#the sword you see is symbolic and oh never mind

[thephoenixcave]

“Hmm I don’t like that belt you’re wearing… let’s do something about that”

[mysticalserenity-tarot]

🌟 What's coming for you in the next few months? (Pick a pile)

{How to pick a pile? First, take a deep breath with your eyes closed to clear your mind. When you open your eyes, don't hesitate – pick the image that immediately grabs your attention or stirs up a memory. Remember, you can pick more than one pile if you feel called to. If none of the images stand out for you, it means there's no message for you at this time. You can always come back to it later.}

𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣

Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3 (from left to right)

Hello, and always a huge thank you to everyone for your incredible support, it means a lot to me!

In this collective pick a pile reading, we'll explore what's in store for you in the upcoming few months. Let's see where your energy takes us.

Disclaimer: This is a collective reading I picked up on multiple energies, so please only take what resonates and leave the rest. When something resonates you usually feel a light energy and in your heart you can feel it's your message, and the pic that attracts you is a clearly sign.

𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣

🕗 PILE 1

5 of Cups, 10 of Swords, The Emperor

(I'm sorry, this is going to be pretty long 😅)

Hello Pile 1, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

First thing I notice: Your cards have all the energy of freedom, and I sense many free-spirited people in this pile, those who do not conform to any strict rules. I also sense some writers amongst you. You prefer to struggle on your own rather than asking for help - oh, my dear Pile 1, I feel you. You need to know that asking for help is not a shameful thing to do. Your loved ones will be more than happy to hold your hand and guide you. You don't listen to anybody, but those that have your best at heart are willing to bring you to higher heights. I sense that you're currently experiencing a period of stagnation, even some conflict with yourself. You may have been hurt by something or someone which put you in a state where you feel like you don't want to do anything, but please do not neglect yourself. I promise better days will come for you. While some of you may be experiencing a dark period, remember that the light is always at the end of the tunnel. Therefore, my advice to you is to never give up and let challenges faze you, as challenges are all lessons, and I promise you'll come back stronger.

What's coming for you are better days indeed - brighter days! I see you getting in a position of authority, and leadership, which will make you stronger and proud of yourself. For others, but a just a few, you may encounter a masculine figure with leadership qualities, it may be your boss or even a potential lover, perhaps your boss will turn into your future lover – I sense a connection here. In the spread in front of me, you're literally looking at this person. They could be a fire or earth sign or have those prominent in their chart. [ friendly reminder, tarot is all about energy and not gender ] Either way, there's going to be stability in your life. This is highlighted not only by the numbers present on the cards, but also by the prominent colors of brown in your spread, which symbolize stability, earthy vibes, and peace. You may also undertake shadow work, which will help you connect with your inner child and foster happiness and peace within yourself, making you stronger and resilient when facing hardships. I also sense orange, which indicates success and encouragement. You're being encouraged to move forward, and steer clear of negative energies which can only bring misfortune.

In conclusion, whether it's a pushing or a willing move, I foresee calm waters in your near future, allowing you to regain lost peace and energy. Some of you may physically travel to another country for holidays or even move permanently. I sense that you may be feeling a bit anxious about this, which is natural when stepping out of your comfort zone. However, these changes will be advantageous to your well-being and overall happiness.

Freedom, transformation, and struggle are crucial themes for you in the coming months.

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 1.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together. [I will be providing more details on my paid readings in the future. Keep an eye out for it]

🕗 PILE 2

2 of Pentacles, the High Priestess, Temperance

Hello Pile 2, and welcome to your reading. Let's dive in!

I sense that you're currently juggling multiple things, stuck between two distinct paths. It could be about love or career. Some of you are indecisive about job opportunities, while others are uncertain about whether to stay or leave a relationship. Trust your intuition if it feels toxic, and listen to your heart. I feel like many of you are evaluating whether to confess something to loved ones.

In the coming months, I foresee you regaining balance. You'll place more trust in your intuition and listen to yourself more than ever. You'll find balance in various aspects of your life, possibly juggling between career and love. Many of you have detached from the divine/universe, perhaps even abandoned it. However, in the coming months, you'll reconnect with the divine and strengthen your relationship with it. Overall, you'll prioritize your own needs, and the universe (or your beliefs) will bring you to a point of desperation so that you can learn from this lesson and focus on yourself. I'm casually singing on my mind the song "a flash in the night" by Secret Service may signifies unexpected insights or moments of revelation that help you navigate the challenges ahead - which is confirmed by the Ace of Swords coming twice in your reading, and for some also a sign that it's your pile - maybe you listened to it lately or you were born in the 80s, same period when this song was released. Take it how it resonates. It also indicates a need to work on your root chakra for those who aren't, which will be beneficial for grounding and connecting with the earth - the High Priestess may indicate a blessing in disguise involving the Akashic Records; self-discovery - you're going to learn more about yourself, which will also bring you to make better decisions and beneficial only for you.

2/22/222 may be significant (and ironically this is pile 2! 😁) also, it indicated clever decisions which you'll make or have to in order to get close to your goals and reach success. I believe in you, guys!

Balance, inner strenght, reconnection with the divine are important themes for you in the upcoming months.

Thank you for allowing to read your energy, Pile 2.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together. [I will be providing more details on my paid readings in the future. Keep an eye out for it]

🕗 PILE 3

8 of Cups, 2 of Wands, Knight of Wands

You're leaving something hurtful behind, aren't you? I feel like you're fed up with suffering and moving towards the bright light - well done, beautiful! But there's still uncertainty about whether to accept that job opportunity or that potential romance. You're seeing others realizing your dreams and you're here like "when it's going to be my turn?" Both of these choices have a waiting period, as the saying goes, 'good things come to those who wait.' This is exactly what your reading represents. If you're evaluating a decision, go for it because it will free you from the burden. You may resonate with pile 2, check it if you felt attracted to it.

In the upcoming months, you'll experience the sweet breeze through your hair, the feeling of lightness in your feet, and the warmth of the sun on your skin. Many of you are stuck in your comfort zones, and I know it isn't easy to leave them. However, if you don't try, you'll never know what opportunities await. Your passion will be reignited, and you'll find joy either with your loved ones or alone. Some of you will finally take this "risk" and you're going to celebrate this big achievement and finally be proud and love yourself more, which is also the key of manifestations coming into fruition. Others of you are going to meet a youthful energy, like a knight taking you on adventures. This person, whether a lover, friend, or family member, will bring you new experiences and might even pull you out of your comfort zone. Take it as a sign from the universe that you need to step out of your comfort zone. My dear, you're too focused on work/studies and likely have exams, you need some relaxation and experiences/adventures that will light your mind. Keep pushing yourself, but remember to take breaks to not get stuck in this negative energy causing you to burn out sooner or later.

Leaving what no longer serves you, stepping out of your comfort zone, and finding exciting new opportunities, are all important themes for you in the coming months.

Thank you for allowing me to read your energy, Pile 3.

Note: -If you enjoyed this and my other readings, and you'd like to support me further, you can do so on my ko-fi, I'd greatly appreciate it. It's not mandatory.

-For further guidance or a personalized reading, feel free to book a reading through my Tumblr DM or email [dvinecrystl@gmail.com]. I'm here to help you navigate life's challenges and find clarity. We can decide the price together. [I will be providing more details on my paid readings in the future. Keep an eye out for it]

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ANY LIKE/REBLOG/COMMENT IS APPRECIATED, ALSO IF YOU LET ME KNOW IF IT RESONATED.

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

ALWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EACH ONE OF YOU'S SUPPORT, I'M GRATEFUL 🤗🤍

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Please note that I used AI language bot to help improve grammar and spelling in my readings, as English is not my first language. However, the interpretations and insights provided in my readings are all my work, based on my intuition and the cards' symbolism.

Disclaimer: Tarot readings are for entertainment purposes only and are not meant to predict or dictate your future. The cards provide insights and guidance, but the ultimate power of choice lies with you.

[threepandas]

Bad End: The Nunnery

The Queen's portrait was a magnificent thing. A masterpiece of light and color, detail and delicate symbolism. She was immortalized. Forever in the prime in her life. The height of her beauty. Regal and magnificent as the day the King first saw her.

She was gazing to the left, face cool, and too those who might not know her? She might even seem cold. But, according to her? She had been a WRECK. Terribly nervous that she would trip or embarrass herself. She had been, after all, new to this country. Still uncertain. Standing before a VERY important figure in both the social and political circles of her new home.

So she defaulted to her "princess mask" as she called it.

Focused on her maid.

It? Was one of many such stories the Queen has told me. Over tea. On walks in her garden. Practicing etiquette or dancing. At meals. The King often joining in fondly. Reminiscing about those earnest and awkward early days in their marriage. Assuring me that my own will be just as warm and lovely.

But...

I know it will not.

Otome games. Oh, otome games. Why did I ever love you? What could I have done to anger you so? That you would cast me in to a role such as this? The woman to be scorned. Who must dedicate her life, work and work and WORK... only to have it all ripped away. Have everything she's ever known stolen by some upstart. One with no training, no support, no IDEA of what she's doing.

Who will lead everyone and everything to disaster, RUIN, with her careless tounge and unthinking ways.

Too Rule is not a GAME.

It is a SACRIFICE.

The crown not some trinket you wear just to match your DRESS! The crown prince some man you marry for mere LOVE! If love comes, you are blessed. Lucky. But the reality is? You sit on a chair that bleeds you dry. Beneath a crown of suffering. Asked to make impossible choices. Blamed for things beyond your control. Expected to live, bleed, then die there.

With some gods damned DIGNITY.

Can she do that? CAN SHE? Your pretty, flower brained, indecisive child of a lover? The one who is so "different" and so "carefree"? Who's lives has she held in her hands? What futures? Does she even KNOW who our current trade partners are? What the tax on sheep's wool is?

For that matter...

Where were YOU?

No. My husband to be? Will never marry me. I know there will be no happy ending here. And... and it hurts. Because dispite KNOWING my "role"? My destiny? Time moves slowly. Day by day. And I have a schedule to keep. A part I must play.

Unlike my Cannon counterpart, I am not haughty. Nor am I cruel. I behave as best I can, for a young lady of my station. Dignity, compassion, but with leadership. I am being trained, after all, to be the future Queen.

I play with my young brother-in-laws. Rolling balls in the flower garden. Clapping games. Listening to them practicing their reading. And as they grow, practicing their swords. I attend my lessons. Attend the rare party. Barely see my birth parents, who were only too happy to all but sell me off for power.

And my fiance?

Can barely tolerate me.

Cruel "jokes" and mud. Only getting angrier when I do not shriek and howl like the upset child he expected I would be. The more he gets punished for trying to torment me, the worse a witch I apparently am. Clearly, having planned it all. His poor mother is distraught. His father furious with his tutors. Who is allowing this behavior, they wonder? It is certainly not them.

But they can not be everywhere. So instead, I am brought where they can supervise. I do not mind. Find quite joy in how the Queen plays with my hair instead of her fan. How the King will pick me up, when I was small enough, to place me on his lap and show me his work. Then sets aside a chair, so we may "work together" as though my lesson's work could ever rival his own in importance.

They had wanted a daughter.

Love their sons.

But...and here they always trail off. The weight of something heavy and unsaid passing between them. The King hand usually warm, cradling, on my head. They do not want to say it. Worry me so young. Or worse, traumatize me.

After all... the King's family has a nasty paternal lineage trait, in which boys tend to try and kill the competition. Be it their siblings, parent's, or sons. They don't... share well. It had been flavor text in the game. For the "only kind to me" type prince.

Daughters however? Generally normal. Tend to take after their mothers.

The King had widely been known to want twenty and maybe a prince... if he HAD too.

They got several prince's instead. Worse, it had nearly killed her Grace to give birth to them. After that? The King refused to try again. Turned his hopes to his future daughters-in-law instead. It... it was beyond what I could have ever dreamed.

It was WARM. Dream like.

Gentle.

They radiated the sort of strength and dignity that made you WANT to listen. To lean into them and be protected. Sitting with the Queen in her parlor, side by side, as I leaned against her? Cradled against soft fabric and rich dyes. Her unique perfume delicately filling the air like tendrils of mist in a dream, the scent of tea and the melodic hum of her voice as she talked. It was like a beautiful trance sometimes.

Or when the King took me riding on his massive beast of a warhorse, just because he knew I loved the scared up old menace. I had to sit practically in his lap, side saddle, because the old grouch was a gremlin who wouldn't behave otherwise. But WOULD let me pet them with enough bribes.

I... I tried to be a good child.

A daughter they could think fondly off.

And... and I knew it would HURT. It would HURT so, so fucking bad. Not to lose my ASS of a fiance. No, he was a fool. But... but to lose the closest thing I had to parents in this world. I... I didn't want to go...

But.

BUT!

If I must? Then I would be well trained. Have a spotless reputation and dignity befit a royal. His Majesty could no doubt help me find a new engagement befitting my station. And I doubted her Grace would just toss me aside. I... I hoped.

When the Protagonist came? It was every nightmare I'd ever had. Endless scandal and horrifying indignity. Even my political rivals, my social foes, were grimacing. Were taking me aside to "freshen my make up" so I wouldn't have to see my intended behaving so... unforgivably.

Just fornicate in public, why don't you?

Can't be any LESS subtle.

I held the fiancee of the heir to Minister of Defense, a lovely girl I had known but not well, as she wept. The son of the prime minister's fiancee stared, grim faced, into the distance. She had come from several nations away as part of an alliance. I offered her my guest rooms. Whatever she should need.

Things spiraled.

They played out their happly little love story. Acting as fluttering children as their actions caused chaos and destruction all around them. She refused to choose. Somehow her father allowed this. I kept myself in the public eye, knowing better then to hide, for all that I desperately wished too. It payed off.

Someone tried to frame me. Spread terrible rumors about henious acts. To bad that everyone had SEEN me suffering with dignity and grace, in public where they could watch me.

It seems I was not the only one to reincarnate.

Why could not just be happy? Fall "in love" and steal one live from one soul? Was your greed so great? Did it really anger you that much? That I would not play along?

It certainly angered His Majesty, the rumors. They were unforgivable, according to Her Grace. But... BUT, sadly, the girl was pregnant. And the idiot was their son. The other idiots their allies foolish, foolish offspring. What could be done?

Simple.

Send them to His Majesty's brother.

It was, after all, tradition to spread out after coming of age. What with the whole "I want you dead" tendency that ran in their family. All the better so as to not step on metaphorical toes, as it were. And the King? Had one surviving (for now) brother. The high priest of the High Northern Temple. Good and remote.

Perfect for banishment and a life of reflection.

That, however, left me I reminded them. I was met with matching smiles. Adopted or marry the next youngest prince! Obviously. Ah. I see. But wouldn't that be-?

The queen takes me arm, tucking it in hers, and tells me not to worry about it. Leads me towards the gardens. Have I seen the new flowers they've just ordered? They are quite lovely. I had not. I let myself be distracted. Lean my head against the Queens shoulder as we walk. And finally... relax.

I'm safe.

The Queen smiles. We are joined by the King, his expression warm. I feel at peace. Protected. Treasured. I love them so much. A warm and perfect family. I'm glad I don't have to leave. I say as much and they laugh, hugging me.

"Oh, of COURSE Darling! We would NEVER let you go!"

"That's right, my dearest. You're here forever."

[bitter-me]

Mortals and Fools

Lyney | M. Reader

----------

"Love makes you break all the rules.."

----------

For centuries he live, never had he come across such a bright and joyful human.

He always smiles... as if he doesn't have a care in the world.

The Fae was intrigued by this, how come this human be so lively with all the things going around him? He had lived long enough to knew just how cruel the world truly is.

The world is cruel.

He had fought tooth and nail for his country, with a sword and blood on his hands. He brought his country to victory and glory. Even if it was centuries ago... the memory is still fresh in his mind, like it was just yesterday.

Filled with curiosity and interest...

He stayed.

He stayed and watch as this intriguing human does his shows. Bringing "magic" to life through his tricks and illusions.

.

.

Magic is merely a trick. An illusion. And yet some like to believe it. They see it as an escape, an escape from reality. The moment you stepped into the Opera Epiclese you entered a wonderland where magic truly exist. Where the impossible seems possible.

That is the essence of magic and entertainment.

A simple trick, a blink and you'll miss it, a flick of a wrist

It's so simple yet it's enough to catch everyone's attention and bring wonder and joy to their eyes. The way their eyes shine every time a trick is done. Quite the mesmerizing sight. It's always a joy to be able to see them.

It's the same thing with love.

"Is that what you truly believe?"

"Huh?"

"That love is just as mesmerizing and wonderful as magic?"

Lyney turned his head to the voice and saw none other than the Fae himself, [Name] [L. Name]. Living for hundreds of years, he knew for a fact that love isn't as wonderful as Lyney says it to be.

Love is cruel.

So cruel... it hurts you to your core and there's no cure for it. Therefore.. you'll continue to live with an aching heart. Forever hurting. And nothing can change that. Nothing can cure it.

"I do, yes." Lyney smiles softly as he looks at the Heliotrope on his hand, twirling it between his fingers. "It's a wonderful thing, isn't it?"

"To me it's not. You believe in the spell of this thing that you call "love." It's revolting." The Fae huffed as he crossed his arms, he sat there at the window sill as he watches the human he had learned to call friend tend to the flowers he's going to use for his show.

That's another thing he can't wrap his head around. Why the flowers? And why Heliotrope? Of all flowers? Shouldn't he be using roses?

Either way, he barely cares enough to ask.

"Revolting? Why is that?" Lyney asked, looking up from the Heliotrope to meet [Name]'s gaze. Curious as to why the Fae have such a horrible view of love. He knew that [Name] is immortal and had lived for hundreds of years, so what had he gone through to have such a point of view?

"Try as I will, I just don't understand it. Love is for mortals and fools. It never turns out quite the way that you planned it. So why do you break all the rules just for love?"

.

.

At first, he doesn't get it. Why Heliotrope? He doesn't understand the appeal, especially because Lyney's a magician. Why not roses?

It was later when he learned the meaning of the flower... it was later when the other gave him a bouquet of them... it was later when he gave it.. smiling from ear to ear... saying those sweet words to him as if he truly meant it from the bottom of his heart...

Those oh so sweet words...

Never would he thought he'll have the luxury of ever hearing him say those words and to him, no less.

At that very moment... [Name] finally knew why the magician prefers Heliotrope than roses....

Because they symbolizes devotion and eternal love.

Oh..... OH....

"'Love is for mortals and fools.'" That's what he said and he meant it with every word.

For his heart ach every time he set eyes on him. Love is cruel as it only brought pain and suffering for him. He knew that this wouldn't last and yet....

Why..?

Why must his heart beats for this mere mortal? This mere magician?

Was it the way he smiled at him? The way his eyes seems to glow brightly every time the magician saw a glimpse of him? How he laughed? How he acted? This is all so confusing to him...

"'Try as I will, I just don't understand it.'" Oh how true those words were...

He can't understand it... Love... Loving someone.. is such a foreign thing to him and what he knew... it brings nothing but pain and despair...

This won't last... none of this would last... how could it not?

Loving a mortal has always been a curse to immortals.

He'll die.

One day he'll day and [Name] could no longer see that smile of his, a smile that could brighten a whole room. Such a lovely mortal... such a lovely human... such a lovely magician... such a lovely person... such a lovely...

Lyney.

For the first few years, [Name] would always refuse to call him that... always calling him, "Human" every time. But over the years... as time passes... [Name] had grew fond of that name and therefore, start addressing him as such.

"Lyney.... My dear Lyney.."

"If love is for mortals and fools..."

"Then you can call me a fool."

"I Love You Too, My Dear Lyney."

.

.

.

.

.

"I'm sorry it took me this long to say it to you...."

"Your skin may not be as smooth as before... your hearing may not be as good as before... your memory... may not be as good as before.."

