#sanguinarch arknights

[bloodyopvs]

ANATHEMA.

love as hunger, the night as a fever. a nameless narrator tells the tale of a particular meeting between the Prince of Blood and the future Lord of the Banshees.

[paepipi]

phancat and sanguinarchcat(?)

based off the kalcat that made me laugh for a good while because of how much she looked like a little freaky alien

[bloodyopvs]

like the moon & the tide, part one

Previously posted on AO3.

CHARACTERS: The Sanguinarch, Laqeramaline SHIP: Duqramaline (Duq'arael/Laqeramaline) RATING: M GENRE: Fluff and Angst / Angst with a happy ending

SETTING & TROPES: Reincarnation + Modern AU; Childhood Friends to Lovers to Exes/Divorcees to...whatever this is. There will be arranged marriage, some kissing, lots of dumb mutual pining, commitment issues, pet names, canon references, and just all-around two modern idiots being...well, idiots. There's also going to be a cameo of smol Logos in the later parts.

CW/TW: None for this part, but there will be a mention of sex and mentions (plural, I think) of substance abuse later on.

NOTES: This was the fic that I first wrote of them, and it was published before Babel and ch 14 hits the Global server back at the end of August, which means that Laqeramaline's characterisation was 85-95% personal interpretation (+ fanon). There may also be some inconsistencies and inaccuracies, although I obviously meant to take canon behind the shed and sacrifice it to a Sarkaz Witchcraft Altar for being a coward.

Also! Sort-of inspired by this art by @el-loy, which got me into this ship.

Had to cut this fic into several parts, too, because tumblr is my enemy and won't let me post all of it in one sitting. smh.

SUMMARY:

Our love a bittersweet fairytale, a circle of partings and reunions, like the eternal dance between the moon and the tide.

In a dream that he's had more often than not, he was falling. When he was a boy, the doctors that his parents brought him to told them that it was normal. When he got slightly older, those doctors asked his parents if he had a particular fear of falling — if he's been through any 'traumatic experience'. He stopped telling his parents his dreams - nightmares? - soon after. He stopped worrying his older brother with them, too. Not long after that, he met her for the first time. Laqeramaline is a peculiar girl, one that seemed as if she belonged in a myth. She never quite seem to belong in this world, as if she got one hand curled around an invisible suitcase handle as a little girl, always ready to leave. Or perhaps to fly off altogether into the night — that's just the kind of girl that she was. Their first encounter was in his family's garden. Her parents was some close acquaintances of his, and although his mother had told him that they have a little girl that's around his age, Duq'arael witnessed neither hide nor hair of her. He was bored of being around adults — mostly around his brother, who was everyone's favourite — and he snuck out into the garden while the adults and his brother were busy regaling one another with whatever it was that adults talk about. Probably politics and other stuffy things, and the ten-year-old did not want to bother himself with it, even as brilliant as he was. When he arrived in the garden, though, he was quite unsure of what to do. Thankfully, it wasn't an especially bright day (he was, admittedly, quite photosensitive, and the sun and him don't exactly get along) and the gentle afternoon sun was covered by some clouds. He wished that he'd swiped one of his brother's books — not the boring ones, though — because now, glancing around at the garden, he was unsure as to what to do.

In the end, he approached the giant oak tree on one corner of the garden, his father's favourite. The boy thought that perhaps he could while away the time counting clouds, or just laze around underneath its shade. It was certainly a much better alternative than to be stuck hearing the adults talk, even if they weren't stingy with snacks and compliments (the two essential things that every kid liked, especially him). Even so, when he'd just sat down, he suddenly felt a small pebble bouncing off from his head, albeit harmlessly so. Then quickly followed by another one. Annoyed, the fair-haired boy looks up — and that's when he first saw Laqeramaline. She was hanging from one of the tree's lower branches; a deep contrast to the beautiful black dress that she was wearing. She seemed to be around his age; a little girl with blue-black hair and a pair of wide, ruby eyes framed by long, elegant lashes. She was staring down at him inquisitively. "…What are you looking at?" Irritated, Duq'arael scowled up at her, and she threw another pebble in his direction, which he managed to dodge this time. "Don't you have any manners whatsoever?"

