towards the open gate and kicks a side door until it opens up, not trusting the main entrance. The castle is huge, sprawling even, and Bianchi listens for a second, but she hears no sound beyond the rustling of the wind. There are spider webs on the ceiling, and dust flurries around with every sigh of the wind through the broken windows, but Bianchi ignores it as she lights a torch and gets it off the wall. She makes straight for where- logically, seeing the lay-out of the castle- the dungeons must be.

She finds him there, shivering slightly in the corner of his cell. She feels the urge to kick the bars to get his attention, but that would make a large amount of noise, and she isn’t willing to risk that in enemy territory.

Laying into him, now, that she is willing to do in enemy territory. ‘’Hayato,’’ she snarls, trying to keep her volume down, ‘’What in the great blazes where you thinking, going here?!’’

Hayato startles, bumping his head against the wall. ‘’Shit! Woman, couldn’t you not scare the daylight out of me?!’’

She narrows her eyes and glares him into submission. He throws his hands up. ‘’Fine! I was going to the market, honestly. I just… Came across this castle and wanted to talk to its owner? How was I supposed to know she would imprison me?!’’

‘’Maybe,’’ Bianchi hisses through gritted teeth, ‘’Because this place smells like it belongs to a witch or a vampire, and both would like your very human blood? God, Hayato, I thought you were over this!’’

Now he’s looking hurt. ‘’Just because you refuse to see not all creatures of the night are bad doesn’t mean the rest of us have to! And okay, maybe vampires are a little bitey, but most witches don’t hurt a fly!’’

Bianchi’s breath catches in her throat, all her anger draining out of her, making place for a deep, deep fear. ‘’Hayato, how do you know that?’’

‘’Well, maybe I know a couple of witches here and there…’’ he trials off when her head thunks against the bars.

‘’One of these days, I’m going to say goodbye to you and you’re never coming back, are you? Because you can’t see danger when it’s coming straight at you. How many times, Hayato?’’

He doesn’t answer.

‘’HOW MANY TIMES?’’ Her breath turns ragged as the scream leaves her throat. ‘’Did you make deals with them? Hayato, please tell me you didn’t sell your soul.’’

He fidgets. ‘’No… But I did give them a little hair.’’ He sneaks a glance up at her, before getting defensive: ‘’Only a little bit! God, don’t get so worked up about it! Yamamoto might be a basket case but I know he won’t use it for evil!’’

Bianchi wants to scream, but the shadows around them are starting to get darker. Darker, and inkier, running more and more like ink blotting on paper. The owner of the castle is getting closer, and Bianchi needs to know what she’s going to fight. ‘’Who put you here?’’

Her brother opens her mouth, but she knows that look so she cuts him off. ‘’No, what put you here?’’

That’s when she feels icy fingers on the back of her neck. Bianchi freezes.

‘’Wouldn’t you like to know?’’ a voice as sleek and smooth as silk murmers in her ear.

A shiver works it’s way down her spine.

She whirls around and is faced by- a vampire? A witch? It’s hard to make out, with how strong the curse emanates from her. It’s a woman, in any case, skin as pale as that of a corpse, purple bags underneath purple eyes, and hair long and violet, in an half updo underneath her little black top hat. Her dress is black and it blends in with the inky shadows, melding until it seems like she’s wearing nothing but the darkness itself.

‘’Release my brother and I might refrain from killing you,’’ Bianchi hisses, because Hayato is her first priority, now and forever.

The woman starts to laugh, and ah, yes, there they are. Fangs, elongated in her mouth. ‘’You, threaten me within my own walls? Darling, your brother went through the main entrance, and all who pass there are bound to me. No mere human could kill me in my homestead.’’

A trident appears at her side, as if summoned from deep within the castle. Bianchi’s eyes widen. ‘’K- Kuromu Dokuro?’’

The woman smiles, sweet and yet insidious. ‘’It’s pronounced ‘Chrome’, but yes. That would be me.’’

It can’t be. Kuromu Dokuro is an old tale, perhaps preceding even the existence of the hunters. To think the woman in the tale- the monster she became- is here, in front of her? Bianchi shudders to think of it.

That was fine- that was good, in fact. It’d get Hayato out of the way, and while getting a geas on you while not knowing what it was was never good idea, it was better than having an unknown geas on him. ‘’Fine,’’ she barked, ‘’But you get him back to the village safely!’’

‘’Ane-san, no! You don’t like monsters, you won’t like it here at all!’’