"....Unlike me who remain the same.."

"But similar to my never changing appearance... similar to my eternal youth..."

"My love will still remain the same... My Dear Lyney..."

[sophswritingthings]

Im so sorry this is veryyy long but I just love your writing so so so much and this is a very self indulgent idea of mine that I don’t have the writing capability for 😭

Okok so I just remembered that scene with akemi and Mizu where akemi was totally complimenting Mitzi’s eyes and I knowwwww it was a distraction but what if instead of akemi it was reader and it was a genuine compliment???

Like let’s say Reader is a noblewoman (or the Japanese equivalent) who Mizu is temporarily acting as a guard for and while reader is in her garden pruning all the flowers she’s like talking about how the hydrangeas are her favourite and that this variety is her favourite and then Mizu asks why because to her it’s just a dumb flower and she finds it stupid that a random noblewoman is spending her time valuing a flower over something more important

But then but then reader turns to Mizu and says it’s because the blue reminds her of Mizu’s eyes and then whispers that its beautiful but Mizu can’t tell if she’s saying that to her eyes or to the flowers so cue gay panic and while she’s all taken aback and trying to hide her surprise/flusteredness (bdcause Mizu is in so much denial and is trying to remain stoic as hell) reader cuts off a flower and hands it to Mizu while saying that it suits her while smiling softly And thennnnnn a few days later reader notices something on the end of mizus sword and guess what.

ITS THE HYDRANGEA THAT MIZU TOOK HOME TO PRESS DRY IN A BOOK AND USE AS A CHARM ON HER SWORD. THEYRE GAY AND IN LOVE YOUR HONOR. GAY AND IN LOVEEEEEEEEE

pairing: mizu x fem!noblewoman!reader

warning(s): light swearing

a/n: mizu and royalty is maybe my favorite paring just because being called “princess” by her lives rent free in my mind 🫠

summary: mizu must guard you, a noblewoman, to get the information she wants. what she doesn’t know is that she finds much more than the information she is looking for.

word count: 673 words / 3,615 characters 

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mizu watched you with careful eyes. her eyes were trained on you, every delicate movement, every snip of the shears for your flowers.

she had never seen a lady do such things— especially not a noblewoman such as yourself. a princess, in this time, you would be considered.

she always assumed that princesses were stuck up, with their head so far in the damn clouds that they couldn’t see the real world from so high up. that they never got their hands dirty.

but here you were— hair tied back, wearing what looked to be an old kimono of yours. it was covered in dirt, and so we’re your hands.

yet you looked happy.. content, even.

“hm. hydrangeas we’re always my favorite,” you murmur. “they come in so many different colors, you know?”

“yeah?” she replies to your comment, her eyes adverted. she didn’t have any interest in your flower talk. but she would humor you, because she did happen to like you as a person.

“oh, yes. everything from blue to pure white.” you nod your head, that gentle smile never leaving your expression. “blue was always my favorite.”

“.. was it, now?” her attention snaps back over to you. blue.

blue wasn’t a color she rather enjoyed. it always reminded her of what’s she was.

“it was,” you slowly rise to your feet, holding a bundle of blue hydrangeas to your chest. “they remind me of your eyes.”

her—her eyes?

mizu feels herself freeze up, her eyes almost wondering full as the moon, but she kept herself calm as she could.

“I know people don’t rather like your eyes. because they symbolize a part of you that people would rather like to ignore than acknowledge it,” you hiss. “but.. I think they’re beautiful. they look like the sea, the sky. or simply the hydrangeas I hold now. It’s a beautiful color.”

your expression never faltered. It was always soft and gentle.

you.. really meant it.

she could tell just from the look on your face. you were serious. you really enjoyed a part of her she hated so goddamn much.

“.. thank you,” she whispers, trying to recover from her fluster. she hoped you couldn’t hear it in her voice.

“of course,” you snip off one of the hydrangeas, placing it in the palm on her hand. “have one. they suit you, mizu.”

her hands shakes as she fully takes the flower from you. as if the exchange had never happened, you return back to your gardening. 

she stands there, her expression one of surprise and almost amusement. but she had to shake it off—she had a job to do.

a girl to protect.

and she wasn’t going to let such a sweet soul die on her own faulty hand.

so, she collected herself and stood at her guard post until the day was over.

“sir?” you poke the man in the side, “you haven’t happened to see mizu, have you? very tall, long sword—“

he stops you quickly, “he was sparring outside. your father asked him to share some of his skills with the young.”

you nod, thanking him quietly. you make yourself to the courtyard like area, peering around the door.

you catch a glimpse of mizu—seeing that she was indeed teaching some of the young of your kingdom her skills.

you were prepared to call out to her. head off to the gardens again.

but you paused, noticing the small flower that was pressed to the base of her sword.

you smiled, your face turning a rosy pink color at the sight. she enjoyed the flower, did she..

if that was the truth, you had no problem providing her with more.

you slowly approach her, careful not to scare her. you didn’t need to be cut, that was for sure. 

“mm—hello,” you hum. “you liked the flower, than..?”

she glanced down at the base of her sword, almost as if she had forgotten it was there. her lips curl into a small smile.

“I did. I really did.”

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a/n: and anon idk if you know this— but hydrangeas in general symbolize heartfelt emotion. and better, blue ones specifically symbolize gratitude! - me and my expanse knowledge of flower language 

[mysicklove-main]

A/N: Tanjiro writing to his long distance partner bc thats so cute and im in love with him

My Beloved,

I feel as though a part of me is missing without you by my side. I find myself constantly looking for you, even though it’s no use. Oh how dearly I wish you were here. But even so, I feel at peace knowing you are at home and well rested. Safe from harm.

I can’t contain my questions. So please make do with my ramblings.

How are you? Are you sleeping well? Do you feel lonely at home? Have you been keeping busy? Has Shinobu been visiting you? Where Has your hair grown out since my absence? You haven’t been going out at night, right? Is your finger still bare?

I’ve been growing quite worried with the time apart. I feel as though you may find another if I leave for too long.

I’m sorry, I know you would scold me for thinking these things. I wish desperately that I could hear your scolding. But I can’t stop the thoughts that creep on me in the night.

Nezuko is doing fine. She’s getting stronger by the day. She misses you immensely. It’s strange to see how uneasy she is without you. I don’t blame her. I wonder, if you were

Inosuke and Zenitsu are also getting stronger. I hope I can keep up with them. I train day in and out hoping to not fall behind. I think I am getting stronger. I have been working on Hinokami Kagura. It drains my body, but still I push forward. I have to master it, even if it is such a slow process.

At night I find myself daydreaming. Maybe one day you could call your husband lover a hashira. Would we live together peacefully? Or would I be gone on missions like these? I don’t think I could bear to leave you for long. It’s so hard t But I am getting ahead of myself. I am only doing this to save Nezuko. And of course to protect you! I don't need to become a hashira.

I hope my crow has been delivering the gifts properly. I wish I could see the way your eyes light up when you receive them. I’m trying not to let the separation get to me, but when I think about these moments it’s always so hard.

I’m getting distracted again, I apologize my love. The crow should have delivered you the jewelry box. A kind woman sold it to me, and please don’t worry! I promise that it was fairly priced! I hope through its journey that it didn’t get chipped. But I know you don’t care about those things. Either way, I hope you use it well.

My beloved, I do have a favor to ask of you. I hope this is not too much to ask, but the same woman from the market told me about something that cannot seem to leave my head. She explained that many soldiers from the Meiji period used to tie fabric from their lover's kimono around the hem of their sword. It was a symbol of good luck, and that they will always be together no matter the distance between them.

I thought it was…romantic. It made my cheeks burn at the thought. I really I would love if I understand completely if you don’t want to tear a part off. But I can’t explain the joy I would feel if you did. I would treasure it dearly.

I have been avoiding the real reason I wrote this letter and I can’t go on without saying it. Oh, my love, I miss you dearly. I miss the scent of you. I miss your smile, your laugh. I miss waking up to you every morning, that vision never seems to leave my mind. I miss your voice, your touch. I desperately crave it.

I’m sorry. A man shouldn’t act like that. Tengen left his wives for months, and was completely fine. I wish I could do the same. It’s been five weeks and the fight seems to dwindle in me without you here.

I’m trying though. I won’t give up. I will make it home to you and then I swear I’ll never leave you again.

A couple more weeks until I am home. The thought of you in my arms once again makes me feel dizzy with need. I will come back safely for you.

So please, my everything, please take care of yourself. I can’t bear the thought of you being unwell. Please stay safe and don’t walk alone at night. Please eat lots and sleep well.

I will write to you next week with more updates. I promise the next one will be less about me and more about you. I want to hear everything about how you are doing.

I await for your reply, and hopefully the fabric.

I love you more than words can describe.

Forever yours,

Tanjiro

[iamnotyourgodsherald]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Fanfic: A Great Night.

Chapter 2

Contains: Heavy Flirting, Protectiveness, Fluff, Danger Kink Implied, and Talking Out Confusing Feelings, Coffee Date.

Warning: Mention of Slavery, Abduction, and Unwanted Sexual Advances. 18+ NO MINORS

We climbed down from the roof we escaped to into a little hidden garden that was tucked away from the sight of the market down the street.

The Andraste’s Grace that was surrounding us in this garden was now blooming under the moonlit sky along with lots of Blood Lotus and Lilies. A large fountain bubbled water in the middle of the garden. Music floating along in the wind from the market's minstrels.

“Oh Andrastes Grace! What a beautiful flower.” I dotted, touching the soft petals. “I didn't think I’d find them here, they’re naturally a wildflower.”

“You like that flower?” Lucanis asked curiously.

“It’s not my favorite but I do like it. It has a very clean smell...”

“I see.” Lucanis cleared his throat, making his way out towards a nearby gate. “What is your favorite flower then?”

I followed after him but didn't answer. I was always nervous sharing THAT kind of personal information with others. Sharing ANY kind of personal information. It could lead to a messy road and could lead me into a trap later. Survival was always a must for me.

Still. His eyes looked at me so genuinely, and I felt my resolve weaken. Like any safeguards that I put up are starting to crumble to anything this man wants.

Especially now, after we shared that deep kiss in the library.

Lucanis however looked slightly put off when I didn’t answer, turning his head away as we walked into the market together.

I sighed, my heart beating quicker.

“Felicidus Aria.”

“Bless you.” He smirked.

“Ass.” I laughed, punching his arm. “That's my favorite flower. Why you want to know that is beyond me but… It's a rare flower. Got that way from over foraging for the root. People use it to make Ambrosia, but I love it for its…symbol.”

“Its symbol?” Lucanis tilted his head.

“It’s also called the Silent Plains Rose. My clan used to move through the Silent Plains as we traveled back and forth in between Tevinter and Nevarra, hoping to spot one as we traveled through. We considered it lucky. That our journey was blessed somehow.”

“You said you are from Antiva. That Antiva is your home. You never mentioned you were part of a clan.” Lucanis noted.

“Two things can be true at the same time, Lucanis.”

“Is your clan-“

“No. I dont think they’re gone. I hope so, at least. It’s been twelve years since I saw them.”

My mind wandered a bit to that little Dalish boy fighting his fellow friends with wooden swords and listening to his Hahren tell stories around the campfire. How innocent and happy he was. How unaware. I wondered. Who would he be if he didn’t stray…?

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?” Lucanis gently prodded.

“Does it matter?”

Lucanis took a minute, pausing to look around us. He then pulled me over to a spot by a wall not occupied by people or a vendor and leaned against the wall with me.

“I just wish to know more about you. You know much about me, but…” Lucanis trailed off, trying to find the words again. “You yourself are mysterious. I also figured you didn’t want to talk with people moving around you.”

“Mystery is hot~”

“So I’ve been told.” He said slyly, the corner of his lip curling into a smile. “You’re also avoiding the question. If you don’t wish to talk about it-“

“Fine! Fine. You might as well know a little bit. I better hear about your tragic backstory as well, Lucanis. I’ll make sure to interrogate you as well for your favorite things.” I chuckled.

He only chuckled back, now watching me with soft but focused eyes.

I adjusted, letting the memory of the events come back to me. “I… I was abducted. When I was 14, I strayed too far from camp. I was training with my bow and got lost. I wandered until evening, finding a group of humans. I went to them for help, going against the teachings of my Hahren. I just wanted to go back home and thought maybe… They could help me find a clue of where they were. They took me instead. Tevinter slavers. They traveled with me and a few other prisoners until they needed to make a supply run in Antiva. It was there where I finally got loose and ran for it through the streets of Antiva City. I ran into a passing Antivan Crow with the slaver hot on my trail. In a last moment of desperation, I pulled the knife from the Crows belt before he could stop me and when the slaver grabbed me, I plunged the knife into his throat. I was told that I kept stabbing until the Antivan Crow stopped me.”

“That's how you became an Antivan Crow.” Lucanis said slowly.

“Yeah. Twelve years later, here we are.” I said as I took a bow. “Now you know my story.”

Lucanis frowned, his eyes towards the crowd for a minute, deep in thought. He then turned to me.

“Thank you for telling me. It probably wasn’t easy.”

“No, but you asked.”

He smiled at me, his hair flowing down his shoulder.

I blushed as he smiled and stammered as I quickly walked into the crowd.

“C-Come, let’s have some fun! You still craving that coffee?” I asked hurriedly.

Lucanis seemed to perk up a bit, his eyes softening. Almost looked desperate.

“Badly.”

“Let’s go find some. It’s still early in the night.”

————————————————

We took off, walking around the busy streets to find a small late night coffee bar.

People inside were drinking, loudly singing and dancing, and even some sex workers were sitting on some people's laps, trying to seduce their way to coin.

Ah, home. I love it.

However, Lucanis looked extremely uncomfortable. He sat down at the bar and looked around, closing his eyes for a second. He took a deep breath and seemed like he was… listening? After a minute of him doing that, he seemed to calm a bit, and then looked at me.

“What?”

“You okay?” I chuckled.

“Yes, just… getting my bearings.” He said, yawning.

“If this is too much-“

“No. I WANT to be here. I need coffee or I am not going to be a very pleasant person to be around.”

I laughed and walked over to the bar, sitting on a stool.

“Let’s get you your fix.”

The barista looked back at us, a pretty Antivan girl with warm earthy skin and long, wavy dark brown hair. Her eyes, deep pools of amber. Her smile appeared and she walked over to us.

“How can I help, gentlemen?”

“Hello gorgeous-“

“Two caffe, please. Two for him as well.” Lucanis interrupted.

I stared at him as the girl chuckled and walked away.

“Right away.”

He looked at me with a confused face, his eyebrow going up.

“What was that?” I asked.

“What was what?” He shot back.

“The complete lack of charm? The interrupting??”

“I want my coffee, I do not want to waste time flirting with the barista. I am already very close to murdering the man in the back corner of the room, smacking his lips as he’s eating.” Lucanis ranted.

He then looked like he had seen a ghost and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Oh Meirda… I had this same conversation with Illario in a place like this.”

“Your cousin, I’m guessing?”

“Sí. My cousin.”

“I see. You sound fond and… not fond of him.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Tell me about it.” I leaned in.

“Another time. Perhaps in private. Suffice it to say that my cousin… acts like you a bit. Far more skilled though.” He said cheekily.

“Far more skilled?! Fenhedis- How is he more skilled than I?” I huffed.

“First of all, he actually can kill a guy in one stab.”

“Oh come on! I am an archer! I’m much better with arrows. Trust me, my master gave up on me using daggers.”

“All I am hearing is excuses.” He sang.

“Fine. You teach me then.” I spat back.

The barista came over with our cups, placing them down for us and smiling at me.

“Drink up, signori”

“Grazie, signora.” I purred at her.

I then turned to Lucanis who was already sipping his drink, his face showing mass amounts of elation and comfort after the first sip.

I looked around at everyone having fun  and dancing, and then looked back at Lucanis. His eyes shining in the candle light, his hair shimmering and his skin glowing. He seems to have settled in nice for a moment. Like his whole form changed just from a sip of coffee.

Fair though.

Never get between an Antivan and their coffee.

Though I did think about how uncomfortable he was walking in. Being surrounded by people. It must’ve been harder than ever for him to be social after being locked away and tortured for a year.

I just hoped I wasn’t forcing him to be uncomfortable. I just wanted him to be happy. To have fun and just relax.

Why? Why do I care so much about HIS happiness? Why is that the only thing on my mind? I wasn't this way with Davrin. Or Taash.

Why is Lucanis’s happiness really important to me?

A hand abruptly grabbed onto my shoulder and a human man turned me around in my stool to face him, pushing himself in between my legs.

“Well hello there, pretty lady~ Couldn’t help but noticed you looked a little lost in thought. Howz about you and I spend the evening together, ey? Get your mind off whatevas gotch you down. Whatdaya say?~”

I chuckled, playing cute.

“Oh my! So forward! I don't know…” I giggled.

If he thinks I’m a woman, I am not going to argue with him. I don’t know if he knows his own name with how much beer is on his breath. I just don’t want another fight to break out.

Lucanis got up from his chair, and pushed himself between the man and I, staring the man down with a very intense and sharp look.

“I am afraid they are with me tonight, signore.”

The guy stumbled back a bit, looking Lucanis up and down. 

“Who ere you, then? Huh? Some well dressed noble twat not fully off of mommas tit? The lady-“

“Leave them alone. You’ve had enough to drink and they are not interested. Just step away from them.”

“Luca, it’s alright.” I chirped out, my pants getting tight again watching Lucanis defend me. “I am not worth getting into a fight over.”

“You heard the whore. Get outta my way-“

Lucanis swiftly brought his daggers out and criss crossed them up to the man’s neck, keeping him in place.

“Leave. Last warning.”

The man stood there for a moment before backing away into the crowd and spitting at Lucanis’s feet.

“Whatever. Ere’s Plenty of other whores around!” He sang out.

Lucanis then turned towards me with a confused look.

“Luca?” He asked.

I jolted, slowly feeling hot with embarrassment.

“Uh, shit. It’s… a nickname. Your name just shortened.”

He sheathed his daggers, then his eyes looked down at my lap.

“Why are you…?” He trailed off.

“Why am I…?” I looked down and immediately crossed my leg over my other. “No reason!”

Lucanis laughed a bit but said nothing more on it, sitting back down at the bar.

“You didn’t need to threaten him. I can handle myself just fine. It’s not the first time I’ve used my body to avoid trouble.”

“Why? You may not be skilled with your daggers, but you can still use them to defend yourself.”

“I don’t just do it for that. I do it for fun~ To get close to a contract. To avoid trouble.” I began, sipping my coffee. “I am rather skilled at it.”

“If it works for you. I just… didn’t like the way he was touching you.”

“Why? I am sure you’ve seen worse with Illario if he’s like me.”

“Much worse.” He laughed, turning towards the counter again. “I don’t know why I didn’t like it. It just felt wrong.”

“Felt wrong? Are you alright?” I asked, now concerned.

“I…I don’t know. I feel different right now. Somehow.”

I then thought about the kiss. How he hugged my body close to his. How he gripped my hair. I rubbed the spot on my neck where he had bitten into, Feeling a tender area. Likely bruised.

“I think you marked me.” I chuckled.

“What?” He said looking over and coughed in surprise. “Ah. That.”

“Are we really wanting to avoid this conversation? Things got pretty… steamy in the library.”

Lucanis stayed quiet, staring into his coffee cup intensely. His eyes darted around, as if trying to find answers in the cup or on the bar.

“I… I thought you were gone.”

“So? I woke up.”

“You were out for 3 minutes.”

“That’s it?” I joked, looking at my nails. “I must be getting better at waking up. Last time I was knocked out was for 5 minutes and that-“

“That isn’t funny.” Lucanis said sharply.

I closed my mouth. Putting my hands in my lap slowly, I was now looking over at him.

