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forkanna · 6 months ago

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NOTES: Happy New Year! Or something. I hope anyone reading this is happy and thriving, despite so many geopolitical, ecological, and economic upheavals.

I've gone quiet because I was working on a very large new fic that will be starting soon, and also just to recover from working on my previous stories, and to take care of some other life stuff. That's why, other than assisting with some friends' works, it's taken me almost half the year to release anything new. Most of you probably haven't even noticed, I'm sure, since my update schedule slowed to a crawl last year.

Believe me, I have a couple of very hefty works that are nearing the completion stage. I just hope the fandoms are alive and interested when I put them out there.

Alright, so I have a deep love of challenging platformers (challenging, not frustrating like Super Meat Boy). I wrote this one quite some time ago and simply forgot, and found it again when sifting through my files. Maybe Sea Of Stars being released will make it still be relevant, even though I'm posting it so long after The Messenger came out. If you've found it, enjoy!

Jessex

[AO3 LINK]

"So how long have you been in this shop?"

"My entire life. You think the shop is your ally? You merely adopted the shop. I was born in it, molded by it. I didn't see outside the shop until I was already…"

"…"

"That would be funnier if you were from where I'm from."

"Okay… but really, you haven't been The Shopkeeper here all your life, have you?"

"I haven't. But I also don't feel any need to tell you about my secret past, so you can probably drop that now. Don't you have a big demon to defeat or something?"

"…right."

"Good. Now go. Let me bask in a few whole seconds of peace before you come back in here and demand to know what's in my cabinet again. Nosy ninja."

"I just thought since we're spending all this time together, it might be polite to get to know you."

"Maybe I don't want to be known. Especially not about my past from before I found my way into this weird little pocket of reality. Definitely nothing about solar and lunar warriors who had to sail between dimensions. Maybe something from the after-time; I could tell you something about then."

"…"

"Do you have any stories to share?"

"Of course, here's one for you."

~ o ~

Stop me if you've heard this one. A monk walks into a bar… wait, not quite right. I'll try it again from the top.

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful monk. Very few ever got to see her face because from the moment she began training, a veil covered the lower half. Not much is known about the clan she came from other than that they trained as hard as the ninjas in their own discipline. A strong clan of true warrior women. They seemed to favour orange; orange gi, orange balaclava, orange slippers. They wear wraps around their forearms and calves that are yellow to match the yellow trim on the rest of their uniforms. Very sunny, I guess you would say. Sunny warriors.

As you probably have been able to guess by now since you keep asking me so many questions, she used to do what you do, back before the warrior from the west passed you the scroll. "Messenger" is what you'd call a revolving door position. Don't ask what a revolving door is; it's pretty self-explanatory, but also pretty horrifying. Much worse than the Burning Crags or the Underworld.

What a serious messenger the Monk was. Way better than you. She might have been your match in terms of fighting ability and athleticism — or similar, anyway — but she didn't let herself get distracted nearly as much. Discipline of the mind is just as important as discipline of the body, you know?

Yes, this is me asking you to stop with my cabinet. Again. You're like a dog with a bone.

She came in pretty often the same way you did, asking the same questions about how to climb up a wall in her way, catch air currents… you get the idea. And she didn't have as many relentless questions as some people, but we would talk here and there.

"It must be a difficult job, to guide warriors like myself to their fates."

"It's a hobby," I joked. I joke a lot. You have to break the boredom somehow. No, it's definitely not a defense mechanism to cover a plethora of anxieties.

"Oh, it is only a hobby?" She bowed, all deferential and polite. Those intriguing twin cones she styled her hair into barely even moved; she must wrap those ribbons — yellow, because why wouldn't they be — very tightly. Or maybe she just stuck them there; detachable head-cones. I've heard of weirder things. "My apologies, I should not have assumed this was your duty."

"Ah, that's… it's fine. So how do you get your hair like that?"

What? Colour me curious.

"Hm? Oh…" It was hard to tell without her veil, but I thought the way the corners of her eyes crinkled meant she was pleased. Her voice was just as reverent and respectful as always, so no help there. "You like this?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's pretty neat."

Her small-but-strong hand drifted up to caress over one of the cones. "Thank you. Many of the men and women of our order adopt such hair styles; they are appealing but functional. Long hair that is not kept in check would interfere with my ability to battle evil."

"Right, of course. I've often thought about doing something with mine, or maybe getting a cool hat."

"A… hat?"

"You know. Sits on top of your head, fashionably keeps the sun off?"

After a second of complete silence in which I really thought she might turn and stalk out of the room, completely disappointed with my conversational skills, she instead covered her mouth and began to let out the most musical, tinkling laughter I've ever heard in my life. And I've met an actual pixie before.

Don't ask to meet a pixie. The consequences are way too catastrophic.

"Ah, I see. Then I hope you will have a hat one day, Keeper of the Shop."

"Maybe." I was trying not to let on that I was having a good time; it's kind of my thing, to act like I'm just sort of aloof and indifferent. "But I can't help noticing you have pigtails, even though the cone-things are supposed to keep your hair out of the way. Fashion over function?"

She reached back to pull at one of the pigtails. "Yes… they are disliked by my master. But she has admitted that I am a more fierce monk with them in my way than any of my sisters are without them."

"You have sisters? Big family?"

"Sisters-in-arms," she clarified with another small laugh.

"Ahhh. Got it, sorry. Anyway, I think they look nice. As long as they don't get you killed by some ugly hell-beast, of course."

There was a slight twinkle in her playful deep brown eye. "They will not."

~ o ~

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"…"

"What? Don't you think that's a nice story? Isn't it cool to find out sometimes I chit-chat with other Messengers because I get super bored?"

"It's not that. I just thought you were going somewhere else with this."

"Where else? I never go anywhere but this shop. Or do I?"

"…right, but the way you described how she looked in so much detail made me think you were interested in her."

"…"

"Wow."

"What?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you speechless before."

"Watch it, ninja boy. It's just that you kind of strike me as the hapless protagonist type, so I wasn't expecting you to pick up on, well, anything."

"Oh, so you WERE interested?"

"…maybe."

"Huh."

"Oh, stop smirking. You didn't find out any great truth of the universe, you just figured out that a hottie made me take notice because I'm not blind."

"So did you do anything about it?"

"Excuse me? That's getting kind of personal, don't you think?"

"No, not really. I think you started telling me about her, and you like talking enough that you might want to tell me more if I ask."

"VERY personal now. And a little rude."

"You don't have to tell me anything. But it's really not that bad for me to just ask you to keep going, right? If you say no, you say no."

"Touché."

~ o ~

Even though you were a rude boy, and a little entitled, I'll tell you about another time the Monk came into my shop. Which was only forever, and not long at all. You'll know what that means one day, after you dance with magic.

The next few visits were pretty standard and all business. Monk wanted an upgrade that will help her take more hits, another that can transform her staff into a whip and back again. It's weird, she seemed to have a lot of trouble making it turn back into a staff… that wasn't supposed to happen, but oh well. Can't always trust Artificer's inventions but he does his best.

Which was why I gave you the rope dart instead. What would you do if you couldn't have your sword back? That'd be epically rough. Especially in the middle of a boss fight. Besides, some friends of mine had decent success with the prototype.

Then one time was a little different. She had just beaten back a throng of exhausting cultists — long story, too long for me even. And you know how long my stories can get. She seemed to need some time to rest instead of heading right back out into the fray.

"Here, take a seat back here."

"Oh?" After figuring out what I meant when I stood and moved aside, her brow furrowed a tiny bit. "Oh… no, I could not take your seat from you. This is your home."

"Well, not my home exactly… but seriously, I know you fought hard out there. Take a load off. You want some tea? Might not have any of the Astral stuff left, but…"

With a slight bow, she said in a flustered voice, "Please, you do not have to be so kind. I will be fine."

Thing is, polite as she always was even though she could easily kick my ass — and I'm no ten-pound weakling and don't you forget that, ninja boy — I could also tell she was dead on her feet. Copping a quick squat wouldn't be enough. So I did something for her that I have never done for any other Messenger, before or since.

I let her see my room.

~ o ~

"This isn't your room?"

"Yeah, of course it is. You see that big canopy bed in the corner, all those Tower Of Time Quarterly magazines on my nightstand?"

"Huh?"

"No, doofus. This is sarcasm; I'm being sarcastic. I can't sleep here if there's nowhere to sleep."

"…sometimes, you're kind of a jerk."

"And sometimes, you're kind of a doofus. Isn't it great that we can work around our differences for the good of the universe?"

"…"

"Moving on…"

~ o ~

Once we went through the secret entrance you don't get to know about because I don't think you can control your curiosity but it's also NOT that cabinet so don't assume so much, Monk let out a soft gasp when she saw how great my room was. Like, I can't undersell this enough; my ancestors really put some work into this whole place and it's gorgeous. Not super big but not small, either; a decent sized suite. Four stars all the way.

"Oh, it is beautiful!"

"Thanks. So, uh, you want anything to drink or eat? You ought to keep your strength up."

She turned from where she stood in the middle of the room, and it was even harder to ignore how she outshone my room. And this is my room; that's just about impossible.

"No, I could not impose. I am used to foraging. While I pass through the forests or the caverns, I will find mushrooms or wild greens, fruits, and prepare them by a campfire."

"Whoa. Real outdoorsy type. That's pretty dope."

"Dope? I am… you think I am stupid?"

OOPS. That not-old-school slang was going to get me in trouble. "No, no! I meant to say, uh… well, nevermind, I meant it's really neat you can do that. I bet you never have to go hungry that way." This badass warrior turned me into an awkward teenager again.

"Oh," she said softly, and I was relieved to see that slight crease in her brow fade again. Good; I already felt like crap for making her feel bad, even for a second.

"I'm really sorry. But yeah, here - I've got… okay." Yes, there was a little kitchenette. Did I not say my room was epic? "Instant ramen; I think you'll like that. Or at least, it'll fill you up and give you that carb-energy so you can do your thing tomorrow after you rest up. Man cannot live by potions and wild mushrooms alone."

"I assure you, I am fine," she told me with that laugh that set all my hair follicles tingling. "I am very grateful for your help, but please, do not go to so much trouble."

So I made her cup ramen. And yeah, you called me out on carrying a tiny torch for her monkness, so I should go ahead and admit that this wasn't exactly your top-tier first date activity. On the plus side, it wasn't like me giving her a place to rest counted as a date at all.

By the time it was finished, she had sat at my little two-person table. Honestly, I had always thought the second chair was a little redundant when I never had visitors, but figured there was no real reason to throw it out. Now I was glad I was lazy. I set one cup in front of her and another in front of the other spot - which actually wasn't my usual spot. But there was no way I was gonna tell Monk she couldn't have my seat. Even if it did bother me, which it didn't, I would have let her sit wherever she wanted, any day of the week.

"Thank you," she breathed with her palms pressed together, bowing slightly to me. She reached for the chopsticks laying across the paper lid.

"Oh - wait, you have to wait a couple of minutes."

"Hm? Why? I thought you prepared the food already…" She seemed uncertain.

"Yeah, but it's still, uh, steeping." I figured if she knew tea, she would get that one.

I was right. "Ahhh, I see. What is it? I believe I smell a broth…"

So I explained ramen. Turns out, she had something kind of similar in her own village, but definitely not the instant kind. Which I figured — for reasons. You're not ready to hear about all that.

"Okay, here," I said when it was done turning into the good stuff. I took the chopsticks and peeled off the paper fully, started stirring. "Just gotta stir it up good before you start in."

"Yes, I see," she said in a very serious tone. Why was it cute that she was serious about this? It wasn't; I just thought she was cute, so everything she did was… I'm gonna stop talking about that.

After I slurped up some noodles, I watched her carefully. Maybe this would be when I got to see her face. It was fine if she wasn't ready, or was shy, or if it was part of her tradition that monks didn't show their faces. I can relate. But if I was allowed…

No such luck. She leaned forward in such a way that her veil hung forward, so I still couldn't see her face but she was free to bring the noodles to her mouth. Then she sat back and chewed. Dang. Still, at least she seemed to like them well enough, if the way her eyes closed briefly in contentment was any indication.

"Not too hot?"

"It is very good, thank you." She let out a tiny sighing noise that may have been a burp; she was that kind of badass angel that could make even that adorable. Literally goals. But I noticed she was staring at me very intently.

"What?"

"What more can I do? Against the Primal Fear. I would really like to conquer it very soon, and help to restore peace."

"You're not ready," I told her simply, even though I was a little distracted by that thumping noise. What was it? Oh — right, it was my heart.

"I am ready. You have told me yourself that I'm the strongest Messenger you have ever seen. Is it not my duty to go and stop this darkness, so no others need to die?"

"Oh, if only it were that simple." Wow, it was so hard to endure the intensity of those eyes staring through my soul. I almost felt like I wouldn't make it. Before I knew what I was doing, I reached across the table to rest my hand on top of her clenched fist.

"Give it time. You have trained harder than anyone I've ever met, but training isn't the same as out there doing the real thing. Kick a little more butt, take a few more names, and you'll get there. You'll be ready for the Primal Fear someday."

A little at a time, the tension in her posture began to ease. I really expected her to say something like thanking me for putting everything in perspective, or for her to argue with me about it again. Instead…

"Do you like to… touch my hand?"

"Do I huh? Oh." After an awkward pause, I took my hand away. "Sorry about that. Probably should have cut that out once I was done saying my thing."

"You do not need to apologize. I'm beginning to think you care for me."

"A-ahh, well that's not-"

"I care for you, too."

Well. I'm really damn lucky she cut me off, because I had been about to deny everything. It's not my job to hit on The Messengers; it's my job to make sure they carry the scroll, that they don't come back as corpses. Even though I didn't really want to lie to anybody, it was way smarter not to get feelings complicating the whole arrangement.

Except she went and said that. Went and told me I wasn't the only one.

"Y-you do?"

"Of course. You have been so helpful to me, so wise and generous. I could not have come this far without your guidance. What kind of monster would not grow to care for you?"

I'm looking at you, ninja.

"Aww, I'm just doing what I can…"

Leaning forward intently, she said, "You must have been a very strong Messenger. I would love to spar; there is so much we could learn from each other."

"Spar? Really? You and me? I, uh… I might be a little out of practice." Not very. I mean, I still tried to keep fit, even though there's only so much you can do standing behind a desk in the shop all day. Still, I knew I couldn't drop my guard entirely; any day I might be called upon to step in again. I just hoped it wouldn't be for the usual reason.

Monk finished off another slurp of her noodles and sat back to nod eagerly at me until she was finished chewing. "Yes! Even if you are, I am sure I will still learn much!"