"I do, but it's reserved for boys whose face isn't stuck in an upside-down smile," She flatly said, the expression on her small face remaining unchanged, which annoys him even more. "And dark-haired ones, I suppose." "What's that supposed to mean?" He bristled, the scowl on his face deepening. "Anyway, why don't you come on down? I'd love to give you a piece of my mind." "You'd fight a girl?" "My brother says that women and men are equals. So, yeah." "Mm, I don't think that's what he meant when he told you that," There's a rustle, and gracefully, she pulled herself up. "I'd feel bad for you, though. You seem quite frail. Why don't you be my friend instead?" "…Are you always rude to people who you asked to be your friend, or are you just rude to boys?" He squints at her, uncertain as to how to respond to that. What is wrong with this girl? She's really weird. "Just to boys, mostly. But that's because they suck," Answered the peculiar girl, thoughtfully, before she climbed down from the tree, and dusted her clothes. "My mother asked me to be nicer to them, though. And your parents are friends with mine, right?"

"…Yes?" "Then you should be my friend. My name is Laqeramaline," She wiped her hand on her dress before she extended it to him, and Duq'arael stared at it for a moment. He wasn't sure if he should accept it, not because she was a strange girl or, well, a girl, with all the myths surrounding her gender, but because it might be dirty. In the end, though, he chose to accept it, and she beamed at him for the first time. "What's yours?" "Duq'arael," He answered, succinctly, rather stiffly. "Um, nice to meet you." "Duq'arael. That's a mouthful, but I guess it suits you," She furrowed her brow, pulling back her hand after she'd shook it, looking thoughtful for a moment before she suddenly claps her hands. "I'm gonna call you Dukare. That's easier." "…And who gives you permission to change people's names?" Once again, he was scowling — at this weird, bold, solemn girl who seemed to have appeared out of thin air, like an apparition. "We've only just met, too." "Well, you're my friend now. It's better than the 'Prince of Scowls' or something," She shrugs her small, slender shoulders, and to his surprise — she's always full of surprises — she leans forward and patted his shoulder. "Cheer up. A smile suits you much better." That was how their strange relationship began. TO BE CONTINUED.

[bloodyopvs]

the witch's hat and her kiss

PROMPT: mean thoughts and cheap shots

CHARACTERS: The Sanguinarch, Damazsti Cluster, Laqeramaline

SHIP: Duqramaline (Duq'arael/Laqeramaline)

RATING: T for kissing

GENRE: Fluff and Crack

CW/TW: Mentions of blood. also Duq'arael is a warning in itself but he's surprisingly tame in this one

NOTES: For @el-loy, and was based on their Halloween art (as well as our silly convo on twitter). I hope you enjoy this one!

Also, as a general note, I'm experimenting in terms of writing style, so please be warned. It's nothing drastic, though.

she was gorgeous.

not that she wasn't gorgeous on a daily basis. even amongst the other Banshees and the members of her Court — even taking into account all the millennias that he had lived through — Laqeramaline was one of the most beautiful women that he had beheld with his eyes, irrespective of her purity of lineage. 

tonight, dressed in a pointy hat and a witch's attire, she was more beautiful than ever, exuding an aura of elegant charm. more importantly, she seemed to be having fun with the other women of the Sarkaz Royal Court, one of them being the Lich King's attendant. in fact, none of the other Royal Court men seemed to make it to attendance. the Regent was nowhere in sight; so was his right-handed man and Nezzsalem (normally the only other member of the Kazdel Military Commission that he deemed worthy enough to gravitate towards). not even the Confessarius could be seen anywhere.

normally, the Sanguinarch would grumble about how they all went missing on such an important cultural holiday of the Teekaz people (definitely not because he was aware that Laqeramaline was the organiser of this party) and he would gladly take cheap shots on them to anyone with a working set of ears and within his complaining range (on this night, it's definitely the Damazsti), but this time, he was actually quite silent, taking demure sips from the glass of bloodwine he was holding while watching the Royal Court ladies having fun and decorating their respective pumpkins.