“I… I was worried. Very worried that I would never get to… hear you again. I don’t know why that bothered me so much! I mean, I was about to start dragging you out of there to take you back to the Lighthouse. To get help. Until you started stirring.” Lucanis said strained.

“Luca…”

“And then when you awoke I just… reacted. I was relieved and then you smiled and I just…”

I felt the blood rush to my face, the urge to smile was rising and rising fast.

He… doesn’t know why he’s acting like this either.

“Kissed me.” I finished.

“When I started, I just couldn’t stop. Every impulse, every part of my upbringing told me to stop but I just couldn’t.”

I scooted closer to him, putting my hand on his back.

“You really… you really felt that way?” I smiled.

Why did that make my heart race?

“Yes… After that, all I… I wanted… The noises you made when I bit you were...” Lucanis chuckled softly, struggling with his words. “It was intoxicating…”

Our eyes locked. His dark eyes were almost lighter looking into mine. A color of dark chocolate brown colors, with hints of purple in the iris. His lips were now very close to mine.

“Intoxicating? You sounded like you really enjoyed them. I heard you moan as well.” I cooed.

I stared at his lusciously thick lips, putting my hand on his thigh. His body reacted by shuddering. I watched his throat gulp and looked into his eyes again. His breathing was getting quicker.

“I was about to do something crazy…”

“Kind of want you do something crazy…~”

The barista started ringing a cowbell. 

“Last call! After you’re done here, go find an actual bar to drink your sorrows away!”

I groaned a bit, looking over at Lucanis who moved away quickly, gulping down the rest of his coffee.

“Come on, Demitrix. Let’s… go find something else to do, I guess.”

I sighed and hopped off the chair.

“Are you sure? You looked tense the entire time we were in there.”

Lucanis just scoffed.

“I am always tense.”

“Still, I don't want-“

“I just want to do whatever you decide. Name a place and we will go there.” He interrupted.

Think, Demitrix. Think. What would be fun for both of us to do together? What would be familiar for Lucanis?

I suddenly had an idea. A smile curling on my lips.

“I have an idea. Two things need to happen first.”

“What needs to happen?” Lucanis urged.

“We need a change of clothes, and I need my bow.”

“Your bow? A change of clothes? Why?”

“Well, the reason why depends.” I smiled coyly.

“On?”

“You still got that contract on you~?” I purred.

“Of course?”

His face lit up with realization.

“Well. Let’s fulfill it.~”

(Continued in Chapter 3)

(Previous Chapter)

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

I see you very much as an expert on all things Rohirrim, so I bring to you this question, hoping I can pick your brain for info to use in my own fics (full disclosure). 😅

It seems to be a popular fanon that the Rohirrim/Riders of Rohan have tattoos, and that body art is a part of their culture. Do you have any thoughts or personal HCs about this that you're willing to share?

Thank you in advance! I appreciate you and your blog so much (if you didn't already know that).

Oh my goodness!!! I am so very honored to be thought of as a person who is knowledgeable about my beloved Rohirrim, and I hope very much that I can live up to that reputation. Thank you!!!

I’m not aware of any real textual evidence for body art among the Rohirrim, and the historical record in the medieval Anglo Saxon and Norse societies that Tolkien used as a reference for them seems to be disputed. But I absolutely understand and agree with the conventional wisdom that tattoos are a thing in Rohan. It just fits well with a warrior culture that has a wilder, dare-I-say more pagan aesthetic as compared to the smooth solemnity of Gondor or the formal elegance of the elves. And since they’re a culture that doesn’t document things in written words, pictorial representations such as tattoos and body art would be one way to fill that gap (along with their songs and oral traditions).

In my mind, tattoos in Rohan are common but basic—they’ve really only got the technology for the “stick and poke” method so the designs are kept simple because anything too elaborate is difficult to pull off well. They’re mostly in black line (using soot) but some have color using powder made from grinding up certain dried roots and plants.

Each village/community has its own distinctive tattoo motif that is worn by all of that community’s members. So you can tell just by looking at someone whether they’re from Upbourn (a fish because it’s a river town) or Dunharrow (mountain peaks since they’re in the White Mountains) or Everholt (a boar in honor of the wild boar that live in this part of the Firien Wood), etc. And soldiers also tend to share tattoo designs specific to their éored—getting your éored’s mark is a formal rite of passage for the younger members when they first get assigned to their company. These shared tattoo designs are important both for group cohesion and as a means of identifying fallen Rohirrim even if the deceased isn’t known to whoever finds the body.

Beyond these ritualized and practical functions, I do also like to think that there are some purely decorative tattoos among them as a means of personal expression and/or to help cover small scars that so many Rohirrim have from battle, riding accidents or other mishaps. Obviously horse-based designs would be very popular, as well as other flora and fauna of Rohan. But they’re a very sentimental people and so I think little emotional signifiers would also be very common (again, especially because they generally don’t have a means to pay tribute to beloved people/things in written form, this sort of symbol would serve the purpose of making some kind of record of those tributes).

In terms of specific people in my head canon: Éomer has a little simbelmynë blossom for each of the major figures in his life that he’s lost (forearm). Háma had a sun to remind him of his wife, who brought warmth and light to his life (shoulder). Théodred had stars in the shape of a particular constellation that is visible every year on his mother’s birthday (chest). Éowyn has a representation of her father’s sword (left wrist) and gets a quill (right wrist) to represent Faramir after they get married. (Faramir got a little running horse in her honor on his first trip to Rohan. He was glad he did it, but he never wants to sit through that again.)

Merry brought tattooing back to the Shire when he showed up with a tobacco pipe on his bicep (both for its association with Buckland and in tribute to Théoden, whose last words to Merry were about smoking together someday when peace was restored). Unsurprisingly, tattoos did not catch on with the other hobbits, but Merry remains very proud of it.

Anywayyyy…I hope that was in any way helpful! Thanks so much for asking!! I remain a huge fan and am so grateful to you for helping convince me to put some of my thoughts and stories out there vs keeping them all in the confines of my own Google drive!

[zolanort]

What is 'Hyrule's Excellent Adventures?' 👀

It’s a 16,000 word unfinished fic with 6 completed chapters that I’ll probably never actually post. It was basically just playing with a how-the-chain-met scenario from Hyrule’s PoV and has a galaxy-brained climax that I was extremely excited about, but I kinda lost steam after some of their canon first encounters were posted. Who knows though, maybe one day I will be inspired to wrangle it back into canon-adjacency. Or maybe I’ll let it go fully divergent? We shall see.

Here’s a silly snip from an uncompleted chapter if you want it.

———

“Hey Sky, want to prank Legend with me?” Hyrule said, just loud enough for the Veteran to overhear.

Legend narrowed his eyes at the pair.

Sky pretended to consider it as though Legend hadn’t heard. “I’m game,” he replied at last. “Have anything specific in mind?”

“What?! Sky—!”

“We’re gonna play the long game,” Hyrule smirked, holding up the blank disguise ring from the shop. “We set this ring so that anyone who wears it looks like me. Then,” he gestured to Sky, “you take this back with you to your era, and it gets passed down for the Vet to find one day.”

Legend halted mid-step. “Wait,” Legend turned, then pointed between Hyrule and Sky, eyes bugging out of his head.

Hyrule held up the blank ring, careful to keep it in Legends line of sight, and slid it onto his finger. It flashed briefly, and an angular red symbol formed on the gold surface.

“You—!” Legend made a strangled noise. He reached for his pouch, pulling out his ring box and poking through it until he produced a golden band adorned by a matching red symbol.

“Din blast it,” Legend swore, then laughed.

Sky spared a glance at Legend’s reaction, then back at Hyrule, a playful gleam in his eye. “I take it that this prank has already worked, then?”

“You can bet on it,” Hyrule replied, slapping the ring into Sky’s hand. “Legend has been convinced that I’m one of his predecessors for months.”

Sky laughed, then whipped back to face the veteran. “Wait, so that time when—?”

“Yeah, that was me, not the traveler.” Legend said, then paused, mouth curling at the edges. “Although, you really can’t blame anyone but yourself at this point, can you?”

They laughed.

Sky slid the newly enchanted ring onto his own finger, Hyrule’s features fading into place over his own.

“Hey,” he said slowly, “wouldn’t it be funny if three Hyrule’s walked back into camp?”

Legend smirked, sliding his own ring on in answer.

———

“Hey Wind.”

Hyrule nodded to the Sailor as he walked into camp. Wind waved from his spot on the ground next to Four, then looked back down. He and Four had been comparing shields. Hyrule continued towards Wild, who was oiling a cast iron pan.

“Hey Wind.”

A second Hyrule waved to the Sailor as he walked into camp. Wind looked up, waved again, then did a double take. The first Hyrule was doing his best (and failing) to keep from grinning as he watched Wind's eyebrows crawl progressively higher and higher up towards his hairline. Second Hyrule sat on a log with a sigh, stretching and cracking his neck.

“Hey Wind.”

A third Hyrule made his way into camp, walking over to crouch next to Four, who bristled and leapt up like a startled cat. The smith grabbed frantically for his sword, then stopped when his hand caught on the handle. He stared between the sword and Third Hyrule, face so full of conflicting emotions that they all canceled back out into an oddly neutral expression.

“What are you two up to?” Third Hyrule cocked his head, looking between the two identical shields on the ground.

“Oh, just comparing shields.” Wind’s eyebrows had made a miraculous reappearance. “We noticed some similarities. Uh, how about you?”

“Oh that’s neat! Legend and I found out we have the same ring today, so that was something.”

“Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to tell you guys” Wild interrupted from across the camp, “I have all of your old clothes!” He pushed a button on his slate, suddenly donned in Hyrule’s clothes. Plus or minus a hat and a pair of trousers.

First Hyrule blushed, hiding his face in his hands.

“Wait,” second Hyrule called, smirking, “you didn’t used to wear pants?”

“It was a phase,” First Hyrule cried, wilting in place next to a wheezing Wild.

Third Hyrule laughed. “What kind of phase would make you not want to wear pants?”

First Hyrule sank onto the ground in silence, face still hidden.

“I— It was more comfortable,” he hedged, “pants are expensive! And constricting!”

—Second Hyrule nodded along smugly—

“and, well, the, ah, the stories said that the— they said the previous heroes— ah goddess, the hero of legend didn’t wear pants, ok?”

The camp erupted.

Second Hyrule leapt to his feet, mouth agape, as Third Hyrule leaned against Wind for support as they laughed into each other. Four smirked between Second Hyrule and First Hyrule, clearly having figured something out, before looking back down at the shields with a smile. Wild had his hands hooked under First Hyrule’s armpits and was trying to pull him to his feet (to no avail, as he was too busy sulking).

“What happened while we were gone?”

Time stood at the edge of camp, Wars looking around with a bemusement that was directly proportional to Twilight's confusion.

“Hyrule didn’t used to wear pants,” Wild informed helpfully, gesturing down at his own bare legs.

Time scanned the three-and-a-half Hyrules and the two shields with his singular eye, then returned his gaze to Wild.

“I didn’t either.”

The camp erupted for a second time.

———

So,” Legend smirked, sitting down next to Hyrule and splaying his bare legs out in front of him pointedly. “You wanted to be like the hero of legend, eh?”

“I will fight you, Legend.” Hyrule said, punching his arm in a way that wasn’t entirely unkindly and perhaps even borderline friendly if you looked at it in the correct lighting. “Wouldn’t want a repeat of the first time we met, would we?”

Legend laughed, rubbing at his arm. “Not particularly.”

“Can we agree that the order we came in doesn’t matter and that we are equally awesome in our own right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Swear not to use weird pet names like Time and Twi?”

“I would rather die.”

“I can make that happen if you ever try.”

Hyrule held out a hand and Legend shook on it.

Somewhere in the same forest, Time and Twilight sneezed in unison.

[yaeggravate]

nah sorry but HOW is dainsleif/kaeya STILL so slept on, even after they finally interacted? to the uninitiated, dainsleif is named after the sword of the legendary king hogni, also known as hagen, the son of alberich, a character from wagner's ring cycle, who kaeya is based on. in other words, dainsleif is literally named after kaeya's sword. whatever that means for their future relationship, and whether this is metaphorical or literal is unclear for now but hello that's crazy why are you as a man another man's sword

adding to that, in the previous patch we learned that dainsleif was carrying a ring with him, which is a reference to THEE ring of nibelung, which hagen (yes that guy again) was instructed to steal back by his father. and did you know that in order to use the ring the wearer must forsake love? i think you should know

not to mention the foreshadowing of a tumultuous and potentially tragic relationship based on their constellations. kaeya's a peacock and dain's ouroboros (snek). in hindu culture peacocks are often depicted killing snakes so you could say it's not looking good for mr dainsleif.

so basically you have two ways their relationship can go: either dainsleif is going to become loyal to kaeya, (which I can see happening because kaeya is the only khaenriahn we know of who isn't cursed or evil, and dainsleif would want to keep it that way. dain was also the royal guard of khaenri'ah and kaeya's ancestor is anfortas who briefly took over as regent when the king went awol, so there might be some kind of debt he wants to repay by protecting his descendent.) or kaeya is going to kill him <-obviously the story isn't THAT dark and they'd never permanently kill off a playable character lmao so if he does die i think it would be because he's freed from the curse, which according to zurvan is the reason why he's alive, implying that he died once. ouroboros does symbolize eternity so maybe kaeya is actually the key to breaking the curse of immortality, but what happens if you remove the only thing keeping him alive?

oh, and fun fact, the quest in which they meet is named 'destined encounter'. connect this to mona's prophecy of kaeya's fate catching up to him and you literally have him meeting his destiny. we're also told dainsleif loves alcohol and even mixes his own drinks, it's like they deliberately created him as the man of kaeya's dreams

with all this in mind, it's really strange to not see more people excited about the potential of their relationship, because they are in a unique position of being two characters with no pre-established relationship becoming closer throughout the story, where both of their fates remain a mystery, as opposed to so many of the other characters who remain stagnant and whose stories are already told.

[lifesteal-headcanons]

Oh also btw I projected mid-gender crisis so my bad Abt the Trauma folks o7

New Headcanon just dropped :3

Watsonian / Canon Characters ofc! (:

Zam isn't truly a prince, he always wanted to dress like a princess as kid. He was denied by his parents, both because they were poor & bc they saw him as “not masculine enough.”. He dreamt of being better and richer than he was, well I mean growing up on a farm that was bug, rat & skulk infested so bad to where he had to kill the mice himself before they gave him rag. Although it made him immune to Skulk, it tarnished his mind. Using dreams of being a prince(ss) in a clean castle where nothing was cluttered to where trash was to his calf when he sat down. Where he wasn't concerned about skulk tearing his house apart or mice infesting his food. Making himself his mind overflow with their hateful arrogant thoughts to when Zam was 17 then, him & his friend, *3)10 signed up for STARR But when said friend backstabbed him on a Simulation to gain favor of the Watchers. He joined a new up & coming simulation called the “Lifesteal SMP”. He changed his name to Princezam and signed up to the server. Inwhich he was welcomed with open arms to, especially since friends of his like Ash or Pangi were already apart of the group and were delighted to see his familiar face after he left them to go into STARR. Luckily after a few rough patches they all forgave each other. Granted that doesn't mean Zam doesn't wake up & try to tear his own wings or horns out. Or that he doesn't hear the beckoning & belittlement of their transphobic comments thrown at him. Although when he does he finds a blade stuffed into his enderchest named the “Pretty Princess Kitty Blade” bc although he was no longer on Kings. He still kept a sword named after it everywhere he went. Accepting that he may never know if he's a girl or a boy, or if he's either at all. All he knows is that he isn't what he was made to be. He's what he wants to be, and anyone who wants to challenge that clarity will meet the tip of his blade. At that he'll wake up to nightmares of his old home, his oldself. Just to realize. That being on a server where people could easily hunt you can kill you as a pacifist it bad. But he'd rather be hunted down then have to Hunt down mice again.

-🪻👑 Anon My bad if this made anyone uncomfortable o7 anyways take Cat symbolism :)

.

[letsgetdowntobismith]

How did you even get into the sword making business?

Oh wow my first ask!! 😁 👍and actually a rather sweet story so get comfortable cause we’re going on a trip down memory lane kiddo 🙏

So growin up my parents where STRICT people, I’m talkin: 7 o’clock bed time, all work must be done before I can draw and eat, always wearing gods awful dresses with those frilly sleeves and fuckin ruffle on the skirt bottom, no going outside past 5 (and even then I had rarely left the house), no playin with the other kids as my parents always had some neighbourhood issue with their parents and the way they where raising them to be (as she puts it) ‘brutes’ , to put it simply I was kinda lonely, parents trying to turn me into a little madam so I’d ’attract a man better’ I couldn’t do ‘boyish’ things essentially. They say that they were protecting me from corruption. Pathetic excuse to get me to change who I was for what they wanted me to be. The only thing I could do so I didn’t die of boredom was draw using a sketching pad and some shitty old dried out markers my parents had found most likey on the street, and even THEN what I was actually allowed to draw was very restricting, no blasphemy, no inappropriate drawings, the only thing that I was allowed to draw where patterns. I cant make this shit up, I assume my parents thought they were patterns for a dress but I didn’t like that, I wanted them to be used for a greater purpose. I wanted to have a greater purpose.

I had a neighbour who never really showed themselves or went outside to interact with others, I guess looking back now we had a lot more in common than I thought but anyway, during the day time I would cautiously look outside my window considering I wasn’t really allowed outside much. At the time I didn’t fully comprehend what everything was in their home front, there were some tables, a couple mallets on the walls and a large stone furnace with a couple of different sized metal slabs (of course I know now these were called anvils), really nothing interesting but at night would be a different story. My room window was facing his house, as I would sleep at night id see spark past my window, sound of metal grinding and screeching and smoke would fill my room. I was always so scared of the shadows it would cast in my room, I didn’t know what the hell it all was. Parents told me our neighbour was ‘a brute’ ‘a corrupted person who would bring harm and violence to this world’ ‘up to no good’ and the list goes on. I grew to fear my the next door neighbour, I hated what they did and how my parents said they would harm people; so I would spend my nights watching the shadows on the walls whilst cowering under the bed sheets listening to the whistling and clanking from the window, though, despite the terror I felt watching the room fill with bright sparks there was always something so mesmerising about it.

I still don’t know what had come over me that one night, perhaps it was the lack of food that day, or the amount of sleepless nights I had suffered OR maybe even curiosity to help my mind relax but as I had gone to bed that night, and the noises and lights began I had decided to look out of my window for once during the night time. What followed was the moment I realised the world is not defined by my parents word.

A strix, with pale blue skin, top of their head adorned with different symbols running downwards leading onto their face, long ears pointed downwards with metal hoops hanging from random parts and as they turned to face the direction of my window their eyes, pitch black sclera with a glowing orange iris. Taking their blistered and stained hand reaching into a bucket of bubbling water and pulling out a spike before throwing it back into the fire and grabbing a mallet off the nearest wall, the once dull scenery of this workshop now shined and dazzled with bright colours of red and amber as the strix whilsted its familiar tune I’ve heard many times before, only this time it felt more comforting than scary. Every move they made was done with such grace, taking out the glowing hot metal from the ovens and smashing them repeatedly with a hammer watching as all the sparks fly out. The metal was then moulded and crafted into a long swords with fancy swirls around the handle. A new found wave of inspiration washed over me (till this day I’m not sure why but Michael’s guess was I had finally seen something new and it was exciting) as I ran to get my sketch book and pen, immediately copying the outline of the sword before drawing detailing on the swords blade.