She sent him a scathing look. ‘’You’re in a cell, Hayato, I’m taking that geas from you whether you want it or not.’’

She doesn’t look at him as the shadows drag him out of his cell and into the cold, hopefully back towards the village. Chrome darts forwards as the shadows come back, bringing her something that looks like a fallen star. She snatches it out of their grasp, before putting it on Bianchi’s tongue and forcing her to swallow.

It tastes like defeat, and the geas feels heavy upon her heart.

The geas, as she later finds out, imposes a list of requirements that steadily get more curious as they come along: the first she discovers is that she cannot attack Chrome, a reasonable geas to place upon one’s own castle if one is powerful enough to cast one in the first place. The second requires Bianchi to have dinner with her each night. The third, to her surprise, is that the longer she spends time with Chrome, the more the shadows listen to her.

It’s very convenient when she wants a glass of water in the middle of the night. Still a little creepy though, with the way the shadows reach for her at every corner now. But Bianchi doesn’t think she minds.

Spending time with Chrome is, surprisingly, no real hardship. The vampire likes fine red wine just as well as Bianchi does, and she makes a mean pasta. Or the shadows do- Bianchi’s not entirely clear about who exactly mans the kitchen here. She’s never seen a single soul besides her, Chrome and the shadows.

Sometimes she thinks she can hear the shadows cry, a thousand voices crying out for their freedom, but surely that’s just her sleep deprivation acting up again.

Bianchi doesn’t mind the castle, but her sleep is troubled anyway. She’s not used to being away from Hayato for this long, despite her many usual hunting trips.

It is thus, one night, that she decides to get her glass of water herself, instead of asking the shadows to fetch it for her. They push and pull at her, as if trying to prevent her from going towards the west wing, but Bianchi likes the motion of it. Likes how it makes her work to move forward. She’s strong- they can’t hold her back properly, inky and weak to light as they are.

Instead of the kitchens, she ends up in a room she’s never seen before. There’s a portrait, above the hearth, of a man and a woman and a little girl. The girl is looking up to her parents, but her face is stricken off the canvas.

Bianchi knows who she’s looking at anyway. The tale of the princess Kuromu Dokuro leaves no question about it.

‘’What are you doing here?’’ Chrome’s own voice sounds behind her, tired and dead.

Bianchi frowns, turning around to face her. The bags underneath Chrome’s eyes are even deeper than normal, and her violet eyes have turned a deep, wine-dark purple. ‘’I can’t sleep,’’ she says, ‘’Want to throw knives at the chandelier in the main hall and see who can bring it down?’’

Property destruction is one of their favourite games these days.

Chrome shakes her head. ‘’Not unless you want me to slip and drink from you.’’

Bianchi cocks her head. ‘’I thought that’d be part of the geas. The right to drink from me, I mean.’’

Chrome laughs, deep and without humour, a sound at odds with her strangely delicate appearance. She’s so much smaller than Bianchi, and yet, without a doubt, far more powerful. ‘’You know very well that the geas is a rule of three. The three commandments I asked of you are the ones you’ve already discovered. I wouldn’t ask more of you.’’

‘’You’re Kuromu Dokuro, though.’’ Says Bianchi, without thinking.

She pays for it when Chrome flinches back, looking genuinely hurt before her mask slides back on again. ‘’I thought you’d know me better than that, by now.’’

Chrome turns decisively, her skirt flaring out, and leaves her own quarters at a sedate pace. It doesn’t change what it is, though. She’s fleeing.

She’s fleeing Bianchi, and Bianchi doesn’t know what to do, because Kuromu Dokuro is a monster, but perhaps, Chrome Dokuro is not.

If only she’d known that before hurting the person she’s forced to live with.

#khr #khrrarepairweek2020 #day 4 #lightning day #curses #fanfiction #onceabluemoonwrites fic #bianchi/dokuro chrome #bianchi #dokuro chrome

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onceabluemoonwrites · 5 years ago

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Cursed Kiss - Chapter 2: The Cursed Tale of Princess Kuromu

Title: Cursed Kiss Chapter 2: The Cursed Tale of Princess Kuromu

Author: OnceABlueMoon

Rating: T

Pairing: Bianchi/Chrome Dokuro

Tags/Warnings: There is some violence

Prompt: Rain day: Roleswap for @khrrarepairweek

The roleswap pertaining Romeo was certainly interesting to do!