"Well… if you wanted to go now, we could. Probably better now than after we finish all our noodles."

"Oh, will they not grow cold?"

"I can heat 'em up again, no sweat."

So we got up and paced into the middle of the room. Have I mentioned how happy I was that she was taller than me? God, tall women are absolutely goals. She took up her staff and pointed the business end at me, though her head tilted to one side after a moment.

"You will not take off your robe?"

"Oh. Yeah, that would probably be good, even though I don't really need to." We had all trained to fight in those big blue robes. I mean, if you can't fight in your uniform, then it's obviously a pretty crappy uniform for an order of mysterious warriors, right?

When I took it off and draped it over the back of my chair, I heard a quiet noise from Monk. Of surprise, maybe? I hoped not of disappointment. But when I turned back to look at her, she was all business, ready to start smacking each other around.

"You okay?"

"Yes," she confirmed with a dutiful nod. "I am ready when you are."

So we did the martial arts thing. I'm sure you know how this goes well enough that I don't have to explain. I wasn't all that surprised that she kicked my butt from here to Glacial Peak, but I did at least put up a pretty good fight first. At some point, I tossed aside my belt and we both kicked off our shoes, and we went a lot harder than you would probably think I could, anyway. We traded bruises and bloody lips and we loved every minute.

Eventually we collapsed back into the chairs with two cups of cold water in front of us that I had grabbed before giving up on being able to move for a little while. Even though I couldn't see her mouth, Monk looked elated.

"You… have fun beating me up? Huh, bully?"

She seemed alarmed by that accusation, even if it wasn't serious. "I… I am not!" But then we both laughed breathlessly. That old thing about really getting to know somebody when you fight them? I guess it was pretty true, even though a good cup of tea and a long conversation will do a pretty similar job for you.

"Was only kidding," I panted a minute later, when we had caught our breath and downed some water.

And I know this is probably getting annoying, but if I thought she was the bee's knees before… with her face flushed and chest heaving, sweat matting her hair slightly — not to mention the strength just radiating off her in waves…

"Keeper?"

"Huh?"

"I asked if we could have a rematch another day," she repeated, eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement. I got distracted way too easily; maybe it was because I had burned up my ability to ignore how good she looked while sparring with her. Yes, normally I can keep my eyes on the prize, but watching how gracefully she fought… it tested me more than the sparring.

"You… bet we can." Another sip of water to coat my suddenly-dry throat. "Sorry… I was supposed to let you… rest."

"It is alright. You do not need to worry about me; I can resume my mission now."

"No, no way. Stay, finish the noodles, take a shower and grab a nap. Or, I mean, in whatever order…"

But Monk was already shaking her head. "I cannot take that much time away from my mission. Great evil will not wait to be vanquished; it will punish the world until we stop its progress."

"Actually… it can wait."

"What?"

"Okay, so this might be a little high-concept for you, but…" Normally, we would put her through the big challenge and unlock some new abilities — don't ask, spoilers and all — once she had proven herself before she got to know any of this, but I could give her a few basics. "Time stands still in here. More or less. So when you're in here, it's like everything has stood still out there."

The Monk blinked a few times, sitting perfectly still.

"Think about it this way; imagine you're on a surfboard-"

"No, no, I already think I understand. I am just… confused as to how this can be true. You also will not tell me where this really is, and why I can come here from so many different doorways. It is magic, yes? But what kind of magic can be so powerful?"

Damn, that would teach me to underestimate a badass amazonian warrior monk.

"That's… a secret. You might find out someday. But yeah, take a load off, rest and recuperate. Then you can head out in the morning, ready to kick primal caboose - and it will be like you never left. Trust me."

Chuckling a little at my wordplay, she said, "You are… very kind." Then she took another long drink. "Very well. I will do this, because there is wisdom in what you say; if I am exhausted, I will stumble, and cannot be the best hero for our world that I can be."

"There ya go. That's all I was trying to say."

"Do you have a hot bath? It is very good for relaxing the sore muscles."

~ o ~

"What a player."

"Hey, watch it, kid. I didn't 'play' anything."

"You got her into a bath."

"Uh, yeah, in another room. I promise, not one second did I spend in the same room as the bath. I saw nothing."

"Hmmmm."

"Do you want to hear the rest of this story or not?"

"Actually… I'm not sure. It's starting to sound like it's too personal for me to hear."

"Oh."

"What?"

"No, you're just always such a busybody that I kind of expected you to keep drinking this up like Kool-Aid."

"Like what?"

"It's… don't worry about that one. One day, you may be ready for the legend of the Purplesaurus Rex. I'll skip ahead a tiny bit."

~ o ~

Or a lot.

Like I said, not a dang thing happened other than me giving her some hospitality. Yes, I got to see what she would look like in a blue robe after her bath, which was kind of exciting in a weird way. It was like she was closer to me because she was becoming part of the Order — even though that was a ways off. Still gave me a little cold chill.

Monk had been through quite a bit by the time there was another shift. We sparred a few more times, shared meals and conversations. And she came back battered and scarred, I put her back together. She slid me all the Time Shards she found in the past and I did what I could for her with them. We were definitely friends, and probably somewhere in the best friend category, no matter what the Artificer says about him and me. The Prophet is actually his bro.

And she underwent her Trial. More on that for you when you're ready.

Don't give me that look. Be a big boy and wait your turn.

God's honest truth was, it hurt my soul a little to see her becoming a bit more jaded. Not a lot; don't get me wrong, she was still the strongest Messenger I've ever known, and brave, and like a ray of sunshine in a Dark Cave. But I could see the cracks forming in her heart that anyone got when they faced great evil day in and day out.

That's why I tried to give her so many breaks. More and more often, she would sleep on the futon I got for her, since she had outright refused to use a real Western bed; said it wasn't good for her back. I've heard it both ways, but didn't want to argue. And we laughed, trained, ate, and generally got very comfortable with each other. Even though to her, it was like we only met up once every few days. But to me, I saw her all the time — not that I'm complaining, of course.

My Monk had just come back from a particularly brutal battle in which she managed to restore Rivière Turquoise to its former glory. This time, I wanted to surprise her with something a little fancier. Don't ask me how, but I got my hands on some damn good sushi, and a bottle of sake. I knew she didn't believe in imbibing alcohol while she was on mission because it dulled the senses and ability to react, which I can't argue with, but I also knew this one was going to mean she needed to rest up and recuperate more than usual. I was grateful to steal more time with her whenever I could. Oh, I wasn't going to do anything to force that, but I sure as hell wasn't going to fight against it, either; I would just appreciate every moment we had together.

Remind me to tell you the story about the crystal pumpkin patch sometime.

She was leaning pretty heavily on her staff when she came in. I felt my stomach drop. Was she going to make it? I hurried out from behind my desk and helped her along.

"I am fine," she hissed through her teeth.

"Liar."

"I do not lie! I… I will be fine. That is the truth."

"Yeah, well… can you tell me what hurts? Your leg?" A reluctant nod as we entered my sparkly, sparkly room. Like, seriously, if you ever saw it you wouldn't be able to get over it, man. "Alright, we're officially giving you a vacation."

"I do not… want…" But a heavier wince made her bite her lips and nod. "Yes. I do not want to… fail at our mission, so I will… do as you say."

"Thank you. And hey, it's not gonna be so bad. Do you… do you wanna eat? Maybe you're not in the mood to eat."

"I must," she told me with a half-snort. I was sure she was smiling, even though I couldn't see. "If I am to heal, I must have nutrition, yes?"

So we ate. I made sure the sake was hot, both to soothe her aches and because like, it's supposed to be hot. Cold sakes are a different thing. Anyway, she told me all about her fight to help bring her buddy, the Butterfly Matriarch, in and dispel all the creepy crawlies. Fun stuff, but I'm trying to avoid that story-within-a-story thing so I'll just say she's kind of amazing. In case you haven't figured that out already.

"Ohhh, that was perfect," she sighed as she relaxed back against her chair.

"Thanks. I ordered it myself."

"So modest. You still wished for me to have this wonderful meal. I feel… appreciated. Cared for." We shared a smile, even though neither of us could see the other's mouth. We just knew. "And a little affected by the cups."

Trying to tease, I said, "Oh, you got drunk? Off just that?"

"Not 'drunk'," she huffed playfully. "I said 'affected'."

"How affected, then? Do you wanna take a nap before we get you that hot bath?"

"No. I just want to continue to speak with you, and to relax. We can do both of these together." I could see her glance at me, then away. "My arms are very sore."

"Yeah, I bet they are."

Another tiny hesitation. "I might want some help washing my back."

"Oh, right — I have a back scrubber. It's just mine, so I didn't wanna assume you would want to use it after me. Some people are funny about sharing stuff like that."

~ o ~

"WOW."

"Listen, I know you are probably all suave and cool with the ladies, Mr. Forever Alone Ninja, but I definitely didn't have any game. And hanging around alone in a shop for years on end doesn't polish that social skill, either."

"Right, but even I know when someone asks for help with washing their back, they don't mean they just want you to get them a brush."

"Yeah, yeah…"

"No, no, it's kind of cute."

"Excuse me?"

"You act so all-wise and all-knowing all the time that it's nice to hear you being very human."

"I do not act like that."

"You totally do."

"No. I'm just serious about my job."

"Then why are you always sharing stories about your eternal wisdom?"

"Not once have I said 'eternal wisdom'. I just like to contemplate the complexities of the universe, and try to unravel a few of them. I think every well-rounded mind does the same."

"Well, I don't."

"Did I stutter?"

~ o ~

Anyway, if you're through interrupting… yes, she did blink stupidly at me as if waiting for me to catch up. You might be rude, but you're not wrong.

"You… want me to…?"

"I apologise," she breathed with a low bow, her balaclava brushing the table just in front of her plate. "This was too forward of me."

"No, no way! I only… I didn't want to make any… yeah, I'm not good at this kind of thing."

"At washing another's back?"

"No, at…" I stopped when she started to giggle. "You're mocking me. Great. I really am the world's biggest idiot."

"You are not. But I think it is sweet that you do not want to… corrupt me, perhaps. You are so wise and your heart is so pure."

Trying to make myself keep talking before her praise really caught up to me and the stammering began, I blurted out, "Yours, too. I mean, you really are the best person I've ever known in my life. And I've known persons."

We both laughed a little at that last part, starting to relax. She rose from the table with some difficulty, and I was quick to put my arm around her, and hers around my neck, helping to support her as she made her way into the bathroom.

"In our temple," she began to tell me as I turned on the tap to fill the tub with hot water, dumping some bubbles in distractedly, "there is no modesty. Our order is only women, and there is nothing to fear. The males of our clan are much the same in their temple, though they are not warriors in the same way we are."

"Matriarchal society? That's pretty neato."

"We also… will take lovers, at times. Some from the other temple, some from the same temple. Some from both. All is equal to us."

The way she spoke as she began to unwind the bindings around her forearms and calves was very careful, contemplative. I could see her watching me for reactions, as if hoping I wouldn't freak out and say she came from a bunch of weirdos.

"That sounds like an amazing place," I reassured her. And I meant that from the bottom of my heart.

"Yes. One day, I may take you there if it is possible. They frown on visitors inside the temple, but I could show you the grounds."

Why did that sound like a dream come true? I mean, even though taking a tour of a hidden monk temple where they trained the world's best badasses would be cool regardless, going with her… "Yeah. Maybe once all this settles down, we can do that. Sounds like one of the best places ever."

"I have always felt this way. If not for my calling, I would love to finish my days there, making our order the greatest it can be."

"Must be nice." When I saw her reach for the lapel of her gi, I turned away and put my hand over my eyes; never can be too careful.

"You are shy."

Called out. "Well, nah. It just… it's no big deal where you're from but it is where I'm from. Especially for complicated reasons I won't go into. So I'm just gonna… not."

"I respect that," she told me deferentially. There was a quiet splash, a few more noises of shifting around in water. "I am covered. You added soap to this bath?"

When I turned back and saw that she was, indeed, up to her shoulders in suds, I let out a sigh of relief. Laugh if you will, but I was already all twitchy just from the situation as it was; I didn't think I could handle more than that. "Well, it's a special soap."

"What makes it special?"

"The way it looks and smells," I answered honestly. "I thought about bath-bombing you, but I don't have any on hand, and I already made a special trip for the sushi."

She looked over her shoulder. Of course she still had the balaclava on; even in the bath. Weird but it seemed to be a thing. "You would cause my bath to explode?"

"Oh… no, it's… nevermind." I pulled up a tiny stool and perched it behind her, picking up the soap and a washcloth and dipping it into the water. Would music be too much? I did have a jukebox… no, I decided it was too much. "Hope I'm not getting too irritating."

"Irritating? In what way?"

"Demanding you hang back and rest. I know you know it's important and don't need me telling you; I'm really not trying to parent you or anything."

Her head shook very slightly as she reached up to begin undoing her head-cone-things. That surprised me; since she left the veil on, I thought those would stay in place, too. "It is not a bother. Sometimes…" She hesitated, both with words and actions. "Sometimes I do become focused on my task and I forget to rest, especially when the task is so great."

"Oh, I don't think it's so great," I tried to joke. She only looked puzzled; I had to stop doing that. "I mean, it's rough that we have to put you through this. Crucial for our survival, but rough."

"Yes, I understand this very well. I know you would not wish to put anyone in danger if it were not important."

All I wanted was to keep my mind focused on the task at hand, and on our conversation. Not on how strong and graceful her back was, her shoulders, her slender neck… honestly, that "broke the mold" joke is stupid. I usually hate it. But with Monk? Yeah. There aren't any others like her in at least five space-time continuums — and that's just how she looks.

"Keeper?"

"Hm?"

"I said that your hands are very gentle. Was this the wrong thing to say?"

"Sorry," I laughed nervously. "Normally I'm more eloquent than this. I blame TV."

"Tee-vee?"

"Nevermind." Ugh, I said I was going to stop doing that! All she was doing was being her usual self and I was tripping all over myself like a noob. "Thanks, I'm… trying to help as best I can. It's not just a job, it's an adventure."

At least that dated reference just sounded like a normal phrase.

"This is not so adventurous," she said with a soft chuckle, her eyes smiling at me. Smizing; I got Monk smizing, I was stepping on cloud nine. "But I would have it no other way."

"Yeah, you don't want to have to jump over spike pits on your downtime, too."

"Not this. I meant…" She turned carefully in the water — I could tell it was out of respect for me and how shy I was, trying not to make me see anything I wasn't ready for. Honestly an angel. "It is an honour to share this quiet peace. I sense the sweetness of your soul, and the pains that have brought you to this place and time. Even though I have met your brothers, I do not feel this connection I feel with you."