I had awoken the next morning to my dad shouting, crying bloody murder but not from inside the house, from out side my window. Confused by this I walked over to the sound and there was my dad, MY notepad in hand, holding it up against the face of that strix from last night. “Look what you’ve done with your violent ways, exposing my child to such weapons” he should have known this was bound to happen, I mean seriously my room was right above his workshop!! But I suppose that he thought after scaring me so much I would be too afraid to do investigate what the strix was up to at night. My dad ripped the paper with the sword on it and slapped it onto the strix chest, they took the paper and started to analyse the drawing I watched as their now pitch black eyes study the paper a faint smile going across their face. I don’t think my dad was aware that I was listening because when he had walked in he told me the neighbour was going to hurt me and kill me with their weapons if they ever saw me by that window again. I knew that was a lie.

I wasn’t scared falling asleep that night, I felt nothing really. I awaited for the sparks, whistling and screeching but none of that came. Confused I once again walked up to the window now peering out at the glowing workshop with the strix sat ontop of one of the anvils eyes fixated on the drawing in their hand. “Did you draw this?” They said, such a gravelly and corse voice but one laced with intrigue and happiness. Now looking up at my window with their new glowing orange iris’s back. I didn’t know what to say really, all the terrible thoughts I had about this person because of my parents words had been completely false. “My names Orpheus, you are Runica aren’t you?” All I could do was nod my head. “That’s a lovely name, say, this is a quiet design you made.” Again I didn’t respond “Would you like to see it come to life?” They sat up from the anvil and walked over to a wooden barrel with a couple of handles sticking out and proceeds to pull out the sword that I had watched being made the night before, placing it on the anvil with my drawing beside it, unravelling a leather kit inside filled with different small chiseling tools each with a unique ending to them. Now grabbing the end of the sword Orpheus’s hand begins to glow orange as the sword begins to copy heating up the metal. Without thinking I walk closer to the window, opening it up all the way and begin sitting in the window ledge watching their every move. They tie their messy brown apron around their waist “this” Orpheus said placing their hand on the metal square “Is an anvil, I use it aswell as some other tools to be able the morph and shape it into what I desire” they reach over and grab a mallet off the table next to them “This here is a called a cross -peen hammer, you may want to take note of that, and its job is to shape the metal and this will help us get the basic blade and flatness of the sword, do you follow?” I nod my head along as I observe and listen intently to their voice. The way they spoke with such passion really changed my perspective on things, things my parents had told me about them. They aren’t doing this because they wish to bring harm, they do this because it’s art. That night I had spend my evening asking many questions, learning all different types of mallets/tongs/anvils and their purposes, whilst watching them make my drawing a reality upon that sword until the sun peered over the hills signalling morning.

That day I had spent all my time in my room, drawing new patterns only this time on different weapons. Once Orpheus had given me a showcase of all the different weapons they’ve forged I was a drawing MACHINE. Sickles,syths, knuckle dusters, flails you name it I had already drawn it. Of course I had to keep this a secret from my parents as they probably would have beaten Orpheus to death with their own tools so they had given me one of their books with all the different sketches they’ve made over the years, notes on temperatures, hammer sizes and metal quantity. During the day I would design, by night fall I was a blacksmith. Orpheus had set up a ladder so I could come down undercover, get a better veiw of their workshop and let me tell ya it’s even more magical up close once you see everything for their actual size. The anvil was almost as big as me!! After days of preparing and sketching different work for Orpheus, they would take my designs and show me how to craft them but they were always adamant on ME doing it, they would sit off in the corner on their chair observing me. In a way I’m greatful for that, at the time I was a little annoyed frankly but as I’ve grow up remembering those nights of all that hard work and heavy lifting I can look back and think, I DID THAT. I believe this was their subtle way of showing me independence, I don’t have to rely on someone to tell me what to do.

Orpheus would sit off to one side and would answer any question I asked, but there was one answer that had always stuck with me. Orpheus’ worked during the night time as opposed to the day because of the light. There was something about the sun rays that would cause their eyes to hurt and strain resulting in such pain for them, however watching the red hot glow from the metal and fire was one of the only lights that Orpheus could bare witness too, the glow provided them with the ability to see light without the strain that the sun would give off. I always thought that was rather sweet, the fact that despite their difficulty they still managed to do something they loved and brought them joy, it’s the simple things that get to me honestly.

that’s what made me fall in love with blacksmithing and forging weapons, you don’t have to follow the rules, because there are none, forging is about making your ideas come to life and testing new ideas. If it works, great do it again!! If it doesn’t, melt it down and try again, you don’t have to get it right first time and you know deep down in your heart that with a couple of changes it will work you just have to keep trying. It’s art and I will never forget when I made my first dagger, it wasn’t perfect don’t get me wrong, could have been less bumpy, the leather on the handle was overlapping to much in certain parts and the soldering was um unique to say the least but I had done something for myself for once in my life, I had control over something. I kept going, I kept pushing the limits of what’s possible and always did my best; I owe Orpheus my life, gods knows what I would be doing now if I had just stayed away from the window, I wish to continue on their legacy and create all the designs they had made in that book they gave me all those years ago.

I hope they would be proud of me.

PHEW that was a long one apologies for the ramble but when I see the opportunity to talk about Orpheus I simply can’t pass it, I’ll speak of them until the day I die 👍

[tinysnailtales]

Thoughts from reading Yona of the Dawn Ch. 10

Ch.10 in summary: in a manifestation of her internal change, an enraged Yona takes a stand to try and save Hak from Tae-Jun and co but ultimately causes her and Hak's symbolic death when they fall from a cliff, leaving Tae-Jun and Soo-Won to grapple with the results of their actions as they grieve.

"She's like...a raging firestorm. I can't look away. Did her highness...ever look like this before? At the palace she seemed so young...and weak. Just an ordinary girl. But now, even though she's lost everything..."

Really Yona's "Wind Tribe moment"!! "Even though she's lost everything," she is taking a stance. Acting in spite of suffering. Not letting it stop her.

Repeating my end of chapter 9 thoughts with saying Yona's hidden power has been unlocked inside her. But she seemed like "just an ordinary girl," and well, she's not but she is. And also maybe there is power in being an ordinary girl! But for Yona specifically, she is ordinary in that she doesn't seem to have any special talents or abilities, at least not yet. She's not "good" at anything. But she is learning her own power and strength.

Summing Yona moving forward as "passionate, not passive"

"He's going to die" – look how big that text is! She cares so much about him.

We also get the very important and clear parallel to King Il's death. Yona did get there too late to prevent it, but upon seeing her dead father, she froze. Here, she dives into action.

No more just sitting and hiding and taking it. Yona embodies "stay afraid but do it anyway" What can she do? It doesn't matter. She has to do something.

The eyes here are really something. In Yona's expression you can see her terror and emotion and almost feel her shifting back into how she felt in the moment of her father's death. Tae-Jun's eyes are very expressive too.

It's also interesting how casual (and even excited) Tae-Jun and co are about killing Hak.

Grabbed by the HAIR! And then BAM! She chops it off. HAIR SYMBOLISM, BABY. It is a physical representation of her internal change.

This contrasts the opening scene, where Yona is focused on her hair and her appearance. Now that seems frivolous and doesn't matter. It's not even in her thoughts at this moment. That's another part of her transformation– figuring out her priorities/what really matters.

And she's never used a sword, but that doesn't stop her! She'll do whatever she can in this desperate moment. She just keeps going, such a difference from her prior numb, frozen shock.

Hak is kind of the ultimate motivator for Yona here. She has become progressively more active, but with Hak, acting on someone else's behalf becomes more personal.

Also...Yona the beautiful badass (and again, look at her eyes! The depth there)

"I won't let them kill him! I refuse!" – Yona's stubborn determination, like when she stood her ground against Hak ("I've made up my mind") when leaving the Wind Tribe but in a more perilous, escalated situation.

And the parallel to her father's death was clear before now, but here we get it explicitly spelled out. Yona won't let more people she loves die.

"I said...get away from Hak!"

I keep pointing to the eyes but there's such EMOTIONALITY in them. And Yona is an emotional character, so I love seeing that come across in her face.

We've got kind of the "looks like a mess but has never looked more beautiful" energy

Oh look, a close-up on her eye XD (yes please)

"But...is this really...Princess Yona?" – the transformed Yona, her self-discovery and change is evident to others too. She's almost unrecognizable in her appearance + actions.

"Hak! It's my turn to save you." – awww. There is so much weight to these words. How much Hak means to her, her feelings of guilt and incapability... This whole encounter has been a test of "new Yona" and it must really feel like it for her in this moment. It's a bit like if she fails to save him, then that's it for her.

The energy here is very "I rather than die (with you) than live without you" + "if we go down, we go down together"

"You idiot...run away! You can't do this! Hurry up and get away–" – I like this little combination of teasing Hak + serious Hak. Obviously he's not teasing her in this moment, but he affectionately calls her an "idiot." I feel like you get that a lot in dynamics like Hak and Yona, one calling the other an "idiot" when they prioritize the other instead of what's in their own best interest.

"No! Never! If you die...I'll never forgive you!!" – this is the second time Yona has said this, the first being in chapter 3 after Hak and her flee from the palace. Here, we get a significant pause/reaction from Hak, almost like he didn't believe her before or didn't take it seriously considering the circumstances. But Yona is showing him how serious she was and is. He's seeing her choose him + staying by his side over her own survival.

Just...woah, wow, yes. Beautifully depicted.

And all that's left behind is...HER HAIR.

We see that Tae-Jun actually does care about Yona and that there's more to him than appears. He can be short-sighted and irrational + take things too far (compare his "flirting" in the flashback of chapter 3 with Hak's flirting– I don't love all of Hak's flirting but he is self-aware of when he's doing or saying something somewhat repulsive/off-putting whereas Tae-Jun is not).

Tae-Jun is a mess and a menace, but as the second son, he's also probably trying to prove himself, and thinking Yona has died clearly leaves him feeling horrified and dead inside.

Like Tae-Jun, Soo-Won is shocked and affected by Yona's "death." And OOOOH giving Soo-Won the hair he so loved HA

"Princess Yona...has left this world" – and HELLO I scream not just about the HAIR SYMBOLISM but Yona's SYMBOLIC DEATH (and REBIRTH!) that is happening. She's crossed a threshold.

More of Tae-Jun's reaction: he's feeling guilty + ashamed and can't live with himself. He's tortured by his actions and wants (begs!) to be punished.

"Punish me! Please!" – the desperation. Tae-Jun's outward display works as an expression of what Soo-Won is feeling on the inside and holding in.

Soo-Won thinking of Hak and Yona and their shared past brings me back to Hak and Yona facing the Soo-Won revealed by his betrayal: "Would you authorize this awfulness, Soo-Won?" + "Are you satisfied, Soo-Won?" Soo-Won is facing the results of his choices. And he did choose this, but he didn't want this result specifically. He didn't want his friends to die, but he must accept the responsibility for what happened.

YOON! (I love Yoon) What an introduction lol "What a pain. A pair of corpses" (also also more symbolic death and HakYona are tangled together in it, both having tried to protect the other)

But hello to whatever he was singing prior to finding Hak and Yona. "Long, long ago...the great red sun was devoured. And when the world went dark..." is he also describing what's happening/what is about to happen with Yona and co?

[lucky-clover-gazette]

sounds like a bloodbath

hurt/comfort | 5198 words | vio & shadow, platonic/romantic/???

Shadow does self care. Vio does not. Takes place within the Four Swords Vampire AU by @kaitopitoo and @othervio on Tumblr.

Shadow winks—he winks!—and Vio wonders yet again what makes this kind of banter so easy between them. Probably not Hylia. Maybe there’s something in the water, like the bubbles. Maybe drinking Vio’s blood has made Shadow supernaturally attuned to his comedic stylings. Unlikely, but if so… talk about committing to the bite. 

read it on ao3 or under the cut, author's note at the end:

Shadow has been in the bath for six hours.

It’s starting to concern Vio, Shadow’s absence, making him feel like he’s not meant to be inside this castle alone. He knows the vampire wants him here (or at least tolerates his presence), but without Shadow keeping him company he tends to spiral into doubt.

They do spend time apart, of course—despite cohabitating, they sleep in different rooms, and often take private time to read or nap or, in Vio’s case, bathe luxuriously. It’s something he started doing after the third time Shadow fed off him, having been carried to a spare bathroom so Shadow could retrieve more alcohol disinfectant.

Despite his wooziness, Vio had badgered Shadow about the absolutely gorgeous and completely unused bath, a large marble basin surrounded by candles that hadn’t been lit for at least a century. It’s really more of a bathing pool than the tiny tubs found in most Hylian homes, intended for multiple occupants at once. While Vio had blanched at the idea of sharing the bath with anyone, he’d also made Shadow swear to let him to use it once he wasn’t on the verge of losing consciousness.

Shadow had, at first, dismissed the bath when Vio pointed it out. But he eventually humored him as he cleaned and dressed the bite wound, and even admitted that it was strange that he’d never tried it.  

“What stopped you?” Vio had asked, his words slightly slurred.

“It doesn’t sound very engaging. Maybe it would be, if I brought a book, but I don’t think you’d recommend that.”

“Hylia, no, are you insane? The whole point is to disengage. You just relax and enjoy the bubbles. When you get bored you stop, and then you’re all nice and clean for the rest of the day.”

Shadow had shaken his head. “When I need to get clean, I really need to get clean. Not an occasion for bubbles.”

“Oh, like after a hunt? Sounds like a bloodbath.”

That had made Shadow chuckle. Vio remembers being proud.

“Mmm, well,” Vio had hummed, leaning into Shadow’s touch, “you don’t need to hunt anymore.”

“What? Why not?”

“’Cuz I’m here, stupid.”

At that point, Vio hadn’t been able to see Shadow’s face. But he could picture the same inscrutable expression Shadow often wore in his presence, usually accompanied by silence. It hadn’t been a cruel reaction, or even a negative one, but it had given absolutely nothing away.  

Vio had felt a sting of rejection at Shadow’s response to his outward fondness, so much so that he’d briefly considered leaving the castle entirely. And still to this day, in such moments, he finds himself considering this. Not because he wants to leave—Hylia, not at all—but because of the way he assumes he makes Shadow feel.

Because Shadow has been feeding weekly for months at this point, with no sign of letting up. He still takes excellent care of Vio, and seems to enjoy the more tender moments between them in the aftermath, but there’s a hesitation there. It’s like, no matter what Vio says, Shadow still views him as a symbol for a part of himself he resents. And as many times as Vio reassures Shadow that it’s okay, that he doesn’t mind, that he doesn’t judge him for partaking in what has been willingly given, it never fully seems that Shadow has forgiven himself for what he has no choice to do.

And that’s just the simplest way to view it, as not being a choice. Honestly, Vio thinks it’s an inaccurate conclusion to draw. He’s been reading through vampiric literature, observing Shadow’s behavior, even occasionally catching him in earnest conversations about his feelings and experiences. And his current hypothesis (not that he’d ever admit it out loud) is that Shadow could absolutely choose to feed on someone or something else. He could hunt, just as he’s done for his entire life, and leave Vio unbitten. In fact, doing so would likely cause Shadow less emotional turmoil, and while their first consensual feeding had very much been something Shadow needed for strength, they could have come up with a better plan before he next wanted for sustenance.

But, without even really discussing it, they just… hadn’t. One week later, Vio had simply visited Shadow with a scandously bare neck and a reassuring thumbs-up. And so on.

Sometimes Vio imagines his past life colliding with his present. If he was to return to the knight’s quarters in Hyrule Castle with these bruises every week, it would definitely start some rumors, especially given his reputation as the most elusive bachelor among his peers.

Of course his reputation now is likely one of tragedy—a fallen knight murdered, or worse, kidnapped, by the evil vampire they all seek to eradicate. And if someone like Princess Zelda could see Vio now, with the marks on his neck and willingness to subject himself to Shadow in a way he himself doesn’t fully understand, she’d probably conclude that he is a brainwashed victim. Sometimes when even Shadow looks at Vio, it’s abundantly clear that his suspicions are about the same.

Vio wishes for a way to prove, definitively, that he is very much in control of what’s going on here. That the person in this arrangement with the most choice is him, and while he may be confused by some of the feelings the situation has created, he is happy to be in it. Happier than he’s been in most circumstances throughout his life, honestly.

 From childhood, Vio has been trained to serve as a knight under the Hyrulean royal family, selected solely based on appearance. It’s common knowledge among Hylians that a Legendary Hero is destined to protect the kingdom’s monarch, always resembling the short, blonde, and blue-eyed young man depicted in the castle’s stained-glass windows. In this generation’s case, four Hylian boys were chosen to fill that role, swearing to serve the equally young Princess Zelda.

Vio had only been eleven when he was pulled out of civilian life and thrust into serious training, adopting the full name “Violet” to modify the honorary title “Link” he’d been granted by the church. Even then he’d found it depersonalizing, but under the scrutiny of his parents, his rulers, and his new brothers in arms, he had accepted the call willingly.

A decade later, he can barely recall his name given at birth. In fact, if spoken aloud, it might legitimately count as blasphemy. He hesitates to share the details of his background to Shadow, all of his immense emotional baggage, even a few months into their cohabitation. It’s less pitiful, really, for him to simply be a knight by choice in the vampire’s eyes.

Because, fine: Vio cares what Shadow thinks of him. He really, really cares. It’s terrible and he hates it, and he has no idea how to stop.

It’s not the biting thing that does it for him, as much as Vio does enjoy the woozy aftermath. No, it’s the care Shadow shows him outside the context of bloodsucking: little things he says and does, observations he makes, and the calm satisfaction of silence between them. When they’re not bantering or discussing literature, they’re often doing their own things in a shared space. It may seem strange, in a castle with dozens of rooms, for the only two occupants to repeatedly end up in the same one—but strangeness, here, seems to be the norm.

Vio can’t name another person who has made him feel quite like Shadow does. Despite a relatively short time together, it just feels—and honestly, always has felt—like this is a person Vio is meant to find. It’s a kind of destiny beyond the church, beyond the Legendary Hero, beyond even Vio’s rational understanding. And that within itself is terrifying, because Vio prides himself on understanding everything he can.

Simply put, the way Shadow makes Vio feel defies rationalization. Vio is an adult person, not a child—but still, he finds himself thinking such ridiculous things as ‘it’s like we speak the same language,’ and ‘I want things to stay like this forever.’ Both notions are preposterous, and Vio fully acknowledges this. He doesn’t believe in soulmates, and finds the idea of having a ‘missing half’ insulting. He is complete on his own and always has been. Not that he’s had much of a choice in the matter, given his upbringing, but it’s what he knows.

Shadow surprises him, though. That’s the thing—the comfort he brings Vio is different from the usual comfort Vio normally feels, in controlled circumstances surrounded only by reflections of himself.

Shadow is not predictable, and feedings are basically his only routine activity. If Shadow was anyone else, Vio would hate these things about him. He’s resented the other knights for far less egregious offenses, any unexpected sentiments or disruptions to their training. But Shadow…

For some unknown reason, Vio actually likes when Shadow surprises him. Not always—but often, to the point that Vio eagerly anticipates the next strange, fascinating thing the other man will say. It’s much the same with his actions and interests, the hobbies he shares with Vio and the activites he prefers to do alone. It makes Vio want to share more of himself, and with Shadow’s encouragement, he happily does.

He never shares too much, though. Shadow can draw the blood from his veins, but he’ll never know what’s in his head.

It’s not perfect. This strange power Shadow holds over Vio goes both ways. When it’s good, it’s good—but  that sting of rejection from a failed interaction is equally intense. And it’s certainly not helped by Shadow’s tendency to speak less when Vio speaks more. Maybe it’s the fact that they fit together so well that makes these communicative barriers more obvious and distressing. And maybe, just maybe, Vio simply needs to get out of his own damn head.

But he still can’t help but worry, because six hours is a really long time for a bath.

Vio places down his book and surveys the library, a room that had made him literally jump for joy at first sight. If you checked out a dictionary from the greatest library in the world, and then searched for the word ‘library’ within it, that’s where you would find this library.