...it was definitely not because he felt ridiculous, no. and not due to any reasons that others would think would be the cause.

hell, he wouldn't think that he would feel ridiculous, either. especially because of that.

"do you ever think of wearing something else that's not your boring regular clothes?" asked the green-haired Cluster sitting beside him on the bench, eyeing him with a gloomy look while holding his scythe (one that looks a bit too real to simply be a prop for the party). "especially since she invited you personally this year, Old Red-Eye. we would have thought that this event is important to you, too — being an old cultural holiday and all that."

"well, yours isn't all that different, either," pointed out the Vampire, rather testily. he certainly had a lot to say about that — based on his correspondingly mean thoughts about them — but he was holding himself back, a bit. not because he didn't want to ruin her party with his temper. "my clothes aren't 'boring' — it embodies all sorts of historical and cultural significance from my Court as well as the Military Commission. additionally, it wasn't as if she did not invite me in the previous couple of years, I was simply occupied with court business. in any case, how did you come to the knowledge that she invited me personally this year?"

"we, at least, bothered with the equipment," mumbled the Damaszti, but he heard it, and he shot them a nasty look. the Cluster winced in response to that. "and we were knowledgeable of the fact that she invited you tonight — as well as the fact that she did not invite you in the previous couple of years — because we borrowed your form before. not that we particularly enjoy it."

"oh, is that so? so now you are an expert on my feelings and my history, Lord Damazsti?" Duq'arael suddenly finished his drink in one gulp, usually a bad omen. "are you also aware that calling me a liar has consequences? I said that I had been busy in the years prior to this one — she did send me invitations, but they have been collecting dust, understandably so. hence why she invited me personally this year. between that and the personal insult directed to me — that last bit — you should learn to be more careful with your words. although you do have to try harder, if you would like to insult me."

a scoff followed his words, and he sent the other a withering glare, one that would actually kill, had the Damazsti weren't also a member of the Military Commission -- had they not been in Laqeramaline's Halloween party. his conversation partner flinched in response, although annoyance flashed through their eyes.

"if you felt insulted by our words, then we believe that is on you, Prince Duq'arael. but...we are genuinely curious. do you truly think that we are all unaware of what transpired between you and Laqeramaline — your feelings towards one another, the history you two shared?"

the Sanguinarch bristled visibly at that. he had more than mean thoughts and cheap shots to say to that, but a familiar voice and presence interrupted their conversation.

"both of you seemed to be having a lively conversation," her equally beautiful voice was as elegant and spellbinding as always, although it was infused with an undertone of mischief, one that might not be apparent to those who did not know her well. despite the anger that he was forced to swallow, the Vampire instinctively turned towards the direction of her voice. the sight of her alone makes the peculiar, uncharacteristic insecurity welled up again within him — one that the Damazsti had touched earlier. perhaps he really should have worn something else. "Prince Duq'arael. Lord Damazsti. thank you for coming."

"it wasn't a 'lively conversation' as much as it was an attempt to murder us," grumbled the Cluster, although Duq'arael was much too engrossed by her presence to send them another nasty look. "even so, many thanks for inviting us, Lord Banshee." 

"I am not the one who started it," stated the Vampire, shooting them a Look, although he made an effort to give the lady a diplomatic smile. "this idiot aside, it was my pleasure, Laqeramaline. although I was, admittedly, surprised at your invitation."

"was your surprise a pleasant one?" she calmly responded, accompanied by a laugh, the soft, melodious tone of it echoing in the dusk, putting the night breeze to shame. "it's rare to hear you speak of your feelings so openly, Prince Duq'arael. the pleasure is mine, however — although I must admit, I was surprised, too, that you decided to come."

"if we may interject, we thought that the Old Red-Eye is always too honest with his feelings and his thoughts," quipped the almost-forgotten Cluster, and the Sanguinarch instinctively shot him another glare, even if a smile was still playing on his lips. "needless to say, we were surprised, too, that you chose to invite him out of all people, Lady Laqeramaline. are you not afraid that he's going to ruin the party with his displays of so-called 'excitement'?"