~ o ~

"You have brothers?"

"Don't worry about that."

"I'm gonna worry about it."

"See, that's the problem with you. Even when I give you what you've been clamoring for, this extremely private story, you still complain that I'm not giving you every last niggling detail. You must be a riot at parties."

"…"

"Now stop interrupting."

~ o ~

Actually, you know what? You need to learn that actions have consequences. Even unintended actions. In this case, nagging and interrupting and generally being a bad listener aren't even unintended, so we're skipping the rest of the bath. No - don't make that face at me, you spoiled shinobi. I had a rhythm going and you threw me off, so I'm just going to advance to the next checkpoint. Maybe if you were a better audience I'd teach you how to do that in your mission. It's actually super easy.

Nope, too late now. You played yourself.

Once she was clean and I was glad I had my hood up to hide my glowing red face, she had changed into a spare robe and I tossed her outfit in the laundry. Like, that was the least I could do. We sat in front of the fireplace — hey, there's a fireplace — and relaxed in silence for a little while. When I got anxious, I put on some music from the jukebox; might as well.

"Ohhh, this is very interesting," she told me as she sipped from the water glass I also got her. Yeah, I'm a real charmer, pulling out all the stops. "I have not heard music like this before… I am not sure how to feel about it."

"Yeah, it's called hair metal."

"It is made from metal and hair?" When I was just silent, she laughed. "I am sorry. I have sensed that you are from a very different world from mine, and I am not familiar with your customs. But I have seen how you try to accommodate my ignorance."

"No, no, not ignorance. Just… okay, yeah, that is the right word. But it's only because you've never even had the chance to see my world. I'd give you a crash course, but I feel like it would be a lot of random stuff you just don't need, especially when you're trying to focus on the mission and all."

Monk crossed her legs comfortably. When the hem pulled up past her foot, I had a random thought: that bare ankle would really get me going if I was from a bygone period of history… but then I realized that I was in a bygone period of history from my own perspective.

Yes, there's your big spoiler: I'm from an advanced civilization. You should be able to figure that out by looking around this shop.

"And after my mission?"

"What?"

"When I am finished battling the Primal Fear and any other forces of darkness; when I restore peace. May I return to hear about your world?"

I don't know why this caught me by surprise. Honestly, it shouldn't have; we got along pretty well, but I still was shook. "You'd want to come back?"

"Of course. Are we not becoming friends?"

"Yeah! I mean, of course, I could consider us pretty good friends by now. I just didn't want to assume… I mean, it could be a work-friends deal."

"Work-friends?"

"You know, we're comrades-in-arms. Doesn't have to mean we want to hang out after the war is over… but I would, for sure," I was quick to reassure her. I didn't want to even leave one second in which she thought I was done when this was done.

"Ahh, yes, I understand this." She bowed her head slightly. "Thank you for considering my feelings. Even if…"

My heart froze as I waited for her to respond. Finally, I said, "Even if…?"

"Even if you do not understand them. I thought I was making them clear. But I know it is perhaps not what you expected — especially from a woman. Our masters teach us that not everyone's minds are as open as those of our order-"

"I'm gonna stop you there. Where I'm from, most people are open like that. A few are still stuck in the bigoted past of our own region, sure, but… you're not scaring me off. In fact, I…"

Now it seemed to be Monk's turn to hold her breath. I felt bad seeing her lean toward me a little and whisper, "Yes?"

"Sorry. I've actually never felt like this about anyone before. Didn't think I could. So I just… normally I know what to say, but I never developed this skill."

"Do you?" She looked away slightly. I mean, the opening of her hood did; I could tell even less what she was thinking or feeling with that hood up. Makes me sympathize with even you. "I had told myself that my heart was foolish. You were not from our world, your women did not accept feelings from women, or… you only felt friendship for me. I would have understood."

"Oh, same, same," I reassured her quickly. "We really- sheeze, this is some sitcom BS."

"Hm?"

Leaning over, I took one of her hands. Hard as it was to push through my hangups and self-esteem issues when it came to this kind of thing, no way was I going to leave it up to Monk to make every move. This was about both of us; it should be both of us moving forward. I might look lazy sitting behind my counter all day every day, but no. I'm not lazy. I don't believe in laziness at all.

"If you're sure… then yes. I'm right there with you."

Her breath caught, and her other hand came up to hold onto both of ours. Her hands were somehow both soft and rough; a result of her being so gentle but training so hard. I kinda loved that.

"Then we are here together."

"I guess so. I don't know where 'here' is gonna be, but I'm… I am absolutely ready to find out if you are."

Monk laughed at me a little as we both stood up. "This is a simple journey, Keeper. I have traveled it before, though the destination was a parting. Perhaps with you… we will not part."

"So, a lot of guys in your past?" I guessed. She shook her head. "Girls?"

No comment. Instead, all she did was push our hoods together and…

~ o ~

"What, no interruption?"

"Are you kidding? You made it pretty clear I was interrupting too much before."

"Wow. He CAN be taught."

"But I do have to confess, I'm… surprised about a couple of things."

"Go on?"

"Well, first of all… you know."

"What?"

"…"

"I mean, does it really matter? Whichever of the two things that are immediately coming to mind. I don't think either of them matter in the long run."

"I suppose it doesn't. Especially since we're supposed to be worrying about defeating evil, not morality."

"Morality. Right."

"But I hope you two are happy together."

"Yes, well… that's another story for another time. Not this one in this time."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's fine. I haven't even explained the rest of what happened. But you should probably get going; there's a lot of violent jerks out there to take down."

"Yes, I do want to stop the Demon King. But take care of yourself, alright?"

"Always do."

"And I'll be back for what happened later."

"Oh, I know. You never seem to get enough of these stories, no matter what I do to discourage you from asking me to tell them. So I'm sure I'll see you again soon."

"I'm sure you will."

~ o ~

Okay. He's gone. I wasn't about to tell that little pervy ninja all the sordid details; it would distract him too much from the mission. But you? I guess I could let you hear the rest. Obviously you're still here, so you must have an insatiable curiosity.

No, not the ninja. You. Can't you tell I'm talking to you now?

All the Monk did was push our hoods together and ghost her lips over mine. Such a simple start to something so powerful. My experiences were very limited but I knew enough to know this was bigger than anything else I had experienced before.

That was without my poor brain trying to figure out how in the hell I got Monk interested in me. Monk. We didn't even know each other's names! I know that in the end, a name can only tell you so much about a person, but it still seems like some kind of prerequisite for a meaningful relationship.

"I have been too forward."

"No, no," I was very quick to reassure her as my hand moved up to rest on her shoulder. "Just forward enough. One of us has to do something or we'll never get anywhere."

We stood awkwardly for a long moment, trying to figure out where to go from there. We shared another kiss, a little longer, a little more firm. Her lips were as soft as the pressure was strong, and I was living for that contrast. Our hands explored each other's bodies through those blue robes that served a function we both felt was becoming increasingly unimportant in this current moment.

"How… will we proceed?"

"Huh?"

Voice coming over a little shy, she continued quietly, "I… think you have figured out by now that you cannot see my face. My clan will not allow it. And neither will yours, is it not true?"

"It's… discouraged, yeah." My fingers ghosted over lips I could not see in the darkness under her hood. "And I really wish that wasn't the same, because I bet you're the most beautiful woman on the planet. Maybe a few planets."

At least I could make her laugh. But the laughter turned sad towards the end. I knew she was fighting certain feelings and needs warring within herself, and I wanted nothing more than to push a button and solve that war for her. No human as phenomenal as her should have to endure such inner conflict. But the world is a crappy place sometimes.

"We… cannot. But perhaps if there were no lights…"

She had a good point. That was about the only way we could probably move forward. So I reached both hands over my head… and clapped twice, plunging my room into utter darkness save for the dim flicker of the fire in the fireplace.

"What- what is this magic?"

"The Clapper. It's an ancient artifact from another reality; pretty mundane stuff there. But if you ordered one, they would give you a second one for free - you just had to pay separate processing and handling."

"Oh I see. I should not be impressed, and so I am not." The playfulness in her voice sent a tingle down my spine. "Have you trained in darkness to sharpen your senses?"

"Yeah. It's been a while, but…"

Maybe I imagined it, but there was a slight lilt in her voice as her hand slid down my forearm to take mine. "I will lead you."

She led me. Even though she had only been in my room a handful of times, she pulled me through the darkened room over to my bed as if this were her room and I was the guest. I don't know about you, but that kind of confidence does things for me. Butterfly-stomach things.

"Can your clapper extinguish the fire? There is still some light."

Knowing it was corny as hell, I leaned in to whisper, "Nothing can extinguish my fire." At least it worked; she kissed me again with no waiting, hands clasping at my back and shoulders.

The best part was, we both forgot to care about anything else as the passion roared, our need to be as close as we could be overpowering our caution and duty to preserve our secrets. Or modesty for that matter. The firelight was low enough that I still couldn't see her face; just outlines of shapes. But I knew if I could see more I would think her no less beautiful than I already did.

Even with our hormones cranked to eleven, there was a brief intermission once we were bare to each other and our bodies pressed flush.

"Oh? O-oh."

"Monk-"

"I… I see. You truly are from another world."

"Sorry, I know I might not be what you expected. Say the word and we can put those robes back on, or I can go check to see if your gi is dry."

I more felt than saw her head shaking as she kissed her way down my chest. "Do you think I cannot rise to such a simple challenge as this? How you underestimate me."

"No, never. I'm just trying not to overestimate me."

"You do not," she breathed kindly against my hip before kissing it. And that was it. No messy overreactions, no long talks needed. We connected and it was pretty great.

Acceptance can mean everything sometimes.

Not to get too detailed, and I'm still not going to get as detailed as you might wish I would, but neither of us is known for slacking off exactly. We were fit and we were determined, and it took a couple of hours and a dozen different positions before we were both satisfied completely. Even then, we still lay panting on our backs with some of our limbs entwined, not wanting to be too far from each other.

"Well… that was a thing."

"It was a very good thing. I… I am relieved that I did not do anything… which did not please you."

"Huh? Oh, it's all good. I'm not even usually that interested in, uh, in this. But you're different. You… make me want so much more."

Monk rolled to curl her form around me, and I tell you what, I almost started it all off again. I wanted to, and felt like I could have, which is pretty rare for me, to be honest. She just felt that phenomenal. "I am different?"

"N-not in a bad way. Not at all."

"Yes. Well, I feel the same for you; I am… delighted at our differences. Exploring this with you was very enlightening, and… and I have very much enjoyed every revelation."

Man, when was the last time I smiled this much? I don't know. Probably never. "Right back at you." Experimenting with a very unfamiliar action, I kissed her temple, and she hummed her appreciation. So that went well, I guess.

"You have given me so much. Today, you have given me something twice."

"Oh, so that was twice. Cool. I wondered if… well, you made beautiful noises and all, but it didn't have to mean-"

"It did mean this," she reassured me, and we both laughed a little. "I have another question."

"Shoot."

"It is really alright for me to rest? I feel restless, as if I must confront the evil right now. But you have assured me that time will not pass here. If… this is really true…"

I turned to face her. In the dark. Why? Don't ask me, it was a natural reaction. "Yeah, it is. Why, what's up?"

"Then I would choose to stay with you for another day."

"Why?" Another automatic reaction; I tried to fix that. "I mean, u-uh, yeah. Yeah, definitely. There's no one to come into the shop since you're the current Messenger, so I don't really have to go to work. And… there's nowhere else I'd rather be than this bed, with you."

Listen. It might have been a line, but some of that stuff just comes out naturally when you catch the big L-word. And I was pretty sure I was terminal.

"You cannot mean this." She hesitated, then pressed that goddamn hot yoga body right up against me even harder. "But if you do, only after passing one night together, then I will stay."

"You'll stay," I agreed, unable to believe my ears. "A-and, uh… don't worry, we'll robe up again when we have to move."

"Thank you. I want to see your face, and I have known your desire to see mine is strong. If not for the ways of my clan…"

I nodded. "Yeah, I get it. And it's not as hard and fast for mine; more like a suggestion to keep things clean and easy. But it only feels right that we both respect it so it's not, y'know, one-sided."

"Yes, I understand this feeling. But if you wanted to show me, I would feel no anger."

"Noted." That teasing hand between my thighs made me hiss, "Wow, you are- this is more than I expected."

"You are more than I expected. And you are ready for another… sparring session?"

"I, uh… I really don't think we should call it that." Feeling bold, I moved my hand to the corresponding area on her body, and I probably enjoyed her gasp of surprise a little too much. Oh well. "Seems like we're in the same boat."

I could just barely hear a laugh — because she was busy rolling over on top of me, kneeling, her hips over my hips. Then to my surprise, she started raising one of my legs up to drape over her shoulder, shifting herself sideways until she was positioned above my thigh still resting on the bed. And if that doesn't paint a good enough word picture for you, well, I'm not going to try again.

"You are familiar with… the Splitting Bamboo?"

"I… I, uh…" I had read the Kama Sutra, yes. Did I remember every position? No. I just never imagined I would need to know them for any reason, at all. Not until this phenomenal Monk entered my life and did her best to turn it upside-down.

"You will become familiar with it. Tonight."

Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy…

EPILOGUE

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what? That we're playing Twenty Questions? Oh — right, because we're not doing that."

"That you were sending me off to fight your ex-girlfriend."

"You know what? This, right here. This is the reason you're not even my favorite ninja from the village. Rock Lesieur would have been way less of a pain in the tail…"

"…"

"Fine. Yes, the Queen of Quills is the Monk. Or at least… I'm certain of it now."

"You weren't before?"

"Just had a fairly strong feeling she was."

"Shopkeeper, I will search for a way to get her out of that swamp."

"Marsh."

"What?"

"It's a marsh, not a swamp."

"What's the difference?"

"Swamps have more trees. In fact, they should have a lot of trees, while marshes usually just have shrubbery, et cetera. And fungi, as you probably picked up on."

"Oh. Wow, learn something new every day."

"Don't try to sound smart now that you just had your ignorance gap filled."

"…okay, I'm going."

"Wait."

"What?"

"Thanks. For offering. I don't really believe there is a way to save her now that she's been so far gone for so long, but… maybe the fact that her form is…"

"…"

"Nevermind. I'm not getting my hopes up. Just go do what you do best."

"I'll try. See you soon."

"Fingers crossed."

~ o ~

Listen, I know I'm a little harsh on the kid. But he needs it if he's ever going to be a big strong Blue Robe.

A little bow on top of this story — just for you, not for him. The last thing a guy like that who already has a swelled head needs is yet more swelling. Therefore, he doesn't get to know the full details of this ending.