He remembers Shadow’s announcement earlier this morning, over Vio’s breakfast and his own empty plate. “I think I’ll try a bath,” he’d said, causing Vio to raise an eyebrow.

“Really? Why now?”

“It seems to help you relax.”

Vio had only narrowed his eyes. “I told you that months ago. Are you feeling more stressed than usual?”

Shadow had not answered, which was basically a ‘yes’ in Vio’s mind. Hours later, his spiral of self-doubt still spins.

He’s not so self-absorbed to believe himself the sole reason for Shadow’s stress—but what else has recently changed in the vampire’s life, besides his presence? On a functional level, Vio is many things to Shadow: food source, ally, witness to his lifestyle. But those are just the good things. Vio is also his natural enemy, a liability, uninvited company within his home. Hylia, there’s an entire rule about vampires needing an invitation to enter homes, all while Vio had just walked in!

No, Vio reminds himself, you did not just walk in. He attacked you and brought you back here, to make sure you survived and healed.

But you’ve overstayed your welcome. He healed you out of obligation—he didn’t want you sticking around. He drinks your blood because you offer it willingly, but he’d probably prefer hunting like before. You’re just desperate to be needed, wanted, understood. You’re the real drain here, and the stress is only going to make both of your lives worse.

He hates that he thinks like this, all these cruel things about himself on Shadow’s behalf. It isn’t fair to Shadow, to give him that much power, that much prominence in Vio’s life and mind. How much of this is truly about Shadow, and how much lies within Vio, an ever-present poison running through his veins?

Vio must never forget that he casts his own shadow. The more he is consumed, and thereby consumes, the more his poison spreads.

In some corner of his mind, he knows he’s being melodramatic. He knows that he’s incorrect, that his perspective is not reality, that he will sabotage himself if it goes unchecked. But he’s also frustrated, because he has these feelings, and he can’t just make them go away. He should be able to figure this out, or at least suppress the feelings entirely—it’s what he’s been doing for a decade, for Hylia’s sake!

For Hylia’s sake.

Is that all Shadow means to Vio? A symbol of rebellion against the Goddess and church? He is the most unholy thing that walks on two legs, and Vio knows the Goddess would not smile on their life together. Is that, more than Shadow himself, what Vio enjoys?

Perhaps that is the poison within him. Perhaps all his joy in Shadow’s presence is false, inseparable from his own resentment and spite. What other explanation could there possibly be?

This morning was the final straw, a sign that this arrangement between them simply is not feasible. And the more time Vio spends here, the deeper he gets, the more difficult it will be to eventually leave. Or to be left—Shadow could always kick him out. Or the Princess could finally make her move, bringing the knights to the castle, bursting the perfect bubble of domestic bliss they’ve been enjoying for the past several months.

How would they hold up in battle together, if they can’t even have a conversation over breakfast without Vio having a mild panic attack? It’s not usually like this—usually, he’s too distracted by the good time he’s having to think too hard about the bad times ahead—but it’s foolish for him to pretend any longer. And Vio may not have the strongest sense of identity, but he is certainly no fool. 

Vio will tell Shadow he’s leaving at once. He’ll pack a bag, grab a few weapons, a spare change of clothes, some first-aid supplies for the long trip home. Never mind that Hyrule Castle has never felt like home, while this place… again, never mind.

Six hours is a long time for a bath, and Vio can’t wait a minute longer. He walks to the master bathroom and knocks on the door.

No answer.

“Shadow,” Vio says sharply. “You’ve been in there for a while.”

Still nothing.

“Shadow?”

Vio can’t stop himself—he bursts through the door, hands over his eyes, hoping to hear a startled shriek or feel a splash of water.

Nothing.

Vio lowers his hand slowly to see a bath brimming with bubbles, the water colored charcoal and purple by the luxury products. At first he wonders if Shadow has somehow left the bath, but then he spots a tuft of purple hair, bobbing up and down.

“Shadow!” Vio shouts, rushing over to the side of the bath. He pulls the vampire up by the hair, lifting only his head up from the thick curtain of foam. Shadow’s eyes are closed and his skin is pale. He is most definitely not breathing.

“Hey,” Vio says, lifting Shadow slightly so his shoulders are revealed. He shakes him, to no success. “Shadow, hey!”

Vio’s mind races. Has he really drowned? Did he fall asleep? What kind of moron does that? Vio should have warned him, Shadow said he’d never taken a bath before—

“Uh… hello?”

Shadow’s eyes blink open and Vio finds tears in his own. He releases Shadow’s shoulders at once.

“Hi,” Vio says, still frozen at the tub’s edge. Shadow looks from Vio, to the bubbles obscuring his own body, and back to Vio.

“I fell asleep, didn’t I?”

Vio nods. “I thought you drowned. You weren’t breathing.”

The corner of Shadow’s mouth upturns slightly. “Vio… vampires don’t breathe.”

“Oh.”

“Sounds like someone hasn’t been doing their reading.”

Vio splashes Shadow, because he definitely doesn’t want him dead, but he still refuses to allow such a slanderous accusation.

“Hey!” Shadow exclaims, splashing back on cue, his smile now large and infectious. “Actually, wait, I like that shirt. No more splashing.”

Vio looks down at the loose peasant blouse. Pretty much everything he wears is technically Shadow’s—it’s not like he’d packed for the stay, and the shirt he’d been wearing during Shadow’s attack was shredded beyond repair.

“If you like the shirt,” Vio asks with a teasing lilt, “why’d you lend it to me?”

Shadow just shrugs, resting his forearms on the edge of the bath. He settles his chin on them, uncharacteristically relaxed, his eyes slightly lidded as he scans Vio up and down. “Looks nice on you. Makes you happy. And it’s purple.”

Vio frowns.  

“I’m sorry, was that inappropriate to say?”

“No! Hylia, no, not at all—”

“Because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’m not even sure why I—”

“I was going to tell you I’m leaving.”  

Shadow blinks, and the relaxation is gone. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Vio asks, creating more distance between himself and the tub.

“I’m sorry you want to leave. I must have… I must have done something wrong.”

“No,” Vio rushes to say, “it’s… it’s not you, it’s me.”

Shadow’s expression turns deadpan. “Vio, I might not get out much, but I’ve read enough books to know that phrase is always a lie.”

Vio’s fists ball up at his sides, and he so badly wants Shadow to understand. And maybe Shadow really does want to understand, but that’s only because he can’t see the poison Vio contains.

Maybe Shadow is part of the problem. Despite all of his feelings for Shadow, Vio doesn’t trust him to understand what’s in his head. But the thing is, Vio’s pretty sure that Shadow could be the kindest and gentlest person in the world, an excellent communicator and a lifetime friend, but still… it wouldn’t be enough to earn his trust. That unwillingness to trust—the real problem—truly is all Vio.

But if Vio knows he can’t let Shadow in, why has he stayed this long? Why has he researched his kind, helped him in times of need, treasured his physical and emotional company for months on end? He’s been foolish, ignoring the reality of their situation. The reality of who he is, and where he comes from, and the damage that’s been done to his mind and heart by circumstances outside his control.

Shadow makes it so easy to ignore what’s broken. Like a luxurious bath, or a soft animal, or a warm bowl of pumpkin soup.

But if Vio isn’t broken, he isn’t Vio at all.

He doesn’t want Shadow to change for him. He doesn’t want to drag him down.

And Vio, pathetic as he is, simply cannot allow himself to be changed. Even though he aches for it, even though Shadow makes him feel seen and known and maybe even loved, even though this might be his last chance to free himself from the Goddess’ chokehold that’s been suffocating his identity for a decade…

He may possess the Triforce of Courage, but Hylia, he is a coward.

“Is it because of the feedings?” Shadow asks, and he sounds hurt in a way Vio has never heard.

“No! Not at all. I don't mind that, I never have.”

“You must miss your friends, then. The other knights, the Princess.”

“Her? Definitely not. And the others... well, it's complicated, but that’s not why I—”

“There has to be a reason, Vio. I’m not going to force it out of you, or insist that you stay, but I don’t understand how you’ve made this decision so abruptly.”

You could insist I stay, Vio thinks, and he hates himself for it. What a pathetic, manipulative—

“What are you thinking?” Shadow interrupts, his hand emerging from the water to grip Vio’s arm. “You look like you’re in physical pain. You can leave, but please, make sure you’re well enough to survive the trip. The forest could be perilous, and the Princess will have questions. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Vio feels the tears in his eyes, and hates it. He feels his heartbeat, the lump in his throat, the way his breathing becomes shallow. It’s been years since he’s found himself in this place, so trapped and alone, even with Shadow just inches away.

“You’re not okay,” Shadow says, and glances towards the towel rack.

Ignore me, Vio thinks. Pretend you don’t see it—or even better, don’t notice at all.

And just this once, Vio wishes Shadow was like everyone else, either too distant to notice or preoccupied to care. Back in Castle Town he is just one among four, his own personality overshadowed by the legacy of the Legendary Hero, so much so that it’s been reduced to a single color. People see what they want to see—and Vio would fucking know, because he is people, and when he looks in the mirror all he wants to see is someone who’s okay.

And then there is Shadow: his dark, distorted reflection, so similar to him in nature, but completed removed from the world Vio knows. Removed from the royal family and their Legendary Hero. Shadow is living proof, in all his sullen morally conscious glory, that they are all so fucking wrong. It’s no wonder they want him dead.

“Vio,” Shadow says, now gripping both of his shoulders. “You need to stop thinking.”

Hylia, he can’t do this. He can’t just sit here and not say anything. Shadow needs to know it’s not his fault, there’s nothing he can do, it’s always just—

“Me!” Vio gasps, freeing himself from Shadow’s grasp.  “It’s me. I can’t be here and be normal about it. I am so freakishly happy here with you, and that terrifies me, because if this makes me happy, then it can also hurt me, and sometimes it does, because I have no idea what you’re thinking, and I’m constantly thinking too much, and it’s because of my shitty past that I’m like this and it’s because of your shitty past that you’re like that, and it’s not like that’s ever going to change, because people don’t change, not really, not in a way that matters. And you’re stressed too, that’s why you said you needed a bath! And I get it! I am stressful to be around! Especially since you hate drinking my blood, because I represent that part of you, the part that everyone sees as monstrous—but Shadow, I think it’s brilliant, and I can’t explain why, and I don’t think I ever could, so there really isn’t a point in trying. My point is, we need to safely end this before one or both of us gets stuck in an endless stress-loop for eternity, like for-fucking-ever eternity, because you’re a vampire and you live forever, and even if it’s totally great, even if it all works out, when I die it’ll be a whole thing for you to deal with, and that’s the best case scenario, and there are only so many bath products for me to use up before you completely run out so wouldn’t you rather just not?”

Shadow blinks.

For good measure, he blinks again.

“I don’t know, Vio,” he answers. “Would you rather just not?”

And there Shadow is again, saying the thing Vio least expects to hear. He can’t remember the last time that someone asked him, so plainly, what he wants. Not what he needs, or deserves, or sees as morally correct—what he wants.

“I want to stay,” Vio says quietly, slowly, softly. “I want this. I don’t know what this is, but I want it.”

Shadow nods. “I want you here, too. I would miss you very much if you were gone.”

“I just,” Vio sighs, looking down at his own hands. “It’s silly, but I can’t get it out of my head. I feel like… like I am poison. Like it’s not just in me, it’s inseparable from me. Melodramatic, I know, but—”

“Vio,” Shadow interrupts, and he seems genuinely shocked by the sentiment. “You are the opposite of poison.”

“What?”

Shadow considers his response for a moment, which feels to Vio more like an hour. He then gives him a small smile, settles back into the bubbles, and closes his eyes. He looks… relaxed. More relaxed than Vio’s ever seen him.

“I love this,” Shadow says, and it’s like the idea almost amuses him. “I thought I wouldn’t, but I do.”

Vio cocks his head. “The… the bath?”

“Yes,” Shadow nods, “the bath. Like I said before—I’ve never really had an occasion to use it. Didn’t want to clog the drain with entrails.”

“That’s graphic.”

“I’ll spare you the details. After all, it’s like you said: it doesn’t matter now. I’m not mauling forest creatures just to survive.”

“Yes, but that’s just—”

“And even if I was, you’d still be right,” Shadow continues, clearly pleased to cut off whatever self-loathing bullshit Vio was about to spew next. “I still would have loved this, and could have used it a very effective means of stress relief. It’s not like I didn’t wash the entrails off myself after my hunts—it’s more like, I probably wouldn’t have believed myself deserving of this kind of self-care. I acted like an animal, so I got hosed down like one.”

“That’s stupid,” Vio argues, his defense of Shadow as natural as breathing. “You’ve always deserved to feel comfortable.”

“You say that so easily,” Shadow counters, “but you refuse to offer yourself the same grace.”

“Because I know myself.”

“Don’t you think I know myself just as well?”

Vio crosses his arms, feeling like a petulant child. “Well, fine,” he grumbles, “but I’m not letting you think you’re alone.”

Shadow opens his eyes and turns to face him, seemingly satisfied with his case. “Those are not poisonous words, Vio. You are far too smart to play this dumb.”

And if it was anyone else calling him out, Vio would be done. He’d already be gone.

But it’s Shadow. And he’s right. So Vio stops thinking, stops talking, and decides to listen instead.

“I have been alive for a very long time,” Shadow says, deliberating each word before it leaves his mouth. “I have spent the majority of that time alone. I am acutely aware of the effect isolation has on a person. However, I also know that self-isolation is an entirely different beast. While there are many odds against me—the elimination of my people, the attitudes of the royal family and their subjects—there is no reason compelling enough to justify my loneliness. Loneliness is something I have chosen, for these many decades, and it has been to my overall detriment.

But then I came upon you, purely on accident. I brought you here but did not expect you to stay. You surprised me, Vio. From the moment you arrived, you’ve surprised me. And you make me feel like I am not alone. None of that has to do with your willingness to be fed upon. It’s just you.

You are not poison. You don’t symbolize anything. You are a person—a whole, complicated person—and you are allowed to feel. You are allowed to want. You are even allowed to fail, and be forgiven, and try again.”

I hope I’m allowed to cry, Vio thinks, because he absolutely is.

 It’s quiet, restrained—tears run down his cheeks, but he doesn’t sob. He tries to freeze up his face, his standard response to this nonsense, but under Shadow’s watchful eye he finds himself undone.

“Vio,” Shadow says gently, eyes returning to the towel rack on the wall. “I really want—I really want to comfort you, touch you if you’d allow it, help with anything you need… but I am currently in a compromised position.”

Vio sniffles and nods, getting to his feet. “Of course. I’ll go, so you can—”

“Thank you. And once I’m out, maybe we can discuss… what this is.”

Vio winces at his own words, but appreciates the sentiment. Shadow is offering to communicate, something he’s admitted can be difficult. It’s good. Shadow deserves to have a say in his presence within Vio’s mind.

“I’ll wait in the library,” Vio says, heading for the door. He turns back to the bath with a small grin. “Just don’t fall asleep again.”

Shadow puts up his hands. “Hey, the whole point was to relax! You should be glad it worked so well.”

“I prefer you alive, Shadow. Even if you’re already dead.”

Shadow winks—he winks!—and Vio wonders yet again what makes this kind of banter so easy between them. Probably not Hylia. Maybe there’s something in the water, like the bubbles. Maybe drinking Vio’s blood has made Shadow supernaturally attuned to his comedic stylings. Unlikely, but if so… talk about committing to the bite.  

Back in the library, Vio assumes his place in his favorite comfy chair. Shadow has gotten into the habit of perching on the armrest, sometimes even reading over Vio’s shoulder. Vio likes this closeness more than he’d like to admit, and would welcome more like it.

Maybe all he has to do is ask. And maybe Shadow will ignore the question, meet his affection with indifference, wear that inscrutable expression that torments Vio so relentlessly.

But maybe he won’t. And even if he turns Vio down, maybe he’ll do it kindly. Maybe he’ll tell Vio what he does want, which is something Vio’s longed to know for months. And if Shadow doesn’t know what he wants, well… they can be confused together. There are far more terrible fates than that.

And as for Princess Zelda, and her vendetta against the last living vampire in Hyrule?

She’ll have to do without her Legendary Hero. Or, at least, one-fourth of him. And if what she wants is a fight, Vio will oblige. And he’ll win. Him and Shadow, together, will win.

That is, if they’re forced to defend themselves. Vio has just assumed, these past few months, that Zelda would inevitably bring her forces to the castle, demanding Vio’s ‘freedom’ and Shadow’s defeat. She’d have the people of Hyrule behind her, not to mention the knights, and the Goddess herself.

But what if… what if Shadow and Vio went on the offensive first? They could start slow, even disguise themselves, traveling to smaller towns far from Hyrule Castle with armloads of vampiric lore. They could show the kingdom the truth about Shadow’s kind—their long history of coexisting and even loving Hylians, before the royal family turned everyone against them—and leave it to the people to decide which side they want to be on.

 Maybe people can change, if you let them. And maybe that change can matter.

It’s a good idea, Vio thinks. At least, it has potential.

He can’t wait to tell Shadow all about it.

Author's Note:

To be loved is to be changed… or something. Thanks for sticking with me through this one, I know it was a little more melodramatic than my typical fics. It’s been… a weird month. Still, I’m pretty happy with how it came out. Writing Vio and Shadow in this AU is interesting because they’re so different from their manga counterparts (for one, Shadow is WAY classier), but so many of their emotional beats are the same.

And thank you, as always, to @kaitopitoo and @othervio for creating this very inspiring AU. I hope nothing here conflicted too hard with your vision.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Mukuro Ikusaba VS Kaede Kayano [Danganronpa Survivor VS Assassination Classroom]

[NOTE: This is a scheduled post.]

Hifumi: Kaede Kayano, the tentacled terror from Assassination Classroom!

Leona: And Mukuro Ikusaba...The sixteenth student, lying hidden somewhere in this school. The one they call the Ultimate Despair!

Hifumi: ...

Leona: Oh yes I did...Oh YES I did...

Hifumi: Ahem...Never underestimate just how far some people are willing to go to protect or avenge the people they care about. Be it their family or their friends...Their sisters or the one's they love...

Leona: Apparently, choosing to stop dying your hair is one thing those people do! He's Hifumi and I'm Leona!

Wiz: And it's our job to analyze their weapons, talents and skills, to see who will win a DEATH BATTLE!

Leona: Take your seats folks...We're about to get into one of the most complicated histories of our line of characters right from the god damn start...

Hifumi: To get started though, as we've explained many times previously, and will most certainly explain many times in the future of this series, Ultimate Students are those scouted by Ultimate Academy's, like Hope's Peak, because they excel in a certain area of expertise. And for Mukuro Ikusaba, that area just so happened to be military conflict and terrorism! And would eventually be crowned with the title of the ULTIMATE SOLDIER!

Leona: When she was a very young age, the quiet, and rather notably deranged girl, Mukuro Ikusaba, took a keen interest in this career path. She won survival game tournaments and writing for militaristic magazines. She eventually decided to CHOOSE a life of conflict, pain and tragedy, and joined up with the infamous elite mercenary group known as Fenrir, symbolized by the symbol of a wild howling wolf. Funny 'cause...most people are kind of forced into that stuff...Hey, I never actually met Mukuro. Makoto talked a lot about her, but what's her deal?

Hifumi: Well, when looking at Mukuro Ikusaba's history, a very important thing to keep in mind is that she is the twin sister, and for the longest time, closest compatriot and aide, to the Ultimate Despair, Junko Enoshima. Imagine how twisted you could become when having someone like THAT joined at the hip with you...Figuratively speaking, of course. The girls spent a few years together homeless on the streets, but then didn't see each other for the longest time until middle school, as Mukuro went off to join Fenrir.