"who asked you?" shot the Vampire, finding it harder and harder to restrain his urge to shut the other up. permanently so, preferably. he does not care anymore if the Cluster was also old enough to remember their people when they have yet to become 'Sarkaz', a rootless, persecuted people — it wasn't as if he'd actually done something useful for their people with this knowledge, anyways. "if you are picking a fight with me, Lord Damazsti, I would gladly indulge you anytime."

"thank you for your concern, Lord Damazsti. but I think I am more than equipped to handle this one," the Banshee interjected, smiling amusedly, her melodious voice still so serene and unruffled — although the fact that he felt her grip on his arm right after the words left her beautiful lips speaks volumes. that grip was no joke, either. out of instinct, the Sanguinarch shot her a glare, too, but it evidently had no effect on her, since she remained unfazed. "speaking of which, may I borrow him for a moment? I'd like to speak with the Prince. in private."

"of course we would grant you the honour — although some honour it was. as a matter of fact, you need not return him for the night. we would like to enjoy the festivities without him glaring over our shoulders."

"perfect," Laqeramaline sounded so pleased that it was hard to stay annoyed at her and this entire 'talking about him as if he weren't there' thing. well, almost. Duq'arael opened his mouth, about to violently protest and make a scathing remark, but she cut him off before he could do so. "then I'll be taking him along. enjoy your Halloween, Lord Damazsti."

again, before he could so much as offer a protest, Laqeramaline dragged him away — at least away from the crowd. to be perfectly honest, he had no interest in doing anything else aside from spectating (and offering scathing commentary, although he wouldn't call it that), and thus, the thought of having to do something silly (like decorating a pumpkin) almost made him shiver. well, it would certainly make her happy, but at what cost? his pride?

"what are you doing?" Duq'arael finally blurted out, once there was quite a distance between them and the rest of the guest list. irritation underscored his tone, although this action of hers induced a strange feeling. a more erratic heartbeat. moving through the gravestones, her pulling him along, it felt as if they were lovers heading for a secret tryst — two gods, not the almost, half-dead thing that their relationship was. not Machiavelli's prince and lady Hel, not the monarch of the Crimson Court and the Elegiac Court, but a man and a woman, boy and girl, stumbling through the cemetery like yesterday's child. "Laqeramaline. you owe me an explanation."

"...here," she simply said, ignoring his words, pulling him to a corner near a mausoleum. he obliged, although scowling slightly at her, but instead of giving him what he demanded, the Banshee smiled, and suddenly took off her pointy hat. tiptoeing a little, she placed it atop his head. "much better."

"what is this? are you also taking a cheap shot at my outfit?" the scowl on his visage deepens. it was precisely what makes him feel so ridiculous tonight — and the fact that it does annoys him to no end. it shouldn't annoy him, after all. he could wear and do whatever he wanted. "why are you giving it to me?"

"so many questions," she was obviously stifling a laugh, and wasn't doing a very good job at it. deftly, she adjusted the hat. "you do not have any horns, so it is not a very good fit. however, it still looks good on you."

"it...does?" she took him off-guard, and the Sanguinarch blinked. another peculiar feeling surfaced, or perhaps resurfaced — she was standing so close to him, after all. 

"don't you trust me? you never change, after all."

"should I be someone else?" the words came out less bitingly than he intended. soft. much too soft. so soft, it hurts. a pause followed his words. the smile on her lips was haunting, a reminder that he was not only haunted by the dead, those echoes of the myriad souls from the abyss — including his brother, long dead and gone — but also by someone still alive. "if you would like me to trust you again, then prove it."

that one left his lips before he even realised it. there are so many things left unsaid between them, exit wounds and whispered wars, but at the moment, there was only her and him, the bright, silvery moon their only witness. 

to his surprise, Laqeramaline took a step forward. 

and then another.

her fingertips fluttered, alighting on his cheek like a butterfly's wings. much too soft. so soft, it hurts — transforming him with strange tenderness. he almost flinched. transfixed, Duq'arael bends down slightly, and their lips meet halfway.

(his bones ached for her.)