We did the thing. Every last scrap of evil we could find on Messenger Island had been eradicated. And of course, the issue was, there was no time while we were busy trying not to wind up as scurubu-chow for my old flame and I to reconnect and decide how we felt about everything. Crazy how near-apocalypses can kill the mood like that.

While everybody was patting each other on the back, and old Phantom was trying to catch up on all he missed thanks to the efforts of the Artificer and the Prophet's conversational skills, I managed to steal Monk away to my room — where Ninja still couldn't follow us. Don't worry, he and Iron Hood were chatting about collectible figurines or some crap; they were occupied. Nobody was a total wallflower in this we-defeated-Demon King-finally celebration.

"Keeper of my Heart!" she breathed as soon as the door was closed, throwing her arms around me. That familiar weight, the firm muscle beneath her soft, well-worn gi, breathed new life into me that I hadn't even noticed was absent when she was absent. It was like a rebirth.

"Shhh, shhh," I soothed her when I heard the tears begin. Someone so strong and she was breaking for me… or maybe she was strong enough to break around another person. "I got you, Monkey. Oh geeze, I missed you so much…"

By the time we could actually talk again, I had brewed us some non-Astral tea and we were sitting in my new chairs. Oh yeah, I got new chairs; they had slight cushions to the seats. I decided there was no reason to sit on rigid wood when you could add a dash of comfort. At the same time, I didn't want to add too much comfort, or they would be… you aren't listening. You stopped listening and at this point, I'm almost entirely certain you are skimming through this paragraph to see where the next interesting development comes about. Fine, I guess I won't mince words, since you don't appreciate them anyway. Unless you did legitimately read this far, then all is forgiven, naturally.

"Have you told the others?"

"Huh? Told them what?"

She dipped her head the tiniest bit in chagrin. Shoot me, but that was the cutest thing ever. "Of who we are to each other."

"Are? I mean, I haven't seen you in… it really has been a long time. Even here. So I've just been mourning on my own time, when I haven't been hand-holding that cloud-stepping goofball out there."

"He is not so bad," she laughed softly, her balaclava rustling slightly as she looked down into her cup. "After all… he made it possible for you and I…"

She had me there. I leaned forward on my forearms to whisper, "I would babysit for his kids for the rest of my life if that was what it took. And I hate kids."

"Ah, yes, I remember you mentioning this to me. No matter." She took a contemplative sip before setting the cup down on the table. "Keeper, I want to tell them."

"Tell them what?" She just blinked. "Oh, about that. Why? Do we really need to complicate things by-"

"I am proud to be close to you. For us to have paired our hearts together for all time. Are you not proud of the very same?"

Well, when she put it like that… "That's not what this is. Of course I wouldn't mind having the hottest Monk in the world on my arm, but I kind of also… like… it's silly."

"Tell me."

"I like having you all to myself. My little secret — me being your little secret. But…" I sighed, turning my own teacup. "You're right. It's been fun, but we lost too much time. I don't want to waste more trying to be cagey and sneak around, when we can just come out to everybody as here-and-queer."

"We are coming somewhere queer?"

"Hey, we tried that once, and it was uh… different," I half-joked. But then, of course, I did the legit explaining. "But this time, what I meant was, uh, that we aren't a 'traditional couple' according to some people. They might look at us funny. But I would never let that stop me, and I know in your culture it's not even a thing, anyway."

The corners of her eyes crinkled in vague bemusement. And love. It still struck me temporarily dumb to see so much affection in those deep, contemplative eyes of hers.

"I know you would not. For you are far braver than most of those who wear the blue robe think. I know that if your ninja had failed to save me, you would have done it yourself."

"Oh yeah? And how do you know that? You act like I'm just such a useless gay that-"

Her fingers were suddenly covering my mouth, which she found so easily despite the presence of my hood. Closer and closer, she slid as she pressed me down into my chair, and I was so mesmerized by her eyes…

…that I almost missed a magical new detail. The faintest hint out of the corner of my eye of beautiful lips, ones I still had yet to see until that second, forming words that spawned brand new butterflies.

"Not useless. Never useless to me, Keeper of my Heart."

Then she was kissing me, and I couldn't worry that I had seen more than I should have, or that she was going to be mad, or that her clan was going to throw her out, or any of that. All I could think was that she was beautiful, she was strong, she was wise, she was… everything. Whatever crazy notion made her think I was worthy of her, it would be really stupid to look a gift-horse in the mouth.

Because against all the odds, I had my Monk back. That was the gift that kept on giving.

Which is the end of this story. There are other stories, about her donning the blue robes for good, and then there was this thing with an alternate dimension because their Corrupted Future was trying to spread, and those two worlds… but I'm putting a pin in those. Not even you could handle most of them, anyway, much less my hapless Ninja friend. Maybe someday, you'll be ready.

And not just for the stories.

Just promise me, when it's your turn… don't be so oblivious you can't figure out the scroll is a map. I mean, seriously, who doesn't open a scroll when carrying it for days on end? Some people are just born clueless. Don't be those people.

Be like my Monk. Flawless. Yeah, do that.

THE END

#A Monk Walks Into A Shop #forkanna writes #The Messenger #The Messenger fanfiction #jess the writer #one shot #oneshot

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written-in-flowers · 4 months ago

Text

Her Soldier: Demon!San x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Incubi!San x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst MINOR DNI

Word Count: 14k

Summary: Injured during a mission to protect Lucifer's child, San begins to doubt his dreams of having his own someday. It's only your comfort that convinces him it's not all pointless.

Tags: polyamorous relationship (m/m/m/f) bisexual!demonline, graphic depictions of violence, serious injuries, scenes of child birth/child labor, blood, blood and violence, angels vs demons, religious imagery, underage storylines, mentions/allusions to underage violence, implied child neglect/abuse, crime, mentions of childbirth death and complications, fluffy vanilla sex this time, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, breeding kink, breeding.

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Previously on Pretty Lady

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***

He’d never seen anything like it before. The young woman laid on the stone table in the torch lit room, sweat gleaming on her body and blood oozing from her legs. Dark hairs sticking to her forehead, her face squeezed tight as she made attempts to push the child from her. Women wearing black cloaks stood around her, dabbing cold cloths on her forehead and encouraging her to breathe between pushes. One sat at the edge between her legs, gloves on her knobbly hands as she urged the woman to keep going. Around the room, monks in crimson cloaks held black candles. Her cries drowned out their low chanting, an incantation to welcome the new babe into the world. San couldn’t keep his eyes off the mother. She looked so young. She couldn’t be any older than you, and here she was harboring the greatest responsibility a servant of Lucifer can bear.

His seed.

He’d heard people around her say how lucky she is to be pregnant with Lucifer’s child; it is a high honor to carry the King’s child. They tell her that she will be the mother of a powerful lord, who will take over the world and rule as a living god. He heard one midwife talk of Lucifer’s other children, and how successful they’d become. Very few women have had the privilege to carry the new Antichrist. She should be thankful for this child’s birth is a slight upon The Almighty. San knew he’d be more worried about not dying during the birth than the honor of being chosen.

“Your first birthing ceremony, son?”

The soldier beside him leaned over and whispered, not catching anyone’s attention. San almost didn’t hear him. He saw more blood staining the mother’s white dress. San shed more blood than either of his brothers, but this was different.

“Yes, sir.”

Hector chortled. His former commander stood in bronze armor that popped against his green tinged skin. His horns, white and ribbed, curved from the top of his forehead and his wings remained close to his back. He stood several inches taller than San, and much wider too.

“Is it always this…bloody?” he asked, watching the midwife reach forward.

“Yes, sometimes bloodier depending on the woman,” he replied. “It is an honor to be here, Choi. Not just anyone is chosen to protect The King’s offspring.”

“I know.”

The messenger came to the Black Keep with a royal summons from His Majesty to San. San thought it might be to perform a demonstration in the frozen palace in the ninth circle, since he’d done it before, but he’d been wrong. Lucifer had impregnated another follower, who was due any day. They’d chosen him and others to protect the mother and child. His brothers begged him not to go.

“You could die, San. You could actually die if an angel gets their sword in you.”

“Please, decline. You can tell him that while you are honored, you cannot accept. San, you’d be going to the living world and you’d be facing holy magic. That can actually kill us. Do you hear me? A holy blade can and will kill you.”

“Sannie, don’t go.”

Your plea had been the softest of them. Even if you didn’t fully understand the gravity of the situation, you didn’t like the sound of it. The look of concern in your eyes haunted him as he stepped through the portal into the living world. He found himself memorizing your kiss when they arrived at the church. Standing in the circular room, watching a young woman give her life for her master, you kept rushing to his mind. It was possible that this birth would be successful and he'd go home to you. But, the likelihood of a fight was also possible. Every soldier faces the risk when they head into battle. San knows once he picks up his sword, he agrees to the fight. There’d been a time in his life where he’d join without hesitation, but that changed when you arrived.

The image of you sitting across from him, laughing at one of his jokes and engaging in conversation, brought comfort to him. In a world of blood and pain, you’d become a beacon of warmth; the candle in the window or the light in his valley of darkness. When he first looked at you upclose, seeing you in the soft firelight, he felt you slip through the chinks in his armor. He still thinks about the vision of you on the soft sheets, soundlessly sleeping next to him the morning after. He’d wanted to stay holding you a bit longer. San wanted to know the beautiful “human” who’d wandered into his life so unexpectedly. He’s thankful you’d decided to stay so he can keep digging for more.

“Father,” the midwife turned to the coven leader, “There’s something wrong.”

“What’s wrong?!” the mother panicked hearing this, eyes wide with fear as she looked between them. Neither priest or midwife answered her, but instead quietly spoke to one another. “What is going on?! What’s wrong with my baby?!”

San’s blood ran cold. He watched the pair continue talking before the priest went to retrieve a black bottle from a nearby altar. He bid the mother to drink it, telling her it’ll save her child. San saw him bring the bottle to her lips, and she gulped it greedily. Thin crimson trails leaked from the sides of her mouth, not going to waste as she wiped them. Suddenly, she screamed. A terrible, painful scream ripped through her chest and out into the world. Bony fingers gripped the sheets underneath her, and her toes tightly curled inwards. The midwives encouraged her to keep pushing, even as her screams turned into guttural snarls. San’s eyes widened as that final push ended in high pitched squeals drowning her out. The coven members awed and praised her as the head midwife pulled the squalling babe from her.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hector asked, wiping his eyes. “I always cry at these things.”

“Yes. It’s wonderful,” San said in a monotone voice.

The midwife wiped the blood and matter from the baby, and San finally caught a look at it. Skin the color of snow, he saw small hands and feet kicking around before being swaddled in a blanket. The mother beamed happily, laughing as she held her baby to her naked chest.

“She’s beautiful, Francesca,” smiled the midwife. “You’ve done well, my child.”

“What’s her name, Sister?” asked one of the attendants.

“Gisella,” the mother sniffled, unable to stop her happy tears. “Her name is Gisella.”

Francesca kissed her daughter’s forehead, not bothered by her small claws or dark red eyes. San knew once the child grew, the human features would start appearing. He wondered if any child you two had would be the same. His heart fluttered imagining you in her position, holding his child and crying tears of joy. It was unlikely you’d want children or a family, since you never showed interest in having them, but he knew you at least liked babies. You smiled whenever you saw one in the street, and some friends of yours had them. The dream of you carrying his children, being a mother to them would be a dream.

“Choi,” Hector called to him from the birthing bed, “Come see her.”

In timid steps, San approached them. The stench of blood grew thicker, but the sight of the newest Antichrist took his attention away. The baby had His Majesty’s sharp nose and round eyes, but her mother’s lips and chin.

“Congratulations,” San said kindly.

“Thank you,” she smiled, immediately looking back at her baby.

“His Majesty must be informed at once,” the priest said.

“I’ll have one of my men go inform him…” Hector said, but San tuned him out right away.

An unnatural breeze blew in from the nearby tunnel entrance. His entire body moved into action. In an instant, a figure in bright gold armor appeared from thin air, raising their longsword to slash at San. He blocked it with his own sword, then swiped at them. The angel, with their large feather wings, lifted into the air and more of them appeared. Then, the battle began. San and Hector stood by the table while their fellows fought off those at the entrances. The angel who’d attacked San came at him again, but a swing of his sword to the midriff and then to the back of their wings wounded the celestial being. San then blocked another angel’s sword, kicking them right in the chest and stabbing them in the gut. All the adrenaline he’d held back came at him full force. It fueled his fast, precise movements, causing his heart to pound in his ears and made him hyper aware of his surroundings.

“Beat them back!” ordered Hector, who blocked an angel’s sword. “Protect the babe!”

He could not fail. If the angels managed to get their hands on the baby, they’d never see her again. One angel flew and landed on top of the table, reaching for Gisella, but a slice at the back of their ankles crippled them. San then stabbed them right in the neck, blood spurting from the wound and the angel clutched their neck as they fell. He had no time to observe.

“Can you stand?” he asked Francesca, who shook her head.

“Take her,” the young woman cried, handing Gisella to him. “Please, take her.”

“Take the baby and get out, Choi,” Hector ordered.

He gently took the baby from Francesca, and held it close to him. Due to all the noise and commotion stimulating her senses, little Gisella’s shrieks nearly blew out his ears. San, unable to use one arm, swung his sword at any enemy he came across through the tunnels. The portal back home was on the other side of the church, underneath the Vatican streets. Urgency pushed him forward, and panic had him holding the child close to his chest. He moved through the caverns until he reached a large room where seven demonic statues stood facing the center. Yet, right as he reached the very threshold, one of the angels grabbed him by the metal arm guard and spun him away. San lost his grip on Gisella, who floated in the air before being caught by an angel.

“No!” he screamed, scrambling to stand and rush at the man holding Lucifer’s child, but was then countered by another soldier.

The burning heat of a holy blade seared his skin, sinking further into his body. All the air in his went out in a single gasp. His muscles constricted, but he maintained his own strength. As the pain took over, San reached for the dagger on his belt. The handle carved with serpents slithering towards the rose pummel, San sunk his blade into the angel’s exposed neck. Blood poured out from the angel’s mouth and artery, while more bled out from San’s side. The angel fell first, laying flat on their wings as they struggled to stay alive. Demon blades held the same power as holy ones. Falling to the ground, San took deep breaths on the stone ground. Each one burned, and he felt them start to choke him. He grabbed at the wound between his ribs. His vision started to blur and blacken, but he blinked it away. Images suddenly flashed before his eyes.

Hongjoong smirking and winking as he stole a grape from San’s bowl.

Seonghwa smiling widely, a book in his lap and the sun beaming behind him.