AO3 link

Chapter 2: The Cursed Tale of Princess Kuromu

When Hayato was little, Bianchi would tell him all sorts of tales. Romantic fairy tales, wise fables, cautionary tales. The likes, as all children get them if they have anyone to tell them any story at all. The one story she never told him, though, was the tale of Kuromu Dokuro. Mostly because she herself disliked the tale so much, because it's themes were rather misogynistic, but also because it was steeped in the truth, and the very horror of it was too much for her herself to even think of giving her brother the nightmares about it.

If she would have told him, though, she knows how she would have. It would be cleaned up quite a bit, with far less severed heads than the original, like her own mother had told her, and it would go a little like this:

Once upon a time, in a land very far away from here, there was a princess so beautiful even the stars cried at the sight of her. Her name was Kuromu Dokuro and everybody loved her. The nobles came from near and far to see her, as did the common folk, and all, all who saw her adored her.

Soon came her twentieth birthday, and it was time for her to marry. Princes, kings and even emperors came to ask for her hand. But it was all in vain, because the princess Kuromu did not like even one of them.

Now, you must know, that beauty always has a price. So did the princess Kuromu’s. While she had been born with the utmost beauty, it went accompanied by the most malicious mind. Her beauty was so great it could only be in enhanced in one way: by bathing in the blood of young, virile men. She knew what she was to do.

She set three tasks for her suitors and if they could not fulfil them, they would be hanged at the city gate, before being milked of their blood for her bath. To this day, there was only one survivor of these tasks, and it is his tale that we tell, thus.

On the first day the suitor came before her, the princess said: ‘’Your first task will be a simple one: I ask of you to keep my shears. Give them back to me tomorrow at lunch, and I shall give you your second task.’’

The suitor nodded, took the shears with great reverence. He tucked them into his belt and drank wine with her. Now, you must know, this suitor was quite the jolly drunk. Thus he’d thought it the best that he not get drunk and simply pretended to drink the wine she offered him.

This was, in hindsight, what saved his life that night. The princess claimed to be tired somewhere around eight and send him to his bed. He had not even settled into bed for half an hour when she came in, assured that he was asleep from the wine, and took the shears from underneath his pillow.

Following her silently, he saw her slip out of the castle, and into the caverns below. Blinking, he hid behind a pillar as he heard voices.

‘’My sweet, I have come to tell you of my newest suitor! He is young and handsome, and he will fill my bath so nicely once he’s drained. Now I must ask of you, make sure he never gets the shears!’’

‘’Oh yes,’’ said the man beside her, ‘’I will, my darling, I will!’’

And when the suitor peered around the pillar quickly to see what the man was doing, he gasped at the sight that greeted him. It was the devil himself, who stood there, as Kuromu kissed him sweetly upon the lips before leaving.

The devil locked the scissors into a box and then left to prey upon some unfortunate soul. The suitor, a poor man, had been honourable for most of his life, but he did know how to pick a lock. Thus, he made off with the scissors before the dawn broke and he was expected to rise.

At noon, the princess called for him. ‘’Well, have you got my shears? I am thinking of embroidering after this meal, I’d like them back.’’

‘’Of course, princess,’’ said the suitor and got the shears out of his pocket.

Kuromu smiled at she took them, but her eyes had darkened to a wine colour. The suitor knew she wasn’t much pleased by his survival.

‘’Now,’’ she said, ‘’The second task is not too hard either. See my trident here, I’ll go to the highest tower and throw it from there. If you can retrieve it before tomorrow at noon, I will give you your third task, and mayhaps you will survive this ordeal.’’

Oh, how traitorous her lovely face!

For once again, when the clock struck eleven, the suitor followed her down into the caverns underneath the castle, and she met her lover again.

’My sweet,’’ Kuromu said unto the devil, ‘’You caught my trident, did you not? Last night you failed terribly, that common-born bastard somehow got the shears! This time, make sure he’ll never get it.’’

‘’Oh yes,’’ said the devil, ‘’I will, my darling, I will!’’

Kuromu kissed him sweetly upon the lips before leaving. The devil threw the trident in the fire, sure that it would be destroyed before three hours had passed and then left to prey upon some unfortunate soul.

The suitor hurried forward now both were gone and fished the trident out of the fire, burning his hands as he did so. Thus, he made off with the trident before the dawn broke and he was expected to rise.

At noon, the princess called for him, already yawning. ‘’Well, did you find my trident?’’

‘’Of course, princess,’’ the suitor said, and revealed the trident, his burned hands hidden underneath leather gloves.