"...there you go. a Banshee's kiss, on the night of Halloween," she whispered against his lips, after the kiss. they both lingered — a fact that he was secretly glad about, since that means the peculiar feeling's mutual — and she pulled the brim of the hat (that was still sitting on his head) slightly down, as if covering their intimate proximity from any prying eyes, stifling another laugh. "you still owe me a proper costume, though, my Prince."

"I suppose I could try to make it up to you," he stole another kiss from her lips before he responded. "would a bottle of wine of my choice do?"

"you can do so much better than that, Duq'arael," she laughed, pulling back. her ruby eyes twinkling with mirth, rivalling the stars. "is my favour worth only that much to you?"

"fine, then," he arched an eyebrow, finding her arm and pulling her close, gently. her heartbeat picks up, and he unconsciously smiles — perhaps a genuine one. after all, the language of blood never lies. "I'll throw in a date as well. what do you think?"

"well, I think you still need to work on your wooing skills — you're not exactly Prince Charmless, but there's still room for improvement. and it's hard to say no to that smile, admittedly," her hands found his cheeks, cupping them, and she pulled him down, kissing him full on the lips. "my answer is yes. but wear something proper next year, okay?"

a part of him wanted to point out that she was also a witch dressing up as a witch, and...well. that is, if there is a next time. would they still be on good terms next year?

still, the Sanguinarch kept these words to himself. instead, he kissed her back.

that, in itself, was a promise.

FIN. 

[bloodyopvs]

I wrote and posted this before I read Babel so pardon the inaccuracies (including Ramale's name) (probably never going to stop calling her that though, the localisation name is kind of meh)

Anyways, have some more 'I can't live without you' manipulative pathetic evil bf x 'I'll attend your funeral sweetheart' ready to move on gf content

[bloodyopvs]

I can't be the only one who has infectious and frankly terminal brainworms about them

[bloodyopvs]

The Sanguinarch isn't a bad villain or a cliched one.

The only thing that his writing suffers from is the fact that a lot of the finer points in his characterisation were easily missed or flew over our heads due to Arknights's ambiguous writing — I also had to do some deep lore diving to the Arknights Terra Wiki to be able to piece a more coherent picture of him, something more profound than merely 'he's just a mindless psychopath and a remorseless war criminal'.

And it strikes me what he was actually meant to be, in Chapter 13, where he was the main villain.

He is, for lack of a better word, an inverted Jesus figure.

There's a lot of things supporting this.

First, we have the crown of thorns (actually the thing that got into this rabbit hole) that his chibi, boss sprite wore in his second phase. His artist, Chuzenji, also drew him with the same thing. The crown of thorns's symbolism is obvious. Jesus wears one, including his depiction in the famous movie, The Passion of the Christ. Though, it's probably not that special on its own; but it's only the tip of the iceberg.

Then we got the meaning of his name, a portmanteau of a Hebrew word and an angel's name —— 'Dook', meaning pierced, and Ariel, an angel whose name literally means 'Lion/Hero of God', at least according to the Terra Wiki —— and things are starting to get intriguing. Put together, 'Duq'arael' means 'Pierced Lion/Hero of God'. The angel's name aside, the lion is an animal that symbolised 'God's strength and command', one that was closely related to God, to the point where C.S Lewis, author of the famous Chronicles of Narnia, use Aslan, a lion, as a stand-in metaphor for God.

And yes, the deeper you go into Sarkaz lore, the more you discover that it was heavily inspired by the lore of Abrahamic religions in real life, although I won't delve too deeply into this or start drawing parallels to real life events, since it's an extremely sensitive issue. But my point is that Arknights has always been deeply influenced by religious mythology and symbolism, and Duq'arael's name goes deep. It hinted at us on his true character——how he views himself.

(Him killing his own elder brother, who was an 'ideal' King of Sarkaz, was also a clear allusion to the story of Cain and Abel, and ties in with the occult theory that Cain was the first vampire in history, but that's an aside. Though this also serves to strengthen the point that Arknights has always been deeply influenced by religious mythology and symbolisms.)