The three of them sitting in the lounge, chattering and laughing together.

And you. Wonderful you. Your eyes are bright with happiness as flowers grow all around you. Face down on the floor, the stone scratching his cheeks and arms, he held onto images of the four of you. The sounds of his enemies fleeing with the squealing baby became muddled and inaudible to him. He thought of your laugh, sweet and cheerful. He’d promised to come home. More pain shot through him as the magic took over, sapping more life from him.

“Choi!” he heard a voice say from nearby.

Before, he would’ve been glad to be dying for his king. He’d feel honored to die fighting. Not anymore. Now, he wanted to live. San only groaned, rolling onto his back. He struggled for a breath, clutching onto each one as it may be his last. He told Seonghwa he’d be back in no time. It’d been almost a month. Hands grabbed at him, and he left the ground.

He told Hongjoong not to worry; that he’d been in tons of battles before.

He told you he’d be fine. He said he’d be home before you knew it.

Promises he’s unable to keep. San clung on to every breath, feeling the pain it brought and the hollowness of his chest. The sudden nothingness of the portal sucked more precious life from him. He heard voices all around him. Bright lights burned his eyes. Where were you? He wanted to see you. He wanted to see his brothers. Several hands laid him on a firm surface, and small wheels could be heard underneath him.

“You’re going to be alright, son,” he heard Hector’s voice. “You’re going to be alright.”

His Darling, who brought so much comfort to him. He’d never known real comfort until he ended up in Hell. The couple he’d been given to gave him the bare minimum. The witch, Hyeon, and her servant, Heechul, took him in as a baby and never told him about his true identity. He’d only learned what a family was when his brothers took him into their home.

Darkness came over him the moment the cart stopped. He forced himself to stay awake, despite the blood filling his lungs to choke him. San wanted to see you. He needed to see you one last time.

“YN…”

****

“Wake up, you stupid boy!”

The world came to him in a blur. He blinked back the rays of sun peeking in between the cracks in the curtains. Outside his doorway, he heard the other tenants starting to rise from their corners of the shared room. The stench of sweat, illness and filth sunk right into his nose at the first breath; he coughed it out as he did every morning.

“I said ‘get up’!”

A swift kick to his ribs took the breath from his chest. San curled inwards on the thin mattress, groaning as the pain subsided into a dull ache. Kicks to the stomach hurt more without any fat protecting it. Immediately, the boy stood up from his bed on heavy legs. Ahead of him, a skinny woman with messy black hair in a bun walked away from him to a rickety dresser. He watched her start slipping into a ragged chemise and stockings. In a corner of their small area, a man in rags sat passed out against the wall. The dark bottle beside him told San he'd drunk too much gin again. He recalled Hyeon and Heechul’s argument last night, and the latter likely drowned his sorrows in the drink. The yellowish puddle around him made San’s stomach churn.

“Daniel!” Hyeon screeched from her cot, using his English name.

“I’m up.”

He picked up the gin bottle from Heechul, and finished it off. The pure liquor stung his throat, but relieved his thirst and woke him up right away. All around him, he heard people starting to rise from their beds to begin their day. He saw Mrs. Cimorelli pulling on the top layer of her dress. His eyes scanned over her slim figure, taking in her soft curls and olive skin. A shudder went through him when he recalled a few nights previous, when he’d offered her his last bit of coin for a suck. His age, fifteen, didn’t matter to a whore like her. San snapped back into reality when a sharp hand hit the back of his head. This caused Mrs. Cimorelli to turn her head. It took her a moment, but she smirked when she realized he’d been watching her.

“Filthy lout,” Hyeon scoffed, pulling on her worn out boots. “You’re going to catch a pox one day, boy. You mark my words.”

“Ah, shut up, you ol’ cow,” he snapped back, rubbing where she’d hit him.

“You're lucky I got work, or you'll get more than a clout on the ear. You get yourself right and get going. The overseer will deduct your wages if you’re late.”

San glared at her. He'd grown used to it since arriving in New York. Whenever she started barking about work, he thought of telling Hyeon they’d do better starving back home than starving in a new country. Though, she’d quickly retort with, “There aren’t any jobs at home.” He’d then tell her fortune tellers and mediums did just as well in Korea as they did in New York.

When Hyeon turned her back, San quickly snatched the lump of bread she had hidden under her blanket. Taking a bite of the hard lump, he glanced back at Mrs. Cimorelli as he passed her. Her small wink and smile warmed his blood. If he made enough, he’d give her another go if he caught her on the street that night. San walked past the other tenants in the small apartment space, nodding to those he knew and turning from those he didn’t and walked outside. In the stairwell, he heard the hustle of the morning crowds. He heard and smelled everything around him. He heard babies crying behind closed doors; he caught Mr. And Mrs. Wang arguing about Mr. Wang’s drinking again; he saw Daisy, Irene, and Sarah walking up the stairs from their night on the streets.

“Morning, Handsome,” Daisy, straight black hair in a messy braid and dress slightly askew, smiled at him. “We missed you last night.”

“Sorry ladies, I had places to be,” he said apologetically as he walked down past them.

“Will you be out tonight?” asked Irene, a red blotch starting to bruise on her peachy skin. “You know I always save space for you.”

“If the boss lets me,” he winked, walking down the steps to the next floor.

The best thing about New York? The girls. Back home, girls shared the conservative, modest views of their parents. The women in the brothels looked tempting, but they didn’t service teens. The ladies he’d met in America did him as long as he had enough money.

Coming out into the street, San took in the sights and smells of New York’s Chinatown. It wasn’t strictly speaking only Chinese people. A melting pot of different ethnicities and races lived in the small community, working and surviving off meager wages. Those with a bit more sand did jobs for the gangs around the city. When he first arrived, San got a job at the textile factory working the looms. It was a dangerous job for a skinny boy who barely spoke English, but it was better than the street. Of course, any money he made went directly to Hyeon, who claimed to spend it on ‘keeping them above ground’. Heechul worked in the fish market, coming home stinking of fish guts and stagnant water every day, while Hyeon was a seamstress who told fortunes on the side. It was when he beat down two thugs trying to rob him that he caught the attention of crime boss Lee “Benny” Siwon. Siwon led the gang known as the Black Lotus, a gang known for smuggling, theft, and drugs. He offered San a place in his gang.

San had been working for him ever since.

Making a right turn down an alley, he passed through a market street where vendors peddled their wares. His stomach growled seeing the fruits and vegetables being left out. He bypassed a fruit vendor, and with a deft hand, took up the topmost apple in the pile. The vendor never noticed. Nobody noticed. He waited until he’d gotten a good distance before he sunk his teeth into it. The sweet juice filling his mouth pushed back the constant seed of hunger. San could never take food home, otherwise Hyeon split it and gave him the small pieces. One might think a new country with better opportunities would make the old witch turn over a new leaf. It’d done nothing.

San finally reached a small restaurant nestled between a butcher’s shop and a chemist. The black lotus sign hanging above the door told people who ran these streets. He walked in with a small smile, seeing people already at tables and servers taking orders. The boys sitting at a nearby table took notice of him first, all of them smiling and greeting him. He shook hands, and took the shot of gin that they offered. As the boys went back to talking about their various runs, San lit a cigarette and took his first puff of the day. Any minute now, Siwon will send one of his thugs to give them various jobs for the day. Everything from passing on messages, picking up or dropping off products to theft and beating people up could be assigned to any of them. San hoped he’d be sent on one of the more important jobs for once. Things like stealing from rival gangs, picking up money from extorted business owners, or roughing up people who owed money paid much more. Siwon promised he’d give him a chance one day, but ‘one day’ is too far away.

“Hey boys,” a tall man with square shoulders and an oval face approached them. In his tailored pin-strip suit, he looked like any ordinary gentleman.

“Shoiming!” the boys cheered, clasping hands with the older man.

“I got your jobs right here,” he said, holding up a few papers. "You know your streets. You know your marks,” he began passing items to certain boys, “Get the job done fast, you get paid even faster.”

Shoiming handed everyone a slip, and San looked at his. From the scrawled handwriting, he saw mostly pick ups and drop offs. He sucked his teeth. Pennies again. He supposed low wages were better than none. He stood up from the table, holding his cigarette in the corner of his mouth, as he tucked the paper into his pocket. It was then that Shoiming stopped him by the shoulder. For a split second, San thought he’d get a scolding for his reaction, but the large man didn’t seem angry.

“Do your work quickly,” he said, “Siwon has a big job for you tonight.”

“Really?” San’s eyes lit up. “What is it? Smuggling? Roughing up?”

“Something like that,” he nodded. “Go on, now.”

San walked with a pep in his step the rest of the day. While Hyeon thought he was at the factory, he was really jumping from place to place. He handed off packages and messages that couldn’t be sent through official channels. He bought and sold the items given to him by various vendors. San even took time to go into the fancy part of town where he picked pockets. He’d gotten away with a decent loot: a gold pocket watch, a few coins, three rings he lifted from a shop, and a snuff box he stole from a fancy lady. Siwon will be so impressed, he’ll take him on the big jobs. By nightfall, San felt nervous and excited. He came back to the restaurant with his loot and messages.

“Good haul,” nodded Shioming. He took the pocket watch, two rings and the snuff box. “Siwon’s not here. He told me to tell you to meet him at Flannery’s Hall. It’s on King’s street, not too far from here.”

“What’s that? Some kind of club?”

“Yes, now hit the bricks. Don’t be late.”

He left right away, going down all the alleys and side streets until he reached King’s street. The nightlife started buzzing to life around him. New York never slept, he’d come to learn during his time there. Back home, everything grew quiet once the work day ended. That wasn’t the case in this new country. Life kept going even as the moon reached high into the sky. He liked that. He never grew bored or anxious in the hustle of the city. Walking down a row of clubs and bars, San stopped outside the one with the sign ‘Flannery’s Hall’ written on it. He only stopped because his stomach twisted tightly. A pair of women’s boots hung on the newel post leading down into the building’s basement. San tried not thinking anything of it as he walked through the doors.

Once inside, a new world unfolded in front of him. In the small bar, he saw men sitting and drinking at tables with pretty girls. Except, most of the ‘pretty girls’ weren’t girls at all. They were boys in girls’ clothes and wigs who’d powdered their faces. In various stages of dress, they moved about the room to their marks while one “girl” sang up on a stage in a falsetto voice. San’s insides told him to run, but he knew better. Siwon didn’t like people who didn’t follow orders. He walked up to the bar where a young man stood handing out mugs of beer.

“Excuse me,” he said to the man, “I’m looking for Siwon. My boss said he’d be here.”

“Nah, I ain’t seen him,” the barman replied.

A lie. He likely didn’t trust San. Most white people didn’t. He huffed and turned to the room. San tried not noticing the boys around him. He found them to be beautiful in and out of their dresses. He supposed them dressing as girls made it easier for their customers to stomach their desires. San preferred boys who looked like boys and girls who looked like girls. Of course, he kept that bit to himself. If Hyeon knew, she’d kick him out for sure. She’d rather he be stealing than selling himself to old men.

“I know where Benny is,” someone said to him.

In a very short night dress and stockings, there was nothing hiding the fact that they were a boy. Blond hair cropped short, he wore a thin robe that barely hid the naked flesh exposed underneath. He sat on the bar stool next to San, light blue eyes sultry and flirtatious, and leaned closer.

“I can take you to him.”

“What’s it going to cost me?”

“For you? Not a dime. I’m Lucy,” he said, “Benny and I are pretty close. I can get you in with him.”

“He asked me to come,” San said.

Lucy paused, his seductive stare breaking for a brief moment, “Huh, alright. Come with me, handsome.”

Lucy walked him through the bar’s main floor and up the stairs. He tried ignoring the workers servicing their clients or sitting in their rooms waiting for the next one. San enjoyed a good brothel, but something about Flannery’s Hall disgusted him. Not the boys or the girls, but the clientele. Old, wrinkled men who want things that real girls would not do. He saw one man in just his trousers come out of a room holding his shirt. Even after being with the person inside, he still sized San up with hungry eyes. He nearly vomited before moving onwards. Lucy led him to a series of rooms on the third floor. These rooms weren’t much quieter either. His body grew numb. He regretted coming here.

“Do you know what he wants?” he asked Lucy, keeping the nerves out of his voice.

“What every man that comes here wants.” He brought San to the last room and turned around, “Just relax. It’ll be over a lot quicker than you think.”

He blew San a kiss, and walked away. San could run. He could turn tail back home and pretend he’d gotten lost. He can say he got picked up by cops. But, he knew Siwon. The old man would see right through him. It wouldn’t be his first time with a man, but those had been different. He didn’t do it for money or by force then. San turned the knob, took a deep breath, and went inside.

“-And I told him, ‘Sure you can have it, but let me tell you, this snuff bites back!’”

Siwon sat in a well furnished room with a group of other well-dressed men. He stayed frozen by the door, counting down the seconds before someone saw the young, good-looking boy in the doorway. Siwon lifted his head first, gleeful and sucking on the end of a cigar, and smiled at San.

“San! There you are!” He stood up and walked over to him, patting his shoulder. “I worried you might’ve gotten picked up.”

“I ain’t a whore,” San heard himself say defiantly. “I ain’t sucking anything I don’t want to suck.”

Siwon appeared stunned by his words. “What?” he said in disbelief, but then it came to him and he laughed. “No, no, Sannie. You don’t have to worry about that. That’s not why I called you here.”

“It’s not?”

“Hell no,” he said. “You’re a good looking kid, San, but my girls have to be delicate and pretty. You’re too rough for that kind of work. Nah, I got a better job for you.” He put his arm around his shoulders and brought him closer to the men, “You see these men?”

San nodded, and he immediately noticed their fine suits, pocket watches and shiny shoes.

“They’re some friends of mine from uptown,” Siwon continued. “I told them I’d show them a good time while they’re visiting our little corner of New York. Now, I got the ladies and the booze, but we need the entertainment. That’s where you come in.”

“I ain’t following, Siwon.”

“This,” he gestured to another boy on the other side of the room, “Is Tiny.”

Tiny stood much taller than San, with muscular arms, legs and chest. In nothing but a pair of trousers, he might’ve been mistaken for a grown man if the face didn’t give away his age. San saw the faint scars on Tiny’s bronze skin, and the scab on his lower lip. He gulped down his nerves when the truth came out.

“And you’re going to fight him.”

****

“San? San? Can you hear me?”

The voice came to him through a blurry haze. A gentle hand touched his face, and he instantly swatted it away. He pictured Siwon, the old man who’d caused his death, hanging over him with disappointed eyes. He’d lost the fight. Tiny beat him to a bloody pulp and he landed in the hospital. It explained the pain coursing through his body, starting at his torso and radiating across the rest of him. A low groan escaped him as a rough hand cupped his face.