Kuromu turned as pale as a corpse. ‘’Very well,’’ she said, a trembling smile on her face as she tried to keep her façade up, ‘’As this is the third task, it is by far the hardest. Bring me whatever I think of, right this moment. If you can’t do that, then obviously you don’t care enough for me.’’ she said.

Oh, what a traitorous woman, that she could play such games!

That evening, at eleven o’clock in the devil’s den, she spoke: ‘’But of course I thought of your head, my sweet, so he’ll never be able to give it to me! Tomorrow, I’ll bathe in blood again and become once more so beautiful that you won’t be able to take your eyes off me! This horrid pallor and those wine dark eyes will disappear soon enough, my sweet. Look forward to me tomorrow night, you hear me?’’

‘’Oh yes,’’ said the devil, ‘’I will, my darling, I will!’’

Kuromu kissed him sweetly upon the lips before leaving. The devil cackled, but before he could leave to prey upon some unfortunate soul, the suitor snuck up on him, took his sword from his side and struck the devil’s head off its body.

At noon the next day, the princess called for him, smiling lively at the meal. ‘’Well, have you got what I thought of? Don’t make me wait!’’

‘’Of course, princess,’’ said the suitor and he threw a bloody lump on the table, covered in fabric. ‘’Why don’t you look at it, princess?’’

And when the princess Kuromu saw her lover’s head when she uncovered it, she began to stomp as she erupted in such rage that her teeth grew longer and sharper until they resembled fangs. ‘’Father!’’ she screamed at the king, ‘’I shan’t marry that awful, horrid beggar! Have him thrown out of the castle at once!’’

But her father, the king, an honourable man, shook his head and said unto her: ‘’Kuromu, my child, you must honour your promises. I have put up with your demands, now someone fulfilled all your tasks, you must marry him.’’

And with great reluctance, the princess Kuromu married her suitor. With great dread, Kuromu approached the wedding bed, and this was how the suitor knew the devil still resided in her. Luckily, the suitor had spent some time in the presence of a good priest, so he knew how to drive the devil out of the poor sinner.

He asked the servants for a water basin, and went to do what any good man would have. He grabbed her by the hair, so the devil in her couldn’t struggle, and forced her underwater. Once, twice, thrice. But the suitor’s hands had been burned by hellfire while getting the trident out, so the cleansing of Kuromu’s soul didn’t catch.

When not even the rule of three freed her from hellish influence, the devil’s severed head surged from the cabinet on the wall and gave Kuromu the power to kill her suitor. The trident flew into her hands and she struggled her way free, spearing him onto the floor. That, though, was not his doom.

The monster known as princess Kuromu bowed over him, and used her hellish fangs as his doom, sucking his blood out of his very body.

Then, she went to castle’s gate and hung his body from it, like all her previous suitors had and went off to haunt the night forevermore, with the devil by her side.

That’s how Bianchi would have told Hayato the cursed tale of princess Kuromu. But she’d never told him, because it was an awful story, and certainly not one she had wanted to tell to a child. Now he was an adult, perhaps, but no. Not even then. Because now she knew Chrome and that made the allusions in the story even more horrid, and Bianchi… Bianchi didn’t know what to do.

So she does what she always does when she’s unsure of herself: she goes to search either confirmation or confrontation, and this time, it’s a little bit of both.

She goes, once more, towards the west wing. The shadows fight her more fiercely this time, determined to protect their mistress, until Bianchi snaps at them. ‘’Quit that! I’m just trying to make amends here, okay? Back off and let me do what I ought to!’’

After that, her journey towards Chrome’s chambers is met with a lot less resistance. She takes a moment to straighten out her clothes- or well, Chrome’s clothes, they’re made for a taller person but Bianchi hadn’t exactly had a change of clothes when she got here. The clothes are Chrome’s by the fact that they’re technically her property, whether she’d fit them or not.

Bianchi shakes her head. She’s going on a tangent to procrastinate. That doesn’t do. She needs to have this conversation and she needs to have it now. She takes a deep breath, and opens up the door. It creaks something awful, immediately alerting Chrome of her presence when she enters.

‘’I’m here for a story,’’ Bianchi says.

Chrome looks tired. Oh, so tired. Exhausted right down to her soul. She’s sitting by the hearth, which is burning this time, opposite that awful painting of what must be her parents and herself, as a little girl. Chrome keeps opening her mouth and then closing it, like she can’t bring herself to speak.

So Bianchi speaks up for her, reading all her doubts and worries in her wearied eyes. ‘’Not the princess Kuromu’s. I know that tale. I want to know yours, Chrome Dokuro, mistress of this castle.’’