Leona: And how did that work out for her?

Hifumi: Well, suffice to say that when Hope's Peak finally scouted her, that talent was rightfully earned. Being quite possibly the most powerful superhuman soldier in history, Ms Ikusaba had a completely spotless record when it came to battles. And when I say spotless, I MEAN SPOTLESS. According to her school profile, during her three years with Fenrir, she never once received a scratch or wound on the battlefield. In fact, this was a damning piece of evidence in the Final Trial of the First Killing Game to prove that she and her sister were not the same person.

Leona: Plus, as a result of her passion, her training and her skills, unlike our previous combatant, she was BORN a FIGHTER. She is naturally capable and powerful, and has a thorough understanding of all firearms and explosives, ranging from pistols, rifles, RPG's, machine guns, and even nuclear bombs, marking her territory as one of the most deadly fighters in our universe. She can use all of the following with deadly accuracy and aptitude. Even aside from that, she never goes anywhere without her trusty combat knife; a tool that allows her wrangle with any enemy and tear them to shreds! Like Kuripa's sword! But smaller...Actually, when you think about it, that's really what a sword is! Just a very big knife!

Hifumi: But a knife is equally as deadly, especially when in the hands of Mukuro Ikusaba. She's arguably as proficient, if not more, in hand-to-hand blade combat that Kuripa is.

Leona: And lastly, she's also a master in medicine, ammo and defense mechanisms. She even...Um...Wait, hang on a second...Am I reading this right!? She has BULLETPROOF PANTIES!?

Hifumi: Indeed! Her undergarments are made of sturdy enough fibers that bullets and blades can't scratch them! Yor Forger probably needs to take lessons.

Leona: How do you even...?

Hifumi: That's for me to NOT know and you to NEVER find out. But even in a hypothetical scenario where she DOESN'T have her weapons by her side, anything the Ultimate Soldier touches could become the exact tool she needs to assert her dominance. For example, in Danganronpa IF...

Leona: What's that?

Hifumi: Alternate timeline where she turned to the good side a lot earlier than she did in our universe, you don't need to worry too much about it.

Leona: Hold on. If it's an alternate timeline, are we really allowed to take it into account.

Hifumi: Technically...no? But the truth is we don't have much information of Ms Ikusaba's early capabilities within our own world. However, source materials have stated her power and capabilities are the same in both canons. Besides, Ms Ikusaba has displayed similar feats in the current timeline, so there's proof of that; so I think we can count it here.

Leona: Well I'm not gonna argue so long as it makes the fight better.

Hifumi: As I was saying, in Danganronpa IF, Mukuro is forced to fight against an army of Monokumas, and she defeats them armed with nothing but the pole of an IV as an improvised polearm. Not nearly as effective as a real one, but still deadly enough simply because SHE'S the one wielding it.

Leona: And that's barely even scratching the surface of her strength, speed and power. She's so incredibly combatively, she's wrangled and matched numerous other Ultimate Students or people of similar power and capability, including Sakura Ogami, Peko Pekoyama, The Madarai Brothers, Yukari Koime, and possibly even stronger opponents...Though her limit seems to come in the form of Hajime Hinata/Izuru Kamukura. But come on, what do you expect? That guy outmatches EVERYONE.

Hifumi: This is possible due to an innate ability Mukuro Ikusaba possesses called her "Battle Trance." While capable on her own without even having weapons, armor or anything else by her side, Ms Ikusaba can also enter this state eerily similar to that of Son Goku's Ultra Instinct state from Dragon Ball Super. When she's in this stance, she becomes one with the battlefield around her, and her perception of the flow of time nearly comes to a stop. It's impossible to catch Ms Ikusaba off-guard in this state and sneak attacks are completely impossible. Stated in her own words, it's like "every inch of her skin gets covered with eyes that analyze everything going on all around her."

Leona: That's...creepy...Cool but...creepy...

Hifumi: This is the former one half of the despair sisters we're talking about her. And she's the less crazy half. Ms Ikusaba's speed in the Battle Stance state becomes HYPERSONIC. She can run so fast that it appears she's teleporting, can effortlessly dodge military grade turrets while fighting a hundred Monokumas without so much as losing focus or batting an eye from her target, can easily defuse a nuclear bomb before it hits the ground, dodge a point-blank explosion, and can travel from Japan to Prague in only a couple of seconds!

Leona: Ok, that's all well and good, but that last one feels a little odd compared to the rest. 

Hifumi: Even more odd than disarming a mid-air nuclear bomb or dodging bullets?

Leona: The Matrix and Top Gun had desensitized me to that kind of stuff, and I kind of expect it from a super powerful soldier/spy. Running at the speed of The Flash or Sonic the Hedgehog seems a little...out of place is all.

Hifumi: Well, the canonicity of that one is questionable at best. Still though, it's undeniable that she's overpowered. In terms of power scaling, Mukuro Ikusaba and Sakura Ogami-

Leona: i.e. The woman who's widely considered to be the strongest human on earth, has won 400 martial art matches in a row and was easily able to knock out Genocide Jack who has her fair share of superhuman and ridonkulous feats, including slicing missiles apart mid-air.

Hifumi: -are almost dead even, with any discrepancies leaving Sakura ever so slightly stronger. However, that gap in power is so minimal, it might as well not exist. In fact, in several points of time, the two HAVE fought. Though these days it is mostly casual sparring practices, during the IF timeline, they did have a serious fight where Sakura tried to restrain Mukuro so the 78th Class could question her.

Leona: According to the information I have here, that fight lasted for around 10 minutes and was so intense that it caused the gym they fought in to quake with the pressure. Not only that, but Mukuro was handicapped in that fight. With Makoto Naegi having been rendered unconscious after being stabbed with the Spears of Gung-Hang on a second! Why didn't we mention the fact that Makoto survived this execution in our previous analysis!?

Hifumi: Well, we don't really NEED to. Makoto was left unconscious and bleeding profusely due to that execution. He only survived it because his Ultimate Luck prevented the spears from damaging any internal organs.

Leona: Fine, whatever, this is only semi-canon anyway. As I was saying, she had an unconscious Makoto dangling in her arms the entire time and Mukuro was still able to end the fight and escape by causing a quick distraction.

Hifumi: Ms Ikusaba also defeated Peko Pekoyama with her knife in a swordfight, survived a casual blow from Izuru Kamukura, who can casually destroy steel walls and sink 41 battleships by himself, and killed all 8 Madarai brothers with brute force alone, all of whom are separately strong enough to break down walls with their own raw strength.

Leona: And remember what we said earlier about Mukuro taking on 100 Monokuma's alone? Let's go back to that for a second, since that's one of her earliest, most impressive feats. 

Hifumi: It's important to keep in mind that taking out this version of Monokuma is a BIG DEAL. You've no doubt seen us fight Monokuma's and Kerokuma's and everything in between, but there is a big difference in power between the Monokuma sentries shown in Survivor and Ultra Despair Girls, and the Monokuma's from the main Killing Games, 1, 2 and V3.

Leona: Killing Game Monokuma is equally as capable of matching Sakura Ogami blow for blow. They're shown having a toe-to-toe battle, in which the bear is easily able to keep pace with her. In the case of Mukuro who had to fight hundreds of these things at once, while ALSO dodging machine gun fire, she took all of them out in a SINGLE HIT EACH, launching some of them into the air!

Hifumi: Monokuma's suspected weight, based on his size and make, is about 15kg. If we calculated it, the amount of energy you would need to use THAT much strength at THAT much speed would require an energy equivalent to between 30 to 90 kilotons of TNT.

Leona: And to top it all off, she's hella sturdy too! Monokuma claimed that Mukuro could have possibly survived The Ultimate Punishment; the death trap that killed her sister Junko, which involved feats such as being electrocuted with enough force to liquefy, being hit by speeding trucks while being burned alive, getting hit by countless baseballs at machine-gun rate of fire, pounded by a bulldozer, sent into space and forcefully brought down again, all before dying under a crusher.

Hifumi: See, the thing about that is that it's not consistent. Mukuro's power and speed are naturally always that above every other person around her, but in terms of defensive capabilities and survivability, it's not certain whether Monokuma's claim holds water. For example, Mukuro possesses enough vitality to survive Yukari Koime's knife straight to the heart long enough for her to get medical help and slip into hiding. However, the knife pierced her skin easily and rendered her innate abilities damaged. Same applies to when Junko caught her off-guard and killed her the first time around using the Spears of Gungnir.

Leona: Wait, hold on a second. What actually ARE these "Spears of Gungnir?"

Hifumi: Regrettably, being the sister and most trusted ally of the most evil woman in every universe doesn't render you safe from her antics. And it's because of Junko herself that Mukuro's weaknesses really start to come to the surface. Her biggest flaw is that despite her prowess, power and almost unrivalled danger, she's little more than an emotionally abused young lady, that has barely any autonomy of her own. In fact, based on our old information, due to Junko abusing her older twin sister both verbally and physically, it got to the point that she found pleasure whenever Junko insulted her, seeing it as her loving little sister acknowledging her presence.

Leona: Wow...That's a YIKES!

Hifumi: It's not only Ms Ikusaba's emotional stern nature and maturity that gets severely diminished by her sister. Her skills as a solider are also halted in their entirety by Enoshima playing on her emotions. It was in fact Junko who betrayed and killed Mukuro in the canon timeline with the Spears of Gungnir, a trap designed to use Mukuro's loyalty against her.

Leona: But...that's not how things are anymore, is it? She came back to life and...changed, right?

Hifumi: Well...yes...and also no. See, when the Future Foundation discovered these special machines that could revive people from the dead, they used it to resurrect those that had died in the First Killing Game, and give them a second chance at life; of which included myself, and also Ms Ikusaba.

Leona: But wasn't it established by this point that Mukuro was dangerous?

Hifumi: Yes, and naturally, everyone was very opposed to the idea of bringing her and her sister back to life...That is everyone except for the ever kind Makoto Naegi. He was the only one who saw more to Ikusaba than simply being a terrorist nutjob, and saw that there was still an emotionally damaged girl underneath that was repressed as a result of Junko's cruelty. He figured that because she had never had a chance to experience the feeling of Hope over her life, she didn't know how it felt, nor did she understand the true weight of her actions. 

Leona: So he figured that if he gave her a taste of that stuff, she could be reformed?

Hifumi: And lo and behold, he was right. Curious to see where things would go, Mukuro accepted the offer to reform, and her vision on life became clear. She saw the world's beauty and natural power, instead of the military power and despair-ridden view her sister had painted over her eyes. It took some time, but eventually, she became the greatest friend and classmate that we needed her to be...

Leona: It's amazing how that all worked out so well.

Hifumi: I agree. Though looking back, it most likely had to do with Ms Ikusaba's attachment TO Mr Naegi that served as the crux. She may be an unstoppable force in war, but a rather weak foundation in love. It was even stated in prior documents that Makoto's smile was enough to gift Ms Ikusaba interest in the world outside of her dedication to Junko. However, despite choosing to join the good side for the sake of her crush, not everything about her changed.

Leona: I think I see where this is going. Even though Mukuro's Despair focus disappeared, her need to be of use to others didn't. Though he was fighting for the complete opposite ideal, Makoto basically took Junko's place as that figurehead.

Hifumi: Mr Naegi obviously never abused Ms Ikusaba like Junko did. He'd rather jump into a ditch and let himself rot away and die before he ever tried to hurt her. But without someone to fall back on, Ms Ikusaba is an indifferent would-be killer who doesn't feel any sadistic pleasure when killing her victims in battle, and a socially awkward girl out of touch with her emotions that hide her uncertainty under a very well reserved personality. Which wouldn't be a problem if that didn't cause her endless emotional stress and repressed anxiety.

Leona: And WITH someone to fall back on, like Junko or Makoto, she's a spiritually broken, basically masochist of a girl that does whatever she's to do with no questions asked, be it aiding in a scheme that would cause the entire world to go bonkers with Despair, or saving the same world with the power of friendship, passion and Hope. Even after her switch to the light of Hope, just mentioning Junko's name or seeing her visage can cause Ms Ikusaba to enter a state of PTSD that she's unable to break out of without support.

Hifumi: These feelings of companionship, while helping to make Ms Ikusaba a more approachable and dependable person, GREATLY diminish her aptitude as a soldier. While still undeniably capable, Ms Ikusaba is more willing to take risks for the sake of others, some of which land her in a lot of trouble. 

Leona: For example, she turned her back on the Future Foundation to aid Makoto Naegi when he was forced on the run. She was willing to mentor and teach Maki Harukawa, despite barely knowing her. And as we said already, she almost sacrificed her life for Kuripa Kurafto, by taking a deadly knife for him straight to her heart. It was only because of her unrivalled vitality, as well as some mysterious outside help that she even survived. But these newfound feelings didn't make Mukuro weak. Instead, they gave her a NEW kind of strength. The kind to never give up, even when life puts you through the ringer over and over again, and to pursue what matters to you. Chasing a dream has never felt so important.

Hifumi: As an Ultimate Despair, Mukuru Ikusaba is a tool of destruction, mercilessly cutting down any foe that comes her way and putting everyone to shame. As an Ultimate Hope, she is an unlikely hero who struggles every day to protect what she loves and stand for what she believes in. Regardless of where she stands, or what timeline she follows, whether she lives or whether she dies, the wolf-shaped mark of the Ultimate Soldier will continue looming over us for now and forever.

Hifumi: Kunugigaoka Junior High School is a HELL ON EARTH for Class 3-E, the end class of the academy. It's infamously filled with rejects, losers, and people who aren't expected to amount to anything in society. As of such, the students in said class are berated, bullied, and belittled by EVERYONE.

Leona: With the tacit approval, and in fact MOTIVATION of GETTING RID of these kids. These students were brought together for the sole purpose of fulfilling Chairman Asano's educational value of his variation of the 20:20:60 worker ant ratio, a social science which states that 20% of people are exceptional, 20% of people are worthless, and the other 60% are ordinary-Oh god that's a lot of numbers...*gag* Ahem...Long story short, the class exists purely as a punishment for students who let their grades fall below a certain threshold, and the chairman goes out of his way to prevent ANY of these students from succeeding academically. What a jeeeerk!

Hifumi: And I thought HOPE'S PEAK was oppressive! But anyway, the lives of this classroom changed dramatically on the day something bewildering happened. The moon was DESTROYED, with only 30% of it's overall mass left drifting in space!

Leona: Not long after, Class E were paid a visit by a STRAAAAANGE creature: who claimed HE was the one who destroyed the moon, and would eventually destroy the world...if the class didn't stop him first!

Hifumi: And that was how the game first began! The class tried everything they could to murder the monster that would eventually become known as Korosensei. Aside from wanting to protect the earth they live on, many of these students all had their own unique motivations for killing him, though most of them mainly consisted of making money from a hit, restoring the hierarchy to normal, or sticking it to the society that made them out to be weak...However, ONE person in particular stood out among the rabble...

Leona: Kaede Kayano...Or more accurately, Akari Yukimura, the younger sister of the very reason why the yellow octopus bastard was even here in the first place!

Hifumi: Akari Yukimura was a child prodigy when it came to acting. Though it was a fairly lonely life, she was still glad to have the company of her older sister Aguri, Class 3-E's homeroom teacher. They had a rather pleasant life, except for one little thing...

Leona: Aguri was the fiancé of one Kotaro Yanagisawa, a complete and total douchebag human and a mad scientist, who made her work as his lab assistant. On one fateful day off of her acting career, little Akari came to visit her sister at the institute where she worked, when suddenly... KABOOM!

Hifumi: The building exploded! And when Akari finally got inside and found her sister, her dead body was lying at the foot of this mysterious and conniving looking monster, which then proceeded to take off while leaving a note behind, claiming he was the one who killed Agari.

Leona: As you might have already guessed, that monster, known at the time as "The Reaper" would eventually take the form of Korosensei himself. Fueled with a burning desire for revenge, Akari chased Korosensei to the school, dyed her hair green, took up a new name, and joined Class E as a transfer student to help them with their shared goal of killing Korosensei. She even went as far as to become protagonist Nagisa Shiota's "sidekick" of sorts as to not draw attention to herself.

Hifumi: Through her determination and drive for vengeance, Akari Yukimura, now Kaede Kayano, set about training to enact her revenge against the monster that took her sister from her. Like all the other students in the class, the government who put out the hit on Korosensei provided her with her own arsenal of weapons, including, but not limited to, M1911A1 Pistols, M4 Carbines, smoke bombs, poisons and explosives. Not to mention a special uniform made from a unique cloth, which allows her to easily camouflage, resist shocks and burns and hardens in response to strong physical trauma.

Leona: Like NANOMACHINES, SON!

Hifumi: Wrong series! But effectively, it means that so long as she has the special uniform on hand, she can't be wounded by knives, and she has the durability and force resistance of a solid wall.

Leona: Speaking of knives, it should be noted that combat knives appear to be the weapon which Kayano is most proficient in. And this is mainly because her small size makes it very easy for her to run circles around opponents with similarly high agility, stamina and precision, which includes Hinata Okano, a speedy and athletic gymnastic prodigy, and even the ever-powerful Korosensei. And given that Korosensei can reach speeds of Mach 20-

Hifumi: Which by the way, would allow him to completely run around all of planet Earth in approximately 3 hours and 12 minutes!

Leona: THAT'S not something to sneeze at!

Hifumi: Not only is she fast, agile and perceptive by nature, Ms Kayano is a master of several unique styles of fighting, like Judo, Sumo, Aikido and several others, all of which culminate into one to make her obscenely deadly. Her raw strength allows her to completely obliterate a shelf full of heavy trophies and take out a trained mercenary with a knee to the head.

Leona: But the deadliest skill in Akari's arsenal for a large portion of her series was the innate talent she was born with. A lot of the students of Class E were able to take their natural talents and apply them in their killing methodology, like how Chiba was able to become a really good sniper due to his fascination with angles and mathematics. But Kayano's special talent, as we already mentioned, is her ACTING. 

Hifumi: Among all his other insane powers, Korosensei has the ability to perceive one's true thoughts like he's reading their mind; an ability that has allowed him to constantly foil Class E's traps to kill him. However, Ms Kayano's innate ability to play a role and deceive any audience she comes across rendered the overpowered octopus's ability...COMPLETELY USELESS!

Leona: Kaede's ultimate goal was to lie in wait, observe Korosensei's movements and find a way to take him out for good, and initially, she had this tunnel-vision focused only on putting this murderous monster to rest...But the more time she spent with the rejected class, the more at home she started to feel. She gained many friends, close acquaintances and began to have more fun than she'd ever had during her lonely life as a prodigy, with just her sister as company. She even ended up falling in love with Nagisa, and saw a side of Korosensei that she thought was very respectable. However...it wasn't going to last forever...

Hifumi: Turns out the reason Korosensei was on the scene of Aguri Yukimura's murder is that he was captured and used as human test subject in an experiment of Yanisagawa's, her fiancé. The goal of Yanagisawa's experiments was to create anti-matter without massive energy requirements by generating it in a living body. When antimatter particles and regular matter particles come into contact with each other, they annihilate one another, leaving behind pure energy, which results in an explosion that NOTHING can survive. (As seen in DB's official episode Frieza Vs Megatron)

Leona: It's this exact science that triggered the REAL reason the moon blew up! Concerned with what would happen to the anti-matter cells if the living host were to age and die, Yanisagawa injected a mouse with the same cells as Korosensei, and sent it in a capsule to the moon to observe any changes. The result was catastrophic. As soon as the mouse died, the cells began to multiply and turn into matter. This mixed with the anti-matter of the moon and caused a giant explosion that almost destroyed the entire thing, leaving it as a permanent crescent.