“San, wake up,” a familiar high voice said, not in the usual forceful tone but tender and calm. “Wake up, Sannie.”

“I’m sorry,” he coughed, the breath he took hurting his chest.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” they said. “We’re just glad you’re home.”

“San,” a female voice spoke to him. Hyeon? No, not Hyeon. Someone whose voice calmed every nerve in his body. The other person moved away as the woman came closer. “It’s me,” she said, “It’s YN.”

Opening his eyes at last, he saw you next to his hospital bed. Your eyes, puffy and red, stared at him worryingly. The girls in New York looked nothing like you. They had bruises or scratches from rough customers, and they carried that New York bred toughness about them. You had sand, but softness too. If he’d met you then, he would’ve tried keeping it straight and narrow. He’d get an honest job and marry you. That’s what couples did back then; they got married. But then, he wouldn’t know who and what he was.

“YN…” your name left him in a hoarse croak.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you sniffed. “We’ve been so worried about you.”

“I’m okay,” he said unconvincingly.

“You got stabbed in the lung and started choking on your own blood,” said Seonghwa. “You aren’t okay.”

“What?”

Then the truth came to him. The birth. The angels. The baby. “Where’s Gisella?” he asked, panicking. “Did we get her back?”

“Gisella?”

“He means the baby,” Seonghwa told you. “They lost her,” he answered San’s question. “The angels got away before we could get her back.”

He’d failed. Once again, he’d let somebody down. “What happened after?”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” he said. “You stay here and rest.”

“What happened?” he asked more forcefully.

“They brought you here,” Hongjoong answered. “Hector told Lucifer they’d taken the baby, and, well, losing a kid isn’t great news.”

“You’re lucky he doesn’t blame you,” Seonghwa said. “The guy’s lost so many Antichrists that he isn’t surprised when the angels take them away.” He paused, looking down at his younger brother. “Let’s give San some breathing room. We’ll come back later, Brother.”

A pair of lips touched his forehead, and another hand ruffled his hair. San reached out for you, grabbing your sweater. “Stay,” he said, though felt himself dozing off again, “Don’t go.”

“I’ll stay here.”

“Until they kick you out,” noted Hongjoong.

San heard footsteps cross the linoleum floors and a door softly close. The scent of oranges caught in his nose, and he inhaled it until his lungs hurt. Your fingers pushed hair from his forehead, giving him a way to catch your hand.

“I thought you’d died,” you said in a whisper, afraid to break the quietness of the room. “When you didn’t come home after a week, I thought something happened to you.”

“The birth took longer than expected.”

“It made me think of what it’d be like without you,” he heard your tears thicken your voice. “I don’t like it.”

“I wouldn’t prefer it either.”

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” you said, sniffling. “You hear me?”

“I’ll try.” He felt you rest your head on the bed, still staring at him with watery eyes. San hated seeing his Darling cry. “Please don’t,” he said. “I’ll be okay now, Darling.”

“I can’t help it.”

He cupped your cheek and wiped a stray tear. Whatever painkiller they’d given him slowly took over again. He didn’t let go of you, worried about where he might end up.

“Just sleep, Sannie,” you said, kissing his inner wrist. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

****

He should be in pain. The bones Tiny broke with bloody fists should be cracked and poking through his skin. Blood should be dripping from the broken teeth and cut cheeks onto the floor. His jaw, his arms, and shoulders suffered so much pain that they must be in pain. Yet, when he opened his eyes, he felt barely anything. Only a dull stiffness in his muscles remained. A soft groan pulled itself from his chest, which did not feel broken or torn apart. He forced himself to open his eyes, but immediately regretted it.

“Welcome,” a man’s voice said from nearby. It didn’t sound like anyone he knew. “Name?”

“Huh?”

“Your name, son. What is your name?”

“Daniel,” he answered with his English name.

“Your true born name, please.”

“San.”

“Surname?”

“Choi.”

He blinked the pain from his eyes, and took in his surroundings. He found himself on a cold, hard floor. Looking around, he saw empty chairs in a carpeted room. When he glanced upward, he saw a man in a purple suit standing behind a window like a bank teller. Except, this wasn’t a bank.

“Choi San, Choi San, Choi San,” the suited man looked through a thick, leather bound book. “Date of birth?”

“July 10th, 1910.”

He sensed the man’s silence when he finally stood on his stiff legs. The man, dark skinned with tight black curls, looked at him in astonishment. All the breath came out of him at once, and he fixed up his suit jacket.

“My-My Lord,” he said, “Forgive me. We weren’t expecting you so early. You had four more years until you came of age. This is, I’m sorry to say, quite irregular for us.”

“What’re you talking about?” he asked, confused. He touched his lip where Tiny slammed his fist last, and felt the split skin. “Where am I?”

“You’re home, sir,” he answered. “I am Charon, ferryman of souls.”

“Okay, and what’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you’re in Hell, my lord.”

San’s eyes widened, and his heart jumped into his throat. “I’m where?”

“In Hell,” he repeated. “Since you are a demon, you came to my station instead of the forest.”

“Look,” he walked up to the window, “I know I wasn’t the best kind of kid, but I couldn’t have been that-” then he stopped. “Wait, what did you say?”

“I said that since you are a demon-”

“-What? I ain’t a demon.”

“Yes, you are. Look for yourself.”

Charon turned the book around to show San a list of names scrawled in black ink. He pointed to San’s name, “Choi San, birth date July 10th, 1910. Mother: Kim Youngmi. Father: Asmodeus, Prince of Lust and Lord of Depravity. You’re a Duke of Lust, my lord.” He paused, “Did you…Did you not know that?”

San stared at the names. That couldn’t be right. Hyeon and Heechul were his parents. As terrible as they were, they’d tolerated him enough to feed and house him. Hyeon always told him she’d given birth to him in their house in Korea. Heechul claimed to have delivered San on his own. No Youngmi or Asmodeus came looking for him.

“I can’t be. I just can’t.”

“But you are,” he closed the book, “You’re a very important person down here, my lord.”

“I ain’t a ‘lord’.”

“Yes, you are. Come with me. The ferry for Depravity hasn’t left yet.”

Charon walked out from behind the window and walked him to the front door. He led San out into what reminded him of the ferry back in New York. Thousands of people moved in straight lines towards the different colored ferries. A melancholic, dreadful feeling carried through the air. San thought he’d stepped into the most miserable place he’d ever been. He followed Charon down a flight of stairs opposite the one leading down to the crowds. By the ropes separating this line from the others, San guessed he’d gotten special treatment. Charon led him past the flowing black river, the crowds thinning the further they walked from the main ferries.

“Are all those people demons too?” he asked.

“No, these are reluctant sinners or those who received no baptism or funeral rites,” he said. “They’re taken across the river to Inferno’s port where they’re shepherded to Limbo. That’s where the sin seers figure out where to put them. Don’t fret, my lord. You’re not going to Limbo.”

“Where am I going?”

“Home.”

“Home?”

“The Lands of Depravity, located several circles above the circle of lust,” he said. “Your older brothers will explain more.”

“Brothers?” San gulped, “I have brothers.”

“You didn’t know that either? Whoof, whoever raised you certainly did you no favors,” he huffed.

Charon led him to a smaller dark green ferry. At the bottom of the ramp leading onto it stood a soldier in bronze armor. Charon approached with a self-important smugness.

Charon turned to him. “Here’s your ferry and your ticket,” he handed San a ticket from his inner pocket. “Hand it to the guard, and he’ll let you on board. It’s a short trip, but there’s plenty of food and drink there.”

“Thanks,” San said, reading the white ticket.

“You’re welcome, and I hope you enjoy your new home.”

San nodded as Charon left his side. Anxiously, he walked up to the guard.

“Ticket, please,” he said. When San handed it to him, he checked and then stamped an approval. “Welcome to Hell, my lord.”

“Thanks.”

San took careful steps up the ramp. It reminded him of the ferries back in New York, except this one didn’t have any people. An attendant in a purple vest and pencil skirt smiled brightly when he walked into the sitting room. She offered him refreshments, but he declined. He might vomit if he digested anything. Sitting on a chair, he kept an eye on his surroundings. He wanted to think he’d entered a sort of coma-induced dream. Right now, he’s really in a hospital bed. Any second, he’ll wake up and it would’ve been a big dream.

He figured out he was wrong once the ferry reached port. The attendant led him to the ramp and gave him the typical customer-service farewell. At the bottom, he spotted dozens of people leaving their own boats to come ashore. He might as well be in New York, coming off a ferry from one part of the city to another. San had no clue where to go from here. Charon gave him no directions, and the attendant told him nothing. Staring around, he saw certain people in suits holding up signs. He spotted a tall, broad-shouldered man in a suit holding a card with his name on it.

“Um, hello?” San approached him slowly.

“Choi San?” the man asked with bright eyes.

“That’s me.”

“Oh, wonderful,” he laughed with relief. “I’m Yunho. I work for your brothers. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir. We weren’t expecting you for a few more years.”

“Things happen,” he shrugged.

“As they do,” he agreed. “Come with me. I'm going to take you straight home.”

“Where is ‘home’?”

“The Lands of-”

“-Depravity, yeah, the Charon guy told me that. What is home? Who is there?”

Yunho guided him towards the turnstiles, “The Black Keep. Well, it isn’t so ‘black’ anymore, but the name’s endured the centuries. Your brothers, Lords Seonghwa and Hongjoong live there. When they received Charon’s message, they were overjoyed.”

“They don’t even know me.”

“That’s not important. You share a mother and father. Do you understand how rare that is for a demon prince?”

“My dad’s a prince?”

“Yes, Prince Asmodeus. Charon didn’t tell you?”

“He glossed over it.”

“As usual. I suppose it’s excusable since he has a lot on his plate. Things have been heavy for him since Lucifer added more ferry boats…”

He brought San over to a motorcar. Black with white leather seats, San hesitated to get inside. “I ain’t never been in a motorcar before.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

The car ride distracted San from the city around him. He hardly noticed how much it reminded him of the big cities of the world. He held onto the side of the car as it bumped and rode through the streets. Soon enough, they’d left Inferno and ended up in a vast countryside. It looked nothing like what he expected. Evergreen trees lined the rolling hills and fields of tall grass. The sun shone bright in the clear skies. This was “rich people country”, as Hyeon used to say. Street rats like them didn’t live in big houses with lots of land and fresh air. He knew it must be nice, but not like this. Yunho drove up the country lane to a large gold and white gate. Golden serpents slithered down from the bars that resembled flower vines. They opened on their own, letting them drive onto a circular roundabout surrounding a floral bronze fountain.

“I ain’t ever seen a place like this…”

More snake motifs molded into the cream colored walls, with a long balcony above the tall doors. San stayed frozen in the car as he continued taking in the grandeur of the mansion. The people who lived here came from old money, like Siwon used to say. Their home didn’t appear brand new by any means, but it was not decrepit or unkempt. It amazed him. Not even Siwon could afford a place like this. His sleazy uptown buddies would never own a home like this.

“Behold, my lord. The Black Keep.”

“It’s…”

He saw gold roses winding through the rails of the balcony above, and more clinging to the columns holding it up. San felt tears in his eyes. He’d never seen a more beautiful place, and this guy was saying he’d be living here. Impossible. Not even in his wildest dreams could he make up a place like this.

“My lord?” Yunho opened his door without San realizing it. “We’re here.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, “This can’t be it.”

“You’re right. There’s more inside.”

San couldn’t picture the inside. Slowly, he stepped out and onto the gravel driveway. Yunho led him up stone steps to the front doors. More roses.

“They must like roses, huh?” he joked, trying to hide his anxiousness.

“They’re part of the family crest.”

“What’s a crest?”

“Like a little picture representing the family. Seonghwa will explain it should you want to know more.”

Yunho opened the doors and San stepped inside. He’d been right. He could not have dreamed up this place. High ceilings, paneled walls, expensive paintings and drapes with a grand staircase could not be of his own imagination. He gazed up to the ceiling to see a garden mural with a naked woman standing next to a tree holding an apple. He’d never seen a more beautiful painting.

“You’re here!”

No fantasy of his could create them either. At the top of the steps stood two men: one with thick black curls hanging to his chin, and the other with dark red hair slicked back from his face. They weren’t New York boys. They weren’t human. Their beauty surpassed any boy or girl he’d paid for back home.San saw the golden pins on their chests: a snake coiled around a singular rose. The dark-haired one wore a white shirt underneath an emerald velvet and satin vest with a nice tie. The red-head wore a similar fashion, except dark red rather than green. They were beautiful.

“You’re more beautiful than I thought you’d be,” the dark-haired brother grinned, eyeing him from top to bottom. “A bit grubby, but with a bath you’ll sparkle.”

“I don’t mind a bit of grubbiness,” said the redhead, also sizing him up. “I think it adds to his charm.”

The way they undressed him with their eyes didn’t bother him like it might have before. He couldn’t look away from either of them. He’d let them take a piece for free. The dark-haired one snorted with a smirk.

“Naughty,” he said. “I’m Seonghwa.”

“I’m Hongjoong,” said the other brother, still looking down at San's body. “He’s the oldest. I’m the middle child, and you’re the baby.”

“I ain’t a baby.”

“You mean ‘I’m not a baby’,” Seonghwa corrected him.

“But, I imagine you’ve done a lot of things kids your age shouldn’t have been doing,” Hongjoong winked, but stopped when Seonghwa backhanded his arm.

“He’s a child, Hongjoong.”

“You think the people up there care?” he retorted. “They force boys to dress up like girls and fuck them for spare change. They’re a bunch of animals. I bet he walked around with a painted face and gave blowjobs for two dollars-”

“-I ain’t a fucking whore,” San interrupted him harshly.

“It’s ‘I’m not a fucking’-”

“-Correct me again and I’m putting you on the floor,” San cut him off.

Seonghwa laughed rather than cower away. Hongjoong beamed, “Finally, somebody with some fire around here. Are you sure he’s our brother, Seonghwa?”

“Yes, I double checked. It seems he inherited Mother’s tough streak,” he said, amused. It was then that Seonghwa addressed the injuries left on San’s body. He walked up to him, and tried touching his chin before San flinched away. “Who did this to you?”

“A kid named Tiny.”

“What was he? Like four-feet but full of fire?”

“Six-feet with muscles that no kid should have. My boss made me fight him.”