Back to the topic, I would also argue that his design cleverly reflected this hidden allusion. His uncanny colour palette—white, red and black—could be interpreted as a reversal, so to speak, of Jesus's darker robes and dark hair (as he was so often and popularly depicted to be). His entire design screams vampire nobility, but there's something uncanny about it, which was highlighted when we were first introduced to him in Chapter 10 (or was it 11?). He was described as an ordinary-seeming nobleman, one who wouldn't look out of place speaking about current politics in Victorian telly.

More than that, though...although he wears black and red, 'traditional' vampire colours, his main colour is obviously white. White hair, white clothes.

Both the absence of colour, and the colour of purity, innocence, and rebirth.

Duq'arael is also the 'Prince of Blood'. Amiya, during their confrontation in Chapter 13, asks him what does blood means to him. As a concept, as a symbol——a meaning. Now his answer here isn't that important (although it's curious that he equates it with suffering, especially that of the Sarkaz's), but there's a hidden symbolism bomb here: Blood symbolised passion. When someone angers us, for example, we say that it makes our 'blood boil'. When our lover arouses us, or when we were afraid during a horror movie, we say that it gets 'our blood racing'.

In line with this, Dukare's goal——what he hopes to achieve by sacrificing so many people, including his own people——is to give the Sarkaz, who had been robbed of not only their homes and lands but also their entire identity, who had been brutally dehumanised and discriminated against for centuries, salvation.

At least in his perspective. He spilled a single drop of blood for them, a drop of pure Teekaz blood, in order to give them this salvation as well as to once again summon their original sin in the form of the first Originium. He even goes so far that this is their curse——the curse of being a Sarkaz, the curse of Originium. The implication here is that he wanted to SAVE them. But because he's twisted, because he's 'inverted' Jesus, he accomplishes that by sacrificing others on the cross instead of himself. A selfish 'saviour'.

He also blesses the Sarkaz with his blood, granting them strength. Once more: misplaced salvation.

But wait, there's another layer to this.

Duq'arael's the ONLY one who saw himself as such. He has a saviour complex despite his pretenses to be indolent, and obviously, due to the crimes and sins he committed, others saw him merely as a murderer, a monster, and a blood purist. Someone who can't let go of the past, and is still heavily fettered by it——someone who blatantly refuses to let go.

He, after all, killed his elder brother out of disappointment. He also testifies that he saw several other Kings of Sarkaz come and go during his long life, and with each passing one, he grew more and more disappointed, more and more disillusioned. More and more jaded. That is why he wanted to kill Amiya too; obsessed with slaying her, even. Not because he's blindly obsessed with murder in itself (perhaps not only because), but because he's past the point of saving. Which was his tragedy, and one that Amiya and Logos mourned after they pushed him off the Feranmut.

This motivation of offering salvation is also likely why he agreed to help Theresis take Londinium. He had alluded to it himself; his ultimate goal or even his motivation wasn't to rebuild Kazdel, especially not as the shitty mobile city that most recent Sarkaz remembered it as.

No, he wanted to 'save' them. To offer them salvation; to return their birthright, which is the entire world of Terra, to them. Back from the hands of the Ancients and the Elders, outworlder races who once wrested it out of their grasp and then proceeded to give them misery for centuries. Millennias, even.

Again, that is his role——The False Saviour.

I don't get why Chapter 13's title was 'The Whirlpool That Is Passion' at first, but then I realised that HG was being sneaky. They couldn't possibly call it 'The Passion of the Vampire', which would be TOO on the nose, so that's why they call it that:

The Whirlpool (symbolising Dukare being twisted by his past and his disillusionment) That Is Passion (the Jesus symbolism). It's very clever.

In addition to all of the above, on their 4th Anniversary art, his artist drew him with a white lily. The flower of (you guessed it) purity, innocence, and most importantly, rebirth. It does work with his image as a vampire, plainly speaking, and the Master of the Crimson Court who's obsessed with the purity of the blood, but I'd say it's more than that, since the white lily is also Mary's flower. Mary, as in the Mother of Christ.

So, no, The Sanguinarch isn't a bad villain. While he is undoubtedly a war criminal (wouldn't say that he's misunderstood, since he's an absolute dipshit nonetheless), he's not 'just' a psychopath.