Hifumi: Why are we bringing all this up you may ask? Well, the truth is Korosensei was injected with a special serum that changed his body to better house the antimatter inside him, which gave him his tentacles and his cartoonish yellow form. And as part of her plan to get revenge and kill him, Ms Kayano took this same serum and implanted herself with these SAME TENTACLES!

Leona: THIS is Kaede Kayano's DEADLIEST weapon! Pure antimatter and all the strengths that come with it reside on the tentacles in the back of her neck, and she can move and attack with them at above hypersonic speeds. In addition to this, the tentacles come with abilities like secreting a special mucus to counter their weakness to water, regeneration on a cellular level, the power to melt metal, and even set them on FIRE!

Hifumi: That last ability actually comes from the high temperature caused by the metabolic abnormality that happens to tentacle transplant recipients. Her body temperature is very high, and by channeling all that excess energy into her tentacles, she can light them on fire.

Leona: The tentacles only serve to boost Akari's power to an insane level, which makes her almost undefeatable coupled with the abilities she possesses as a regular human. She, as well as her classmates, have shown that they're able to tank explosions up to 2 tons of TNT, possibly several times that with all their special gear and training.

Hifumi: With the tentacles, we can scale Ms Kayano to another tentacle wielder, Itona Horibe, who was able to destroy tanks, jet fighters and demolish buildings all by himself. As a matter of fact, when Ms Kayano's true nature was revealed, Mr Horibe blatantly stated that "she's far stronger than I ever was." 

Leona: But it's not all sunshine and rainbows...Not that it really was ever...According to Korosensei, and this was also shown with Itona, if human flesh hosts the power of tentacle cells, they get tortured by a nightmarish rejection response from their body that, if not consistently cared for with the right treatments, will cause them to die from madness in up to 3 days! And how long did Kaede Kayano have these in for?

Hifumi: AROUND A WHOLE YEAR! The energy required to keep Mr Horibe in check for so long required energy of around 665,407.77 Megawatts, tantamount to the average energy of 3 thermal power plants! Yet Ms Kayano showed no signs of any pain, nor did she ever falter, despite constantly in a state of slowly dying for such a long time! 

Leona: Not just that, but the tentacles also took over Kayano's mind and body, since they're fueled by her lust for blood and desire to kill. In a suspiciously Doctor Octopus kind of way, when she began to have doubts about herself and her revenge plan, they did just that, and turned her into a bloodthirsty insane maniac of a girl. 

Hifumi: And as we've already mentioned before, using her tentacles, Ms Kayano was able to match Korosensei blow for blow, and damn near killed him! Korosensei, who by the time the class fought the Grim Reaper, another powerful assassin who shared a code name with the original Korosensei, was capable of dodging a laser that he didn't notice until it was fired at him, blocked point-blank beams of light by kicking up some dirt, and created a tornado powerful enough to part the clouds as wide as a mountain! Throughout their whole confrontation, Ms Kayano had him on the defensive, and completely overwhelmed him.

Leona: The downside was that while she was fighting him, the tentacles were on the cusp of killing Kaede herself. In order to rescue both Kaede AND Korosensei, those tenta-bitches HAD to go! Fortunately, Nagisa was able to save her...With the power of a true love's kiss! ...I-I'm not joking by the way, that's ACTUALLY what happened.

Hifumi: With the tentacles gone, the pain subsided and now able to learn the truth about her sister and her weird octopus lover, Kaede gave up her aspirations for revenge and officially turned to the side of good. She was able to live the life she wanted with her friends, her now possibly-more-than crush, and her beloved sensei...But remember what I just said about there being another Grim Reaper assassin? Yeah, so long as he was around, the peace wasn't gonna last.

Leona: By the way, if the feat of living a whole year in intense agony and surviving attacks from Korosensei was somehow not enough to prove Kaede's insurmountable level of stamina, she's also survived an uppercut from this Grim Reaper, who destroyed a room filled up with stone through a casual kick, and created a huge crater in the ground, both of which would have had a max energy output equal to at least 2.44 tons of TNT.

Hifumi: And this was AFTER the tentacles were gone, i.e. her greatest weapon. In order to protect her friends, her teacher and everyone she held dear, Ms Kayano sacrificed her life in the battle against the Reaper. 

Leona: From start to finish, Kaede Kayano and Korosensei were tied together by a strange tentacle of faith, and their story ended when Korosensei gave up both his previous life, as well as bringing back hers by regenerating her on a cellular level, allowing her to spend the rest of her days in peace. 

Hifumi: As a girl, Kaede Kayano was willing to sacrifice her life and her future if it meant destroying a monster from her past...But now, she stands for her own future...

Leona: Once she decides on something, she moves straight towards it. That's just how she is~

Hifumi: And with that, the combatants are set! It's time we end this debate once and for all!

LEONA: IT'S TIME FOR A DEEAAATH BAAATTLLLLLLEEE!

The scene opens in a second-floor Japanese apartment home. With a group of Branch 14 soldiers behind her. They surround the door and Mukuro makes a signal with her hands. The soldiers all nod and she kicks open the apartment door, weapons at the ready.

Mukuro: ...

Despite the heavy force, there is little sign of anybody home. However, Mukuro is still able to sense a presence.

Mukuro: Akari Yukimura AKA Kaede Kayano, correct? Former student of Kunugigaoka Junior High School? I'm Mukuro Ikusaba, Future Foundation 14th Division. Would you be so kind as to come out of hiding?

Kayano: What do the Future Foundation want with me?

The soldiers are alerted by the sound of a voice, yet can't see glean where it's coming from. Mukuro doesn't seem phased.

Mukuro: A few years ago, you were at the center of an incident involving the antimatter tentacles experiment. Our division was tasked to investigate.

Kayano: Those tentacles were removed a long time ago. You've wasted your time.

Mukuro: Perhaps...But...it's common fact that octopi can regenerate their limbs if they get cut off...Please, just come with us...

Kayano: ...!

Mukuro: ...!?

Kayano suddenly appears from behind a doorway and opens by throwing a grenade straight at the Future Foundation. Mukuro parries the grenade, but it explodes, blasting her accompanying soldiers back.

Kayano: Get out! Or it'll be more than jacket that gets a little dirty!

Kayano, though acting condescending, quickly becomes displeased as Mukuro pushes through the cloud of smoke, slipping off her charred jacket and unholstering an MP5-K from her back.

Mukuro: No need to worry...If this is coming to blows, I'll just sew myself a new one with your SKIN...!

Mukuro grabs her firearm and and opens fire upon Kayano. The ex-assassin dives through a doorway for cover. As Mukuro halts fire, she pokes back round again to shoot her with a pistol. Mukuro however, easily slides out of the way of her bullets. 

Mukuro: Hi...

Kayano: Go AWAY!

Mukuro: Tch!

*SHING!*

Kayano unholsters a combat knife from underneath her skirt and tries to stab Mukuro, but Mukuro pulls out one of her own and blocks the blade. Kayano tries to attack again, but Mukuro grabs her arm, swings her into the wall and kicks her in the chest, the force which is enough to break the wall itself down, bringing the fight into the apartments kitchen.

Kayano: Ngh! Gragh!

Mukuro: Hmph!

Kayano quickly jumps back onto her feet and spars with Mukuro, the two of them clashing blades. However, it isn't long before Mukuro's strength is able to overwhelm Kayano's, and she knocks the assassin off balance, flourishing her combat knife for a finishing blow.

Kayano: Eh!?

Mukuro: RYAGH!

*CLINK!*

Kayano: ...

Mukuro: ...

*CLINK!* *CLINK!* *CLINK!*

Mukuro tries to run her knife through Kayano, but it just bounces off her.

Mukuro: Huh...That...usually works-

Kayano: HIYAGH!

Mukuro: GUH!

Kayano flip kicks Mukuro backwards, then tears off her shirt to reveal her reinforced PE uniform underneath.

Mukuro: Ah...That explains a lot...You came PREPARED...!

Kayano: BUHAGH!

Even though her blade can't cut through her chest, Mukuro is still able to land a heavy hit with her fists, knocking Kayano back.

Mukuro: What's the matter? Feeling out of your element?

Kayano: You don't want this fight...!

Mukuro: I don't...But I DO want what it's going to bring out...!

Kayano whips out an M4 Carbine and hails bullets on the Ultimate Soldier. In a flash, Mukuro breaks off the door to the fridge and uses it as a makeshift shield to block the fire. As soon as Kayano has to pause to reload, she throws the door at the green-haired girl. Kayano avoids the door by flipping to the side.

Kayano: Huh!?

Mukuro: ...

*BOOOOM!*

However, just as she lands, Mukuro, without showing any expression or remorse or caring, suddenly pulls out an RPG, and aims it at her. Kayano rolls out of the way of the rocket as she fires, and braces for impact as the rocket explodes! The apartment is blown to smithereens and a large gaping hole is left in the side of the building. Kayano herself it flung back and smashes into the wall.

Kayano: HNNGH!

Mukuro: Too easy...

Kayano: UHUGH! OOF! AAAGGH!?

She doesn't stay down for long. She lunges straight at Mukuro by flying at her through the hole made with her body earlier. Mukuro reads this attack a mile away, parries Kayano's blade hand with her fist, then trips her over and throws her into the wall. Mukuro then grabs Kayano by the scruff of her clothes and throws her through the large window onto the roof of the building next door. Mukuro gets a run up and leaps out after her, rolling onto the roof.

Mukuro: Ah...!? Where did she...?

Kayano: ...!

Mukuro: !!?

Upon landing, Mukuro loses sight of Kayano, and she barely reacts in time as the assassin appears behind her. Having used her uniform to camouflage, Mukuro just barely catches her wrist as she thrusts at her with her knife. The speed is more than the soldier expected, and her face gets cut, but fortunately, not fatally run through.

Mukuro: Is this the extent of what you can do? Trickery won't work on me forever!

Kayano: BLUEAGH!

Yet again, Mukuro blocks Kayano's ensuing attack and tosses her backwards. Simultaneously, both girls pull out their rifles and fire on each other. A mad dance of bullets ensues, with the area around the rooftop being laid to waste. However, despite the extra protection of her uniform, Kayano takes more fire than Mukuro and her arms become gradually more grazed and tired. In the split second she drops her guard, Mukuro attacks.

Mukuro: Hmph...

Kayano: GRAGGH! AGH!

Mukuro rushes forward and knees Kayano in the jaw, then punches her in the stomach, though due to her uniform it doesn't have much effect other than knocking her back. She grabs the green-haired girl, throws her upwards and rams her fist straight into her spine, causing Kayano to scream out in pain. The blow is strong enough to send her rocketing up into the sky.

Kayano: I...told you...!

Mukuro: Hm?

Sensing something amiss, Mukuro glares up at her opponent.

Kayano: I warned you...Leave...Me...ALOOOOOOONNE!

*CRACK!*

Mukuro: Grrgh!?

Though she attempts to dodge, the speed of the next attack is lightning fast, and a large mark is left across the Ultimate Soldiers face! A pair of green tendrils burst out of the back of Kayano's neck, and smash straight through the roof of the building! The floor underneath Mukuro comes away, and she retains her focus bounding off the falling debris to safety. When she's safe enough, she looks back up at Kayano, who bares a maniacal, evil glare on her face.

Mukuro: There you are...

Kayano: I'll kill you...! YOU'RE DEAAD!

Before she even falls back to the ground, Kayano's tentacles once again lash towards Mukuro. The soldier girl is only barely able to dodge the incoming attack as the ground next to her is cut straight through like butter. Mukuro continues to dodge the whipping tentacles while she reloads her rifle!

Mukuro: Alright, play time is over...!

When Mukuro gets half a second to react, she aims her rifle at Kayano, who just now lands back on the ground, and fires an array of bullets at her. Kayano responds by spinning her tentacles around like a fan, blocking every single bullet and melting them into nothing! Mukuro is then unpleasantly surprised as the tentacles wrap around her rifle and disintegrate it.

Kayano: You BITCH!

Kayano's body language and screams are angry, despite the homicidal joy on her face! Mukuro is caught off-guard as the girl launches herself forward with her tentacles, and throws an uppercutting punch at the soldier! Mukuro catches Kayano's fist, but the force of the blow is so strong, she still feels the effects shoot through her body!

Mukuro: Gagh! D-Damn...!

Kayano: RRRRGGHGGERRRGGGHH! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGHH!

*CRACK!* *SMACK!* *CRACK!* *SMACK!* *CRACK!* *SMACK!* *CRACK!* *SMACK!* *CRACK!* *SMACK!* *CRACK!* *SMACK!* *CRACK!* *SMACK!* *CRACK!* *SMACK!* *CRACK!* *SMACK!* *CRACK!* *SMACK!* *CRACK!* *SMACK!*

Mukuro: Shit...! GAAGH!

Kayano's initial blow sends Mukuro sliding back across the ground, and in a split second, Kayano lunges forward again. Mukuro is too dazed and the girls movement is too fast for her to dodge, so she ends up bracing herself to receive several thousand blows from the whipping tentacles within the span of a few seconds! The speed, power and sheer force of the clash is so powerful, steam starts to emit from Kayano's tentacles and Mukuro's hands; the soldier biting her lip the whole time to retain her focus.

Mukuro: That's ENOUGH! 

Kayano: Gagh! RRGH!

Mukuro: AHAGH!

*CRASH!*

Mukuro finally gets a chance to deflect Kayano's tentacles and she drops to the ground, roundhouse kicking the girls legs to trip her up. This doesn't work. Kayano simply holds herself up with her tentacles and kicks Mukuro in the chest with both her legs, sending the soldier smashing through the wall onto the street outside. Mukuro pants, struggling to catch her breath. She lazily raises her head to see Kayano hoist herself up onto the remains of the building, glaring down at her, tentacles wiggling behind her neck. Mukuro stands up straight, rolls her shoulder and cracks her neck.

Mukuro: Looks like I made a mistake not going for the kill immediately.

Kayano: And I will make sure...you REGRET it...!

Mukuro: Well...if there's one thing I've learned in these last few years, it's that no matter how dire things get, it's never too late to see things to the end...

Kayano: Spare me your GROSS PLATITUDES!

*CRACK!* *SMAAASH!*

Kayano angrily whips at Mukuro full power, hoping to slice the soldier in two...But to her horror, Mukuro bends back and dodges this attack perfectly, despite it's speed. She becomes even more nervous as the soldier lifts her head. Her expression and disposition have both changed dramatically, and there is a menacing, red tint to her pale eyes.

Mukuro: So...let's finish this...!

Kayano: I despise you so much...! I'LL BURN YOU ALIIIIIIVE!

Kayano uses every limit of her power, and sets her tentacles ablaze!

*CRASH!* *SMASH!* *CRAASH!*

Mukuro: ...

Moving even faster than they were before, the tentacles cut through the area, leaving almost no room for survival! However, even at their unfathomably fast speed, Mukuro still jumps and slides out of the way, showing no emotion and not breaking focus.

Kayano: HAAAAAAAAAGH!

Mukuro: ...

Kayano: DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEE!

Mukuro: Tch...

However, it's apparent that Mukuro is still struggling to retain. Sweat rolls down her face as the flaming tentacles lash around her. She's only narrowly able to dodge them, suffering slight burns on the tip of her hair and the end of her elbow!

Mukuro: ...!

Kayano: NO YOU DON'T! HAAGGH!

Mukuro leaps up towards Kayano, but using her tentacles, Kayano leaps away onto the building on the other side of the street! She brings the tentacles down on Mukuro, who just weasels her way through them as the ground beneath her craters open! Kayano whips at her again, sending the rubble of the building flying into the air, which the transcended soldier uses as platforms to get in closer!

Kayano: UUUUUUGH! GO TO HELL ALREADY!

*CRASH!* *CRASH!* *SMASH!* *BOOM!* *BOOM!*

As Mukuro gets in closer to deliver what one could assume to be the final blow, Kayano's tentacles kick into overdrive and whip around the entire area! The rubble Mukuro rides on is destroyed one by one, and all the buildings within several miles start to crumble to dust, save for the one Kayano is using as a platform! When she runs out of footing, Mukuro launches forward, pulling out her RPG launcher again!

Mukuro: ...

Kayano: DIE! DIE! DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEE!

Mukuro: ...!

Kayano: AAH-!?

Mukuro: So long...!

*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMM!*

Kayano thrusts her tentacles out once more, hoping to grab Mukuro mid-air and end the fight there, but Mukuro reacts faster than anticipated. Within a single moment, she grabs the tentacles and uses them to hoist herself forward, grabbing her RPG launcher, and aiming it point-blank at Kayano's face! She pulls the trigger, and a huge explosion engulfs her.

Mukuro: Hmph...H-Huh...!?

Kayano: Kegggh...

However, Mukuro is horrified to see that in the nanosecond before the rocket could hit her, Kayano uses her tentacles as a barrier to block the explosion. The tentacles come away to show her gritting her teeth with a face of violence and death.

Mukuro: No...!

Kayano: DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEE!

Mukuro: HURUGH!

Mukuro lands on the roof of the building, which is now crumbling to pieces. In light of her false victory, she drops her guard, and just before she can reenter her battle stance, Kayano thrusts the tentacles forward, plunges them straight into the soldiers chest and completely rips out her heart, crushing it between them!

Mukuro: Aah...Aah...ah...

Kayano: Hah....Haah...Huh?

Mukuro: Ah...Ngh...

Mukuro slowly trudges forward, sliding along Kayano's tentacles which are still embedded through her chest, and approaches the green-haired assassin. She reaches up and gently strokes her face, which has calmed down significantly.

Kayano: You...

Mukuro: Nrrgh!

Kayano: AAGH!

With Kayano's guard down, Mukuro reaches behind her head and pulls out the tentacles from her neck. They retract into a much smaller size, pulling back through her chest, and tightly into Mukuro's hands before turning into nothing. Mukuro chuckles.

Mukuro: ...you're...welcome...

She then collapses to the ground, dead. Kayano hurries over to her, takes her head in her hands, and rests her forehead against hers, crying.

Kayano: I'm...I'm sorry...! I'm...sorry...

Leona: Oh come on! She JUST came back to life! Ugh...She's not coming back from THAT one, is she?

Hifumi: Surviving being stabbed in the heart is one thing...Surviving your heart being ripped out and crushed...Yeah, no...She's not getting out of THAT one safe and sound...

Leona: Don't worry though! This is a simulation! They're all fine, really! But uh...onto more important matters-WHAT HAPPENED!? Mukuro has god levels of attack power and mobility! How did she lose!?

Hifumi: Because ironically enough, Kayano had everything she needed in order to put the Wolf of Fenrir down. But let it be known that for at least the first half of any confrontation, Ms Ikusaba would have had the upper hand.

Leona: First and foremost, at their base levels of power without the use of any of their innate special abilities, Mukuro's sheer power and ability blew Kayano out of the water. Many of the Future Foundation's strongest fighters, like Sakura, Peko, Nekomaru or Akane; Mukuro could either overpower easily, or at least fight on an equal level with.

Hifumi: Ms Ikusaba also had far more combat training than her opponent. Kayano was no slouch, but the Ultimate Soldier gained that title for a reason, having been into military tactics and fighting in wars since she was only a child, and never ever gaining a scratch on her body in all that time.

Leona: There is actually another advantage that Mukuro possessed as well for this fight: No matter what, her respective martial arts prowess would have been too much for Kayano to deal with, especially when compared to her own skillset.

Hifumi: With her own martial arts prowess, Kayano is by no means weak. The fact that she was able to use her skills to take down that armed soldier is proof of that. However, part of why she was able to do that is because she was trained to as an ASSASSIN. Assassins by nature are trained to go for the kill immediately, and physical confrontations aren't typically their strong suit. Ms Ikusaba on the other hand, is a SOLDIER, and she has spent most of her life training in hand-to-hand combat, self-defensive and brutal killing, and she's much more physically fit and strong.