San didn’t want to explain it to them. He still tried wrapping his head around the incident. He always believed Siwon cared about the kids who worked for him. Whenever one of them was mugged or picked up by the cops, Siwon sent men to take care of them. As he thought about it, he realized Siwon didn’t protect them. He protected the product the kid held for him. It saddened him.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Seonghwa said. “Men like him only care about themselves at the end of the day. If he’d treated you like scum, you wouldn’t have worked for him. I’m positive if you’d survived that fight, you’d end up doing it again with someone else.” He brushed his thumb on the split lip, “Nobody is going to hurt you here. Not even if you asked,” he glanced sideways at his brother. “You’re the son of a lord now. Demons around here would be marked for death if they put a finger on you.”

“We’d make sure of it,” reassured Hongjoong.

Their words should comfort him, but the comfort never came. He’d met plenty of adults who made the same promise. Hyeon was supposed to protect him, but she never did. Heelchul was supposed to protect him, but he never did. Siwon, Shoiming, his friends all meant to protect him and they didn’t. He meant nothing to them. He meant nothing to anyone.

“Come on,” Hongjoong touched his shoulder, and frowned when San pulled away. “You’re peaky. Cook will make something for you. What do you like?”

Nobody did things for free. “Nah, I’m fine.”

“You’re not. Let’s go.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa led him into a fancy dining room. On the table, servants put a large spread of food. Meat, cheese, fruits, and small cakes laid about the table. San’s stomach rumbled. The two of them sat on the other sides of the table, watching him closely. A woman in a maid uniform served him pieces of chicken, potatoes and vegetables. San stared at the plate. It beat the bits of bread and cheese he managed to steal off Hyeon. He picked up one drumstick and bit into it. The juicy meat broke on his teeth, tender and steaming hot. The first bite preceded the next greedy bites. It was so good that San thought he might cry again. Nabbing a bread roll, he wiped up gravy to stuff into his mouth.

“Easy there,” Seonghwa chuckled. “The food isn’t going anywhere.”

“Or are you used to food disappearing before you eat it?” Hongjoong asked with a knowing look. “You aren’t the only person here who’s used to going hungry.”

“How could you get hungry? You live here,” San asked, food in his mouth still.

“I didn’t always live here. Neither did Seonghwa.”

“Did you know who you were?”

“Yes.”

“Wait,” Seonghwa paused, “Did you not know you were a demon?”

“Not until I got here.”

“You mean to tell me that not only did your caregiver treat you poorly, but they never told you who you are?”

“Yes.”

Hongjoong laughed gleefully. “They’re going to get torn apart.”

“Rightfully so. You weren’t supposed to be here so early. You’re still a child.”

“I ain’t a kid.”

“Yes, you are,” said Seonghwa firmly. “Just because you’re not twelve doesn’t mean you’re not still a child.”

“Nobody treated me like one.”

“Because they didn’t care. I care. Hongjoong cares.”

He’d believe it when he saw it.

*****

Nothing beats coming home. Whether from a vacation or a night out, walking through the door into the comfort of familiarity relaxed the mind. San breathed much easier when he finally came home. He smiled seeing his bedroom, neat and tidy as he’d left it, and at the softness of his own bed. Seonghwa told Cook to make his favorite dinner for his homecoming; Hongjoong pulled out the “fancy shit” from their cellar. He appreciated his brothers’ attempts to make the event special, but the person who eclipsed them was you.

“No fair,” frowned Hongjoong when you walked into the dining room, “Nobody said to look hot. Seonghwa just told me to wear my ‘nice shirt’.”

San couldn’t take his eyes off you. In a velvet blue dress, he saw the tantalizing off-the-shoulders and the way the dress slimmed down to your shins. You’d put on the diamond necklace and earrings he’d bought you for your four month anniversary. He stared down your body as you walked to him and kissed his cheek. A single whiff of your expensive perfume had him capturing your lips with his.

“You look divine, Darling,” he grinned, taking in the shade of your lipstick and your upturned lashes. “And all for me?”

“All for you,” you agreed, kissing him once more before taking your seat at the table. “I wanted to look nice for you.”

“Do we really have to eat?” Hongjoong asked Seonghwa. He looked over to you, “She looks better than anything on this table.”

“Back off,” San joked, throwing a piece of his roll at him. “You sleep in your own bed tonight.”

“Oh come on,” he whined, “We missed you too Sannie. I think we should all celebrate you coming back home alive together.”

“We can do that another time,” he laughed at the weak attempt. He took your hand, noticing the ring on your finger. “I want my Darling all to myself tonight.”

“I’m not the one complaining,” you replied, smiling coyly at him.

“First course, please,” Seonghwa told one of the maids, who bowed and went to the kitchen. “This reminds me of his first homecoming.”

“His first homecoming?”

“He’d gone back home for a special assignment,” he said, buttering a bread roll. “On their 18th birthday, a demon is allowed one free kill. They get their choice of prisoner, living or dead, and can torment them however they see fit.”

“I tormented a guard from my reform school,” Hongjoong smirked over his wine. “I put a box of rats on his stomach and-”

“-San,” Seonghwa continued, “Was offered the pass too.”

“You killed someone?” you asked, surprised by it. “Who?”

“Lee Siwon.”

“Who’s that?”

“He was a gang boss who cheated, lied, stole, gambled, raped, and killed. He sold young boys to seedy old men. He forced kids to fight each other until they knocked out or died. He was your classic asshole criminal,” he picked at the soft inside of his roll, “My dad gave me the torment pass as a gift for my birthday. He said it was a right of passage for demons. You can really exercise your powers and spread sin everywhere at the same time. I could only think of one person when he asked me who I’d pick.”

“Was he still alive?”

“Surprisingly,” he nodded. “I figured he’d still be in the same city, extorting the same families and fucking the same kids. I got my pass and went home.”

“And he saw you?”

“No,” San grinned, recalling his one year back home, “And it drove him insane.”

“How?”

“General ghost stuff at first,” he shrugged. “I would open drawers and cabinets. I’d move stuff around his house and office. I’d make random noises in quiet rooms, open windows, and make radio static during his favorite songs.” He then laughed softly, “Every night at exactly 3:42am I’d turn on his water faucet. Not a steady stream, but enough that he’d hear it dropping. It drove him crazy. Then,” he ate the soft part of his bread, “I revved it up. I’d make him think people stole from him by taking money and hiding it around his businesses. I’d leave messages to make him think people in his gang were conspiring against him. Whenever he went to a drug deal, I’d either take money or damage the goods.” He laughed softly, “He finally spiraled when the market crashed, and he lost everything. Without me, he might’ve been able to survive with the money he’d kept hidden in one of his warehouses.”

“But you happened?”

“A huge fire started in the warehouse and destroyed property and the goods inside. By the time Siwon put the gun to his head, he’d completely lost his mind.”

San pictured his killer: Siwon, his hair streaked with gray, kneeling in his dusty apartment, sobbing as the agony took over. He remembered the man’s luxurious apartment having been stripped of anything valuable. Without a maid, and his wife having left him, Siwon surrounded himself with filth. Stuck in an apartment of trash, no money to his name with only the clothes on his back, Siwon had fallen. By the time San finished with him, nobody feared or respected Lee Siwon. He only revealed himself in those last few minutes, disguised as his fifteen-year-old self. Believing himself to be in a delusion of despair, Siwon didn’t question it when San made him see more children: the ones he forced into prostitution, the ones he put into fighting rings, and the ones he sacrificed on his path to fortune. The visions surrounded Siwon as he put the shotgun in his mouth.

“No talking gore at the table,” said Seonghwa as the first course was served.

“My favorite part was when he came home,” Hongjoong smirked, hardly noticing the soup bowl in front of him. “Seonghwa and I used to peep at him through the holes in his walls. We didn’t want to force him into anything, since we weren’t sure if he liked boys. Imagine our delight when Sannie walked into the lounge and,” he held back a laugh, “And told us if we wanted to see him naked, we could have just asked.”

“And then you guys fucked?”

“And then we fucked,” San confirmed, starting to eat the soup. A creamy chicken soup he’d fallen in love with when he first tried it. “What did you do while I was gone?” he then asked, wanting to change the subject.

“What happened between you and Siwon?”

“Huh?”

“You could have picked anyone, but you picked him.”

San’s eyes met Seonghwa’s from across the table. He preferred not to think about how he ended up in Hell in the first place.

“He killed me,” he said. “Well, indirectly. He put me to fight this kid that was twice my size and he beat me to death.”

“You've taken out guys bigger than you though. Jongho and Mingi have told me.”

“I was fifteen, skinny as a twig, and tired from running errands for him,” he answered. The image came to him as he spooned more soup. “If he and his friends wanted to watch a fight, they should have chosen grown men, not kids.”

“That's terrible,” you said. Like he knew you would, you picked up on his reluctance to continue. “I didn't do much.”

“Didn't do much?” Seonghwa said, astounded. “You learned how to make armor and weaponry with just your abilities.”

“You did?”

“It's not perfect. The bark is soft in some spots.”

“It can't be hard everywhere,” San said, “Otherwise you'll have trouble moving around when you're fighting. You can try filling up those weak spots with some kind of soft leather or mossy chainmail or whatever your flowery version would be.”

“What do you wear?”

“Breastplate, shoulder arm and shin guards.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s meant to be a costume as well as actual armor,” he explained, finishing off the small soup. “It’s in an old coliseum, so it has this Roman era theme to it. The armor protects most of the body, but leaves room for mobility. If every inch of me's covered in steel, I can’t move as quickly. The heavy armor would weigh me down because of my weight and-”

“-She’s been learning how to make living things with her plants too,” Seonghwa told him. “She’s managed to make flowers that sparkle like gems.”

“That’s great,” said San with a grin. “What have you made so far?”

You began telling him about what you called “gem stems': a beautiful range of different flowers that glittered and gleamed like gemstones. You’d managed to produce opal, rose quartz and amethyst flowers. Diamonds, rubies, and sapphires, you said, proved a bit more challenging for you, but you’d get it in the end. San found your creativity your most attractive trait. He saw the ensembles you wore, the way you redecorated your bedroom, and the plants you grew in your greenhouse. Everything you made turned out vibrant and beautiful. Seonghwa’s experiments might have had various shades of purple and red, but yours popped. He thought of the yellow-mouth flowers you’d made variations of in your greenhouse. Instead of only yellow, you had purple, pink, and orange-red ones. Octavius’s offspring came in hybrid forms now. Rather the purple hibiscus shapes, you’d merged them with sunflowers, roses, and tulips. Even the more dangerous flowers, who you called ‘Spike’ and ‘Rex’, bore interesting personalities and colors.

San wondered, as the conversation switched, about Francesca. He hoped Lucifer hadn’t harmed her. She’d already been in so much physical and emotional pain. Not only had she just given birth, but she’d lost her child. He’d thought someone might tell him what happened to her, but nobody breathed a word. The mother of Lucifer’s halfling children never seemed to matter to anyone. She was simply a vessel for the child who’d one day destroy the world.

He looked over at you, cutting into the steak dinner Cook prepared, and felt grateful. Demons could breed with other demons. Demons could not breed with humans, aside from Lucifer, the King of Demons. Demons and cambions did not typically reproduce because most demons considered cambions closer to humans. When he first entered you, he quickly thought about how you’d never have his children. He’d never met a woman he wanted to “mate” with until you. Knowing you better now, and knowing your status, it was possible. Not certain. It’d be difficult and there’d be many failed attempts, but not impossible.

But, what kind of father could he be if he’s unable to protect them? He’d been trusted to protect His Majesty’s child, and he could not do that. He’d failed in keeping the child safe. It’d likely been purified and turned into an angel by now. What if the same thing happened to you and he’d failed again? The image of you in Francesca’s place, laying flat on your back with blood pooling around your thighs and legs came to him. Some women died in childbirth. His mother claimed she’d nearly died giving birth to her last child, who’d come out deformed and sickly before passing a week later. He didn’t want that to happen to you. He didn’t know what cambion-demon pregnancies were like, but it could not be that different from normal ones.

“San?” your voice broke through his thoughts, and he saw you looking at him with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Darling,” he said, pushing pictures of you lifeless and bloody from his mind.

You didn’t believe him. He saw your worry even as you went back to eating. San tried keeping up the charade by eating his own dinner. The meal ended with a variety of tarts San enjoyed. He devoured the peach tarts, while you’d dove into the strawberry tarts. Your appetite never ceased to amaze him. You told him in your past life, you’d waste time going on fad-diets to keep yourself from gaining more weight. Now, in a world where that doesn’t matter, you indulged more than you used to. Cook’s excellent skills made everything you tasted mouthwatering. San didn’t mind at all. He loved a woman who ate well; particularly the luscious curves that might result from proper appetite.

“I’m heading to bed,” you said once dinner ended, kissing each brother but lingering on his lips the longest. “This dress is nice, but not sleepwear. Right, San?”

“If you give me a few minutes,” he slid his hand down around your thighs to your ass, “I can help you take it off.”

“No, I want to keep it a surprise.”

You kissed him one more time before leaving the dining room. San downed the last of his wine before standing from the table. Seonghwa and Hongjoong instantly gravitated towards each other as they often did when alone. It reminded him of the first time he saw them together, and he shuddered.

“Looks like San is going to get a second dessert tonight,” smirked Hongjoong. Seonghwa cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, “A nice, thick, yummy creampie.”

“Hush,” San laughed, cheeks turning hot. “I won’t be the only one tonight, it seems,” he said, nodding to Seonghwa. “You two have fun.”

“You too,” Hongjoong said, hazy from his tipsy state and Seonghwa’s full lips on his neck.

He walked out of the dining room to his bedroom. Sadly, he envisioned a child in the hallway. A beautiful girl with your eyes and hair, giggling and skipping joyfully. Perhaps a boy with his nose and jawline, playing with a wooden sword and pretending to cut down imaginary foes. San wanted to say you’d both be good parents, but could you really be? Andromeda was the kindest demon he’d ever met, who’d loved you with all her heart. You had some idea of how to be a loving mother, should you want to be one. But he didn’t grow up with such love and attention. Hyeon and Heechul despised him, and did nothing to hide it. He’d been another burden for them to bear. He never felt a mother’s warm hug and kiss or a father’s arm around his shoulders or patting his back. No fun holidays together. No cozy nights. Nobody comforted him when he cried or had a bad dream.

He didn’t have any of that until Seonghwa. Hongjoong might’ve been more of a sibling figure, but Seonghwa took on the parental role. He made sure San got a good education, that he ate well, bathed and tried making him the gentleman Hongjoong refused to be. He’d hated it at first because he saw it as a force to change. But, he soon learned Seonghwa didn’t want to change him, he wanted to help him. If San should imagine any father figure, it should be his oldest brother.