Chrome looks at her, looks deep into her eyes, sees Bianchi’s determination and then sighs. ‘’Come sit down.’’

Bianchi does as is asked of her.

Chrome fiddles with the embroidery on her lap before looking up again. ‘’I was young and ready to marry if that was what my country required, though it was readily known that I did not want to. My father permitted me three tasks to give them. If my suitors could not give me all my heart desired, they did not deserve my hand, or so he said. Oh, if only he hadn’t!

Because then the monster came. Every suitor was turned away when they couldn’t fulfil my tasks, and I admit, my third task was a very hard one. But then, bit by bit, every suitor started to turn up dead after he failed to meet my demands. Their corpses, once found, were drained of blood, floating in the moat around the castle. Their bones, the people said, decorated our gate.

It was wretched. I stopped accepting suitors. That was when he started attacking our staff. I didn’t know what to do! Then- then he came. His name was Romeo, and he said he was a soldier looking for a way to climb the social ladder. I guess that’s what I was to him. He kept insisting he wanted to do the tasks. I guess… I guess he looked like an honest sort? Honestly, at this point it wasn’t really about him anymore, it was about my country and my people, and the fact that I wanted to stop the monster from murdering them.

I led him through my tasks. I let him succeed each and every one of them. And then, on our wedding night, I thought I’d succeeded. He was still alive and even if I’d rather not married, I knew I would have to one day. This- this is when my nightmare started.

Instead of laying his hands upon me amorously, as I had expected, he smiled, broad and wide, as he never had before. It was no good thing. It showed his teeth- his terrible, terrible fangs. ‘You,’ he told me, ‘have the most exquisite blood I have ever smelled, and I will have it, if it is the last thing I do.’ And then he took his teeth to my neck.

It hurt. It hurt so much, and if it had just been that, I could have accepted it, even if I would have hated him for being the monster who had killed my people my entire life long. But he didn’t keep it at just that.

Sometimes I asked him to stop. He didn’t drink too much from me, usually, wanted to keep me alive so I’d provide more of his precious blue blood, but some nights, he did. I got dizzy and weak and it got obvious, as my skin grew paler and my body frailer. I begged him, I begged him to stop until I could no more, and then I started to scream.

He didn’t like that.

He asked for a water basin, like he often did when he wanted a bath, but instead of washing himself, he grabbed me by the hair and pushed me under. Again and again and again. ‘That will get the devil out of you,’ he told me.

I despaired. It escalated. It escalated until I couldn’t take it anymore, until I took my trident to his throat and killed the monster that had terrorized us all for so long.

But here is the thing, Bianchi. Curses spoken upon one’s last breath are immensely powerful, and he cursed me with the curse he himself carried. I went mad with bloodlust as the light left his eyes, as I severed his head completely, and drained him of his blood at once. The servant who had brought the water basin, who peeked through the door as the whole thing happened, discovered the body and spread that wretched, wretched tale of the princess Kuromu Dokuro.

I am not Kuromu Dokuro, and neither am I a princess anymore. A princess needs a people, and a people must condone their ruler. They did not, after I murdered my husband. So I lost myself as they moved away from me, desperate to never see the monster I had become ever again. My name is Chrome, and all I am is perhaps the oldest person on this earth, hated for what I could not control.’’

Bianchi is reeling, but still she can’t help but reach out, her hand open towards Chrome. An invitation.

Chrome looks up, with gleaming eyes, ‘’Of course, all crimes I committed afterwards are my own doing, but then again, nobody called me a monster for those. By then they already considered it my nature to kill and slaughter.’’

Bianchi’s hand wavers, then falls. Chrome nods, succinctly. ‘’Ah, I thought that would be your reaction. Don’t worry about your place here, Bianchi. We’ll have dinner every night as the geas prescribes, but I won’t impose on you anymore than that. You don’t even have to speak to me if you don’t want to.’’ She looks down at her hands and shakes her head. ‘’No, never mind, I created that geas. I’ll break it.’’

A strange, sibilant sound leaves her mouth, and a light rises from Bianchi’s throat, forcing its way over her tongue, until it hovers in the air and melts in Chrome’s hand. ‘’You’re free to go.’’

And with that, for the second time, Chrome stands up and walks out of her own chambers, leaving Bianchi behind, lost and alone.

#khr #khrrarepairweek2020 #day 5 #rain day #roleswap au #fanfiction #onceabluemoonwrites fic #Bianchi/Dokuro Chrome #bianchi #dokuro chrome

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