San walked into his apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights as he headed straight to bed. He pictured you, him and your child having come back from a family night out. You’d be in one of your lovely dresses, and he’d be wearing a suit and tie. Your kid would be put to bed first, wrapped up in soft pajamas and falling asleep as one of you read to him. Then, you’d both be alone. As he removed his jacket and unbuttoned his tie, the idea of domesticity between you both appeared to only sadden him. What if someone tried harming one of you, and he failed to protect you? What if he wasn’t quick enough? Strong enough? Brave enough? If he’d moved faster, he might have saved little Gisella. Lucifer would be delighted for another antichrist; lovely Francesca would be rocking the baby to sleep right now. But because of him and his hesitation, that had been shattered.

“This room hasn’t felt the same without you.”

San, unbuckling his pants, turned to see you leaning against the doorframe. You wore a lace night dress, a slit through the middle to reveal the matching underwear underneath. Your beauty usually distracts him from any thought in his mind, but not tonight. All he saw when he looked at you was Francesca and the baby he didn’t save.

“Has it?” he asked, knowing he had to say something to keep you from suspecting anything other than pure lust.

“It was empty,” you sauntered over to him, running your hands down his back and around his waist when he turned away. “And the bed was always cold.”

He felt your warm lips dot kisses on his shoulders, and your hands replaced his at his front. With deft hands, you undid his belt and fly, then lightly pulled at them until they pooled at his feet. In the mirror, he saw you clinging to him. He touched one of the hands on his chest, feeling the softness of your fingers and palms. Your fingers then intertwined. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, the temptress dropping in favor of the sweetness.

“Nothing,” he assured you.

“Liar,” you said, lips on his skin. “What happened up there? Who’s Gisella?”

“What?” He never recalled mentioning neither mother nor child to anyone.

“You said her name in your sleep,” you replied. You didn’t sound jealous. You sounded comforting, “Was that the baby’s name?”

“Yes,” he said, preferring not to lie to you.

“What happened to her?”

“She was taken. I…I didn’t get her back in time.”

“What do angels do with demon babies? They don’t…” you hesitated, then said, “They don’t kill them, do they?”

“No, they purify them,” he said. “They use their holy magic to sap out the demonic energy in their blood, and turn them into another angel. To Lucifer, that’s as good as death, but it’s more favorable than true death.” He stared at himself in the mirror. Even with all his muscles, speed and skill, he couldn’t protect the most important being in demonic history. “I’d nearly gotten her out. I was right there, YN. I was right at the exit into Hell, and they caught up to me. I…I tried fighting them off, and I did for a bit but then one of them caught me and she…” his chest tightened remembering the moment she slipped from his arms. “They caught her before I could. One of them stabbed me through my armor. I managed to stab my knife into their neck, but not in time to save her. They’d escaped through their own portal. I failed, YN. I was given one job. I had one job to do and I failed.”

“Just because you failed once doesn’t make you a failure. You did all you could-”

“-I have fought angels twice my size. I have fought against humans, demons, angels, archangels, cambions, and all the rest. I should have succeeded-”

“-You’re not always going to win,” you assured him, putting yourself between him and the mirror. “From what Seonghwa told me, the likelihood you would lose the kid was fifty-fifty. You might get the child away or you might not. It isn’t an indication of your skill or abilities.” You rubbed his arms comfortingly. While you have bite and bark, you also carried a gentleness he rarely experienced.

“I watched the birth happen,” he explained, “And the mother. She was so young, but carrying this big responsibility. I saw the pain in her eyes when she handed her baby over to me. She’d hoped I might be able to take her to safety, and I didn’t do that. The child she bore for weeks was gone, and she’d never see them again and it’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” you said bracingly. “She must’ve known what she was getting into when she agreed to get pregnant. Seonghwa told me all about it. He says every few years a woman is chosen to have his kid, and she has to consent before it happens. This woman knew there was a chance she’d lose them one way or another. Now, is it nice that it ended up happening? No. The kid getting taken is not your fault.”

“It is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It is.”

“No, it isn’t,” you said more firmly. “You did the best you could.”

“I should’ve done better.”

“Stop that,” you cut him off. “Everyone always says what a great swordsman you are, but you’re not going to win every battle-”

“-What if that happens to you?” he said. He cupped your cheeks and looked into your eyes. Their shape and color had been his last thought before he slipped into unconsciousness. “What if something happens to you and you die because I wasn’t fast enough to act? What if we have a kid and they get hurt or die because I didn’t try hard enough? YN, you are the one person who matters most to me. I don’t want to lose you-”

“-Is there something that makes you think you will?” you said, touching the hand on your cheek. “I do have a shadow demon for a bodyguard, and Jongho and Yeosang aren’t weaklings either. There’s also two other demons who’d protect me just as much as you would. What makes you think something might happen to me?”

“The fear of losing something that makes me happy,” he said. “When I was growing up, nice things always got taken away. When I made some money, the witch took it from me. If I got a bit of food, she’d snatch it and give me the smaller piece. If I showed any sign of happiness, it disappeared somehow. I love you, YN,” he said, “And I don’t want anyone to take you from me.”

“Nobody is going to,” you assured him, kissing him lightly. “I’m not exactly defenseless either, you know,” you gave a small grin.

You extended your hand, and several thin vines extended from your hands and around his wrist. San hissed when the vines tightened around his arm, squeezing him until his arm seized up. As that happened, you flicked your other hand and out shot a spiked, magenta dart that lodged itself to the wall. San watched the barb start spreading a sizzling, black goo that burned a hole right through the stone.

“Where did you learn that?” he asked, impressed by the snake vines slithering back into your palm and the acid dart dropping to the floor.

“My Aunt Rhea,” you shrugged. “She’s been giving me self-defense classes. She says ladies need to know how to protect themselves from man-things. Gaia is the one who teaches me how to create and grow the flowers I work with now.”

“Your mother?”

He noticed your sad expression, “How to live again.” You held the hand you’d cut the circulation from, rubbing it gently, “How to feel whole and happy.”

“Were you not before?”

“Not truly,” you said. “I filled my life with meaningless, temporary happiness. I thought having lots of nice things and sleeping with good looking people made life worth it. But, now I realize how empty I’d always felt then. I never felt complete,” you brushed yourself up against him, “Until I met you and your brothers. I love you more than anything else, and not just because the sex is amazing.” The both of you shared a laugh, “I don’t want to lose any of you. I might have owned nice things, but the people I chose to share myself with didn’t stay long. I don’t want you to get bored of me and throw me out or trade me in for something better-”

“-There is no one better,” he reassured you. “No one.”

He stepped out of his pants, kicking them away as he cupped your bottom. This prompted you to leap into his arms, wrapping yourself around him tightly. He turned to the bed, where he laid you down gently before landing on top of you. Once your bodies met, his lips opened yours in soft caresses. The intoxicating natural drug in your mouth mingled with his own, and that familiar burning desire ignited between you. Usually, this sensation took him down a rabbit hole of overwhelming lust. Tonight, it didn’t seem to do that. This time, he felt nothing but tenderness as he slowly grinded himself into you. He wanted you, but not in the sexual, primal way. San didn’t want to fuck you until the sun came up. He didn’t want to ‘take you’ like an animal in heat. He wished to melt with you. After witnessing so much violence and blood, he wished every vein and muscle in his body sunk inside yours to make you one body.

‘You are the sun and I am the moon. Without your light, I am nothing.”

A quote Seonghwa read in a poem came to him as his hands slipped off the straps of your dress. Seonghwa was better with words. He grew up with poetry and literature while San could never get a grasp on it. He often forgot names of poets or authors or playwrights, but he understood their words. He felt them. This quote bundled everything he felt for you into two sentences. Now that he had you, he would be nothing if you left him.

“San,” you breathed his name between kisses, “Don’t be rough tonight.”

“I don’t plan to be,” he replied, pulling down the top half of your dress. He peppered kisses on your chest as your breasts spilled out of the cups. A nipple in his mouth, he sucked and licked softly. “I want to feel every inch of you.”

He exhaled deeply when your hands slid through his short hair and down his neck to his spine. Your hips slowly rocked against him, your thin underwear dampening between you. He wouldn’t use toys this time. He won’t call you dirty names, choke and slap you. San treated you with all the gentleness of a man holding fine china in his hands. He delicately handled your breasts, giving them gentle squeezes and sucking them until you whimpered. He did not bite them like he sometimes did. San teasingly wagged his tongue over each just to hear your soft gasps. He knew how much you loved having your nipples teased. It’s why they paid so much attention to them during those first few moments in bed.

Your excitement grew when he kissed between them and down to your pubic bone. Kissing along your hips, his arms wrung around your thighs so his hands massaged the inner sides. The mere scent and taste of you aroused him. He started at your knees before moving closer to your center, where you hitched a breath when he reached the very innermost corner. He kissed back up to your waist and to your breasts again. On the base of your throat he asked:

“Would you want one?”

You did not answer right away. You paused, staring at the ceiling. Right when he thought he’d ruined everything, you answered him. “Maybe? I never thought about kids before. I like kids, and babies are cute, but I never considered it. I never met anyone I wanted a family with, since most of them already had families.” Hands in his hair, you looked down at him. “But then, I met you.”

This brought you to his lips, where he kissed you as passionately as before. You both broke apart as if you’d just come up from underwater. You wrapped your legs around him as you kissed his neck. “Give me one,” you whined in his ear, rocking against him again, “Fill me up with one. I’d have one with you any time.”

He strengthened his arousal. His cock hardening against your inner thigh, he groaned as he pushed to your hips. His hands on your breasts, San moaned when a hand slid between you to his groin. He didn’t stop you from pulling him from his boxers to lightly stroke it. The pleasure it brought felt like nothing before. It might as well be the first time you two have touched each other. While he suckled your nipples, you took your time fondling his boner. He could feel your fingertips sliding over the most sensitive parts of his cock; he groaned aroundyour hard nipples whenever you gently squeezed the bulbous head. San knew he was larger than either of his brothers. They liked mentioning it whenever they shared a bed. The only thing that mattered to him was how much you liked it. Pushing into your fist, he thought of all the times you reached out and groped him.

‘I don’t know why. I just love having it in me. It hits the spot each time and makes me cum so much.’

San hooked his hand to the side your panties and slipped himself under them. The both of you shared a moan once his thick head touched your soft lips. He didn’t enter right away. San lifted himself up a bit more to see the two of you nestled together inside your wet panties. Your hands gripped his forearms for stability as you slid yourself up and down his tip and shaft. The sweet nub at the very top, hard and uncovered from its hood, dragged across the slit of his head. He took hold of himself just to move side to side over the sweet spot. You pulled your panties aside to give him a better view of your soaked pussy opening up to his throbbing cock. It made for a beautiful sight. He saw the need for him in your eyes, and he’d usually withhold it. San and the others enjoyed teasing you into madness, but not now. He sunk himself inside the tight entrance that clung to him. It brought a twinge of relief before he pulled out to keep rubbing.

“Don’t stop,” you said, moving your legs further apart to give him more room. “That feels so good,” your eyes fell shut as he sunk back in and pulled out a second time.

“It’s you that feels so good,” he groaned, sliding in and out a few times before withdrawing. He saw how wet you became each time he did it. “It’s your pussy that drives me absolutely insane,” he huffed a laugh, then groaned when he saw you stretched around his shaft. “It’s so tight every time,” he said when he pushed further inside, rolling his hips to get deeper, “It makes me want to breed you whenever we fuck.”

“Then breed me,” you said, head tilting back into the bed and hands gripping his arms tightly. “Cum deep inside until I’m bursting with it.”

Anything for you. Laying on top of you, arms sliding underneath your shoulders to keep you close, San fully plunged inwards. Even though his body begged him to go faster, he continued gradually. His lips found yours, and you each moaned into each other’s mouths. He never felt so close to one person, not even his brothers. Not a single soul alive made him feel the way you do. It was unlike any romance or feeling he had for anyone before. San needed you the way plants need sunlight; the way fish need water and birds need the sky. After what he’s gone through these past few days, he cannot be without you anymore.

Even when you managed to roll him over, you remained connected by a few inches. Arms on either side of his head, you kept kissing as you brought your hips up and down on him. The faint smacking of hips on hips joined your moans and groans. He felt down your back to squeeze your supple cheeks. He didn’t let go, but he didn’t spread or spank them either. He simply held you as you went at your own pace.

“San,” you whispered his name in the midst of your whimpers, “Sannie…”

“YN…” he replied, merely wanting your name to roll off his tongue.

You are the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Just like when he first laid eyes on the Black Keep, it nearly brought him to tears at times. He pushed his hips to yours, feeling his orgasm slowly climbing to the top. Your taut walls grew tighter as his tip hit that squishy piece inside, driving you to rock back and forth. He put one hand to your chin, thumb resting on your lower lip. The feeling of your tongue and lips around the digit made his jaw drop. You put his other hand between you to your clit, where he slowly rubbed it from top to bottom. He made sure you felt the pad of his thumb moving around over the middle.

He came right when you did. Your body stiffening, mouth hung open with his thumb still inside, you kept him buried deep as you shuddered on top of him. He removed his thumb to hear your moans uninterrupted, causing his own to drive further. He felt the distinct hot sensation of his cum shooting inside while yours covered him entirely. You planted yourself on him as his head stayed firmly on your g-spot, bringing overwhelming pleasure before it turned to sensitivity.

San didn’t pull out right away. With a bit of maneuvering, the both of you stayed connected against the pillows. You hugged him close as he continued pushing inside you despite his sensitive cock. More deep, passionate kisses resulted in him remaining hard for another orgasm. San lifted your knees up, curling you upwards to shove in at a different angle. When he broke away to look down, he saw thick white fluids mixing each time he slid outwards. This encouraged him to keep his strokes short and deep so nothing spilled too far out. He can’t breed you if he lets it seep onto the bed. That’s awfully wasteful.

“Fill me up with more,” you said, hands tugging at his scalp. “Please, San. Please.”

“As much as I can give you, baby.”

He did. He came inside until he felt empty. You enjoyed this part particularly because his orgasms also brought out yours. By the time he felt spent, he still did not pull out. Holding you to his chest, he brought the covers over the both of you as you kissed wherever your lips could reach.

“I love you,” the words escaped you in a single breath, staying as close as you could under the covers.

“I love you,” he said back, giving light kisses to your chin and lips.

While it was highly unlikely it’d take root inside you, San liked the idea of it happening. He’d do anything for you regardless of whether it happened or not. You meant the world to him. Seeing you fall asleep in his arms, San pictured it and smiled softly before kissing you one more time.

***

A/N: Such a fluffy good time! I kind of wanted to dial back on the kink for this one, so I hoped you guys still enjoyed it <3 Like and reblog! It keeps posts alive!

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