Leona: In fact, in Danganronpa Survivor, Maki Harukawa, who is an assassin herself that would have had similar training to Kayano, even admits this. And the two even dueled one on one shortly after Maki joined the Foundation, and this was after she defeated both Peko and Akane. You know, it really feels like Mukuro SHOULD have won this. 

Hifumi: Be that as it may, Kayano had just the right defensive capabilities that would allow her to eventually wear Ms Ikusaba down.

Leona: Well, for one thing, she's a fair bit faster. Mukuro could easily match Korosensei's Mach 20 speed, possibly higher with the Battle Trance, but the truth is, though Assassination Classroom states that Korosensei can reach speeds of Mach 20, he would have to be moving and reacting faster in order to achieve that laser feat. 

Hifumi: And if Kayano can keep up with him and put him on the defensive, it means she should realistically be able to achieve similar levels of speed, which would make her several times faster than Ms Ikusaba's max speed. Even with that in mind, the special cloth of Kayano's uniform made her resistant to attacks from blades, bullets and tasers...Which...is effectively most of Ms Ikusaba's arsenal.

Leona: What about the RPG then?

Hifumi: I'm sure that could have done some damage, but again, speed is a key factor there. If Korosensei can effortlessly catch grenades and RPG's, who's to say Kayano can't do the same thing?

Leona: So basically, Mukuro's real only option in the end was to fight with her bare fists. Which, let's be real, are a deadly weapon in their own right, but still, it wouldn't have been enough.

Hifumi: Not only is the uniform also shock-resistant and hardens when faced with physical blows, Ms Ikusaba really had no way to get around the tentacles. Even if she was somehow able to rip them out, they can just regenerate again. There was also no chance of tiring Kayano out to gain an opening due to her immense stamina. Plus, even if Kayano didn't have her reinforced uniform, the tentacles can melt metal, which is ANOTHER way to counter Ms Ikusaba's vast arsenal.

Leona: And in comparison to their overall defensive capabilities, Mukuro's defensive prowess just does not compare. Sure she can withstand explosions or attacks on an even more immense level, but she is still easily hurt by things like knives and bullets when they actually DO hit her. 

Hifumi: The last thing to consider is power. As we mentioned, Ms Ikusaba was more than a match for Kayano in their base levels; in fact, she would have been quite a challenge, possibly as dangerous as opponents like the Grim Reaper. 

Leona: As we said before, Mukuro's feat of fighting against the Killing Game Monokuma army, and the fact that she was able to easily dismantle them with her makeshift weapon, proves her strength is equivalent to 30 to 90 kilotons of TNT. For reference, that's between 2 to 6 times the power of the atomic bomb, like the one dropped on Hiroshima during WW2. 

Hifumi: In contrast however, Korosensei's feat of parting the clouds on the scale of a mountain would require a force of about 3 MEGATONS of TNT, which is about 30 TIMES the Ultimate Soldier's feat. Of course, it's not DEFINITIVE strength, especially since power levels and feats of strength in both Danganronpa and Assassination Classroom aren't exactly grounded in human logic, despite the fairly standard setting of both series. However, Kayano's feats of fighting stronger opponents in her universe than the likes Ms Ikusaba fought in hers proves that Kayano's maximum strength just outclasses hers. Though it's a hard pill to swallow, in the end, Kaede Kayano was just the perfect opponent to take down the infamous Ultimate Soldier.

Leona: She outmatched her in speed, power, durability and stamina, and had just the perfect tools to kick Mukuro Ikusaba in the...Fen-REAR...!

THE WINNER IS KAEDE KAYANO!

Next time:

[littlemourningstarr]

Death of Divinity

In the depths below his palace, Cazador is waiting- Cazador and his rite. Sekh knows they have to face him, for Astarion to be free. What he doesn't know is what Astarion's intentions are for the ritual, and if he can pick up the pieces after.

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Transmasc tav

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Transmasc tav, trauma, hurt/comfort, mentions/implications of past SA, public sex, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, fluff

Sekh felt frozen in place, taking in the sheer marvel of the palace around him. To say it was grand was an understatement. He had never once set foot in a high ranking drow household- but he had imagined them to be something similar. Imposing and rich.

Astarion lived like this?

Next to him, the vampire was quiet. It was unnerving, to have the palace door open for them, welcome them. The moment it had, his demeanor had changed. Sekh could feel his nervousness- simply radiating off him, but through small pulses on his hand, from their rings.

“Is it always this quiet?” Sekh asked, as Astarion brushed past him, leading further into the entrance foyer.

“No,” Astarion admitted, “at least- not at night. During the day, this isn’t that strange. But it’s still… quieter than expected.” Still, the silence was so thick it was cloying, heavy, weighing down on Sekh like corpse weight.

They paused in front of a large door, Astarion frowning deeply. It pulsed with a swarming, red magic- the bastardization of the weave so strong it was physically visible.

“Two hundred years, and I’ve never seen the ballroom door locked.” Sekh took his place next to Astarion, Karlach and Shadowheart both a step back, on high alert. No one felt comfortable walking into a vampire lord’s home, uninvited.

Or even invited.

Sekh touched the door. The magic didn’t hurt, it simply parted to allow his fingers to touch the cold metal and wood, intricately carved into a swirling swarm of rats.

A bitter bile rose in Sekh’s throat. Was it a sick joke to Cazador, to flaunt the only pathetic meal he’d ever give Astarion? Did he take a sick pleasure in forcing the symbolism down Astarion’s throat?

There was writing, etched into the door. Sekh couldn’t read it- but he had never been well learned in less common languages. His fingers traced the carvings, before pausing on an indent- the only spot possibly fit for a key.

“There’s writing like this all over the palace,” Astarion said, his voice like a ghostly whisper. “Some old, dead language of Cazador’s. We were strictly forbidden from learning it.” Sekh glanced over his shoulder, but a shrug of Karlach’s shoulders and a shake of Shadowheart’s head told him they didn’t recognize it, either.

He pulled his hand back, just as footsteps were heard, along the old, faded carpet. Sekh turned quickly, left hand coiling, Syl’s shadows sparking along his fingers- his right moving for his sword, freshly fixed and back at his side as of that morning, thanks to Dammon.

It was only a human man, who came into view. He looked surprised to see anyone. “More guests for the Master’s ceremony?” he mused, more to himself than to anyone. “I’m afraid you’re too late-”

His words cut off as his eyes fell on Astarion.

“Master Astarion?”

Sekh didn’t like hearing the title. It was a joke, in this palace. Astarion had never been master over anything while here- not even his own body and mind.

“You cannot be here, you’re supposed to be below, with the Master!”

Astarion huffed, lifting his chin, faking a regality that Sekh thought looked painful, on him. “Well, obviously I’m on my way down now. So just unlock the door, and I’ll be on my way.”

“No one can unlock the door- it was the Master’s orders. He gave the key to Godey.”

Astarion’s eye twitched. Sekh didn’t think the man meant to, but he bared his fangs at the name. “And where is the sadistic bag of bones?”

But this human was ignoring Astarion’s question, his eyes going glossy, mouth twisting in a pleased smile. “Oh, the Master will be so angry with you. He will do such terrible things to you.”

Sekh moved before the man could say another word, could let out the giggle quite obviously building in his throat. He grabbed him by the collar, shoving him back against the ballroom door. The action was so quick, so forceful, that the man’s head snapped back, cracked against the door itself.

“If you don’t want me to split you open from throat to cock you’ll answer Astarion’s question.” He leaned in so close he could smell the man’s sweat, some sort of cologne dabbed behind his ears. He swore he could smell a sudden spike of fear. When the man hesitated to speak, Sekh made a fist, slammed it into the door, dangerously close to his head. He ignored that it made his knuckles ache, that the etchings tore open his skin.

The scent of blood seemed to bring the man back to his senses.

“The-The Kennels,” he managed, his voice cracking at the end. Sekh smiled, let go of his collar and stepped back. The man’s legs gave, and he slid down to the floor, looking up at Sekh like he was an unknown, a shadow that had crept to life form the corners of the room.

“Starshine?” Sekh asked, glancing over at Astarion, who had been watching. “Do you need anything else?”

“No. No that is… enough.” The vampire swallowed thickly, and Sekh held his injured hand out to him, offering to take his hand in his own. Instead Astarion took it, lifted it to his mouth and dragged his tongue over the torn skin, lapped at the speckles of blood that had welled to the surface. Even just a taste had light flickering to his eyes.

“Then lead the way.” Astarion moved past Sekh, heading for a large curtained doorway. Karlach and Shadowheart flanked them, Karlach musing, “You really can be terrifying, can’t you, Sekh?”

Sekh didn’t respond. For Astarion, he’d be a devil himself, he’d be the embodiment of every shadow within this city. He’d be death incarnate, if his lover needed it of him.

They descended a long flight of stairs, which curved into a lower level of the palace. The moment they hit the floor, the entire party recoiled, the air reeking of death magic. A chill crept along Sekh’s spine, the necrotic magic within him stirring in recognition, trying to claw its way out from his skin.

“Best avoid that,” Karlach, nodding to a door, off to their left. The magic was seeping from under it. Astarion stared at the door, his cheeks seeming to lose any color they may have had.

“I used to… entertain our guests there,” he offered, before he jerked his head, looking away. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Cazador kept nothing but us and whoever we brought back for his entertainment in there.” He swallowed thickly, and Sekh could see the memories flitting behind the man’s eyes.

Still, Astarion turned in the opposite direction, moving away from the door. There was no choice but to follow. There was a woman down there, moving about in twitchy motions, mumbling to herself about everything needing to be perfect, perfect, perfect.

She didn’t even spare them a glance. Sekh let her be.

Astarion paused in front of a wall, and in a dramatic yet sardonic voice, announced, “Behold! Cazador’s cheapest trick- an illusionary wall.” The wall shimmered, before showing its true nature- a door, set with heavy locks- none of which were certainly fastened.

The drow moved up to Astarion, placed a hand on the small of his back. “Alright?” he asked, knowing the answer was no, but that Astarion would push through it. The vampire only gave a nod, an obvious lie- and Sekh had no choice but to accept it. He knew Astarion wasn’t going to be okay, until this nightmare was over.

All he could do was catch the pieces, as they flaked off him, and hope he knew how to settle them back into place, once this was over.

Sekh reached for the door, pulling it open. Its hinges screeched, made him grind his teeth. Astarion walked in quickly, announcing as he did so, “We know you’re there Godey- don’t bother skulking about in the shadows.”

Sekh moved quickly to flank him, followed by Karlach and Shadowheart- pausing when his eyes first took in Godey.

What was once a man- possibly- was nothing but bones, encased in old armor. He moved with jerking, twitching motions- the smell of necromancy thick, wafting off him in nauseating waves. Whatever he was, it was a sheer abomination.

“You always were sharp, little one.” The skeleton moved right for Astarion, reached up to drag his finger bones along his cheek. Astarion’s face twisted into alarm, as he allowed the touch. “Sharp enough to cut yourself.”

There was a bastardization of intimacy, to this thing’s voice. A strange desire, lacing the way he spoke to Astarion.

Astarion pushed the hand away, after a moment, grinding his teeth. “It’s taking everything I have not to grind your rotten carcass into dust.”

The anger spiked, stung Sekh’s hand. The rings seemed lively in a way they hadn’t been, suddenly. As if they were pulling on he and Astarion’s bond stronger than ever, wanting Sekh to feel everything that coursed through his vampire’s heart.

The thing laughed- it dared to laugh! “Oh don’t be mad at Godey child. I only did my job. I only kept you in line.”

If Godey’s skull could smile, it would be. The sheer joy at the idea of keeping Astarion in line was thick in his voice.

“You tortured us,” Astarion said, voice thick, pulling from his chest, nearly catching in his throat, “for days at a time.”

Sekh felt a twin burn and chill, in his body. The heat of shadows, to the left, the child of death, to the right. If Astarion so much as looked at him with permission, he would tear each bone from this skeleton, grind each one to dust individually, and let the bastard’s screams serenade the halls. But he couldn’t act, despite the sheer desire to, without Astarion’s blessing.

It wasn’t his place to determine a punishment here. It was Astarion’s.

“And oh, how you sang so sweetly for me.” If bones could shudder, Godey would have. “None of the others screamed like you did, little one. None of them broke as perfectly as you. But-” the skeleton paused, glanced past Astarion, empty eye holes quite obviously taking in Sekh, Karlach, and Shadowheart. “You’re home now. And you’re brought me a little treat.”

Faster than Sekh thought possible, Godey moved, skeletal fingers gripping Sekh’s cheeks, pinching and forcing his head up, as the creature examined him.

“Naughty little one, breaking the Master’s rules.” Sekh knew he was studying the healing marks, on his neck- the now speckling of tiny scars that melted in with his freckles. “Since the Master needs you and I cannot have you sing for me now, I’ll just make this one learn our favorite songs.”

He squeezed tighter, and Sekh reached up, left hand grabbing the bones of Godey’s wrists. He squeezed, shadows escaping him, twining up along Godey’s arm, as the shadows on his face danced wildly, began to creep down his neck, along the curve of his shoulder.

“Take your hand off me,” Sekh said, voice a rumble. Godey released him, stumbled back as he ripped his wrist from Sekh’s hold, the shadows dissipating.

“Not very nice, not very nice at all.” Godey turned his head to look at Astarion, and Sekh caught a smile on his vampling’s face.

It made him bristle with pride.

“Why are you here then, if not to see Godey?”

Astarion inhaled slowly. “We’re here to see the Master.” The word put a bad taste in Sekh’s mouth- more so to hear Astarion speak it. “But the ballroom door is locked. Give us the key.” He flashed a toothy, playful smile.

Godey laughed. It was a death rattle, the wisps of what should have been a last breath, as life left a body. “You’re too late! The door is locked on the Master’s orders.”

“He cannot complete his ritual without me,” Astarion noted, “so I’ll ask again, nicely- give us the key.”

Still, Godey held firm. Astarion’s eyes flicked to Sekh, and it was enough. Sekh moved to the skeleton, shoving his left hand out and splaying it on his arm, sending a blast of shadows into him. Godey was thrown across the room, cracking against the wall in sharp metal tangs and the brittle rupture of bone. As he fell Karlach moved, placing her foot firmly on his chest, keeping him in place.

Sekh glanced over at Astarion. “Astarion?”

The vampire walked over slowly to the struggling creature. Whatever undead strength Godey had, it was no match for Karlach’s sheer might.

Astarion crouched down, reached for Godey’s chipped chin, forced him to turn and look at him. “I want to be the last thing you see,” Astarion growled, “and remember that I could have been nice.”

His eyes glanced at Karlach, before turning back to Godey. And without hesitation, the tiefling lifted her foot and brought it down with all her weight behind it, denting into the old, thin armor, shattering ribs. Godey shrieked, and Astarion let go of his chin, pulled his hand back as Karlach lifted her foot again-

This time bringing it down on his skull, the bone splintering upon impact. Within an instant Godey was nothing but a limp pile of weathered, brittle bones.

And the room was deathly silent again.

Astarion reached into his dented armor, poking around broken bone, before producing a ring.

“The Szarr crest,” he said, a look of disgust on his face. “Cazador’s key.” He stood up, walked to Sekh, and pressed it into his hand. “I don’t want it,” he whispered, and Sekh nodded, sliding it onto his middle finger, opposite hand of the ring he shared with Astarion. He’d hold the key as long as Astarion needed.

“That still leaves the dead language,” Shadowheart pointed out. “We can’t read it.”

“We were forbidden to learn it, but it wasn’t a rule,” Astarion pondered. “One of the other spawn may have been a bit naughty. We can check the dormitory.” He moved towards the door, seeming eager to leave the Kennels behind.

Sekh didn’t blame him.

They exited, and Sekh pulled the heavy door shut, hoping he would never have to open it again.

The dormitories were no more than a single room, six beds crammed within it, and a small room offset to the side for bathing. Sekh wondered if any of the spawn had seen privacy for a single moment after coming under Cazador’s command.

He doubted it.

They were quick to poke around, searching under pillows, blankets, beds- within chests and the two wardrobes. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Astarion sat on the edge of one of the beds, frowning. Thinking. He drummed his fingers on his thigh, as Karlach searched the bathing room for a second time. “There’s another room,” he admitted, “for Cazador’s favored spawn. He liked to induce some competition among us. Seemed to benefit him if we all had a touch of hate for each other.”

Sekh could see that Cazador had succeeded in that.

“It was almost always Leon’s room, since he arrived. But I guess if anyone were to be poking about under Cazador’s nose, it would have been him- or Dalyria.” He stood up, motioning for the group to follow. They entered the only other room in the dormitory hallway. The room was larger than the entire dormitory itself- boasted a small sitting area and two well kept beds.

Sekh began pawing through the books arranged on a shelf, but none of them seemed of use. He flipped through them to ensure he wasn’t missing something hidden in plain sight- but they were exactly as they appeared.

He turned, glancing past Karlach and Shadowheart as they searched- saw Astarion was standing by one of the beds, looking at it uncomfortably. He walked over, laid a hand on the vampire’s shoulder gently, glancing at the bed himself.

There was a well loved teddy bear, sitting by the pillow.

“He could have hidden it among his daughter’s things,” Astarion mused, his eyes looking sad. “Cazador left her alone- at least, he seemed to. Aside of what I overheard…” He swallowed. “I don’t know where she could be.”

Sekh frowned. They hadn’t seen a single sign of the child, since entering the palace. Which meant either she was outside its walls, was down below as a part of the ritual-

Or was already a casualty.

Astarion took a breath, steeling himself- but Sekh gently pushed him a step back. “I’ll look,” he said, “go make sure Karlach and Shadowheart aren’t missing anything.” Astarion held his gaze silently for a moment, before he nodded, his thanks silent but unneeded. He left Sekh, who reached out for the teddy bear, picked it up, giving it a few squeezes to ensure nothing was stuffed within.

He checked under the pillow, pulled back the blankets, even the sheets. Nothing. What he did note was that the bed was as chilled as the air in the room.

There hadn’t been a body within it for hours, at least. If not longer.

He got on his knees, checked beneath- found a few discarded books meant for a small child, but nothing more. They would have been for a child younger than Leon’s daughter was.

She had probably never gotten rid of them- either by her own choice, or Leon’s. After all, it wasn’t as if he had the freedom to simply go procure her the things a growing child would need.

He moved to the chest at the foot of her bed, but it was simply neatly folded clothing, an extra sheet. Nothing.

“We could bust the door down,” Karlach offered, as they all grouped back together, empty handed. “Magic be damned.”

“We don’t know what that would trigger,” Sekh pointed out, “and that magic was… something I’ve never felt. It might even withstand you.” She smiled at him, as Shadowheart folded her arms.

“That room at the base of the stairs- we haven’t checked there. At this point I think we have to- necrotic magic be damned.”

She was right, Sekh knew. But seeing Astarion’s eyes flit to a buried panic over the thought of being back in that room-

He couldn’t do that to him.

“I’ll do it,” he said, “you three go back to the door, try to find any way we might be able to break it down if needed.”

“That magic is going to drain you,” Shadowheart pointed out, frowning deeply. “If I stay, I might be able to shield you. At least, slightly.”

The drow shook his head. “It’s more important you stay with Karlach and Astarion, in case of trouble. I’ll be alright- necrotic magic doesn’t hit me as hard as it does most.” He lifted his hand, flexed his fingers, showing off the translucent green tendrils that curled around his fingers, as he called at the chill along his spine- the magic in his veins. He wasn’t immune to it, but he would last longer than the rest of them.

Without waiting for further commentary, Sekh headed for the exit, making his way back to the stairwell. He paused at the door, as Karlach and Shadowheart moved up the stairs- knowing better than to try to convince him to change his mind.

He appreciated it.

But Astarion paused next to him, looking at the door. “It should be me,” he said, straightening his shoulders. Sekh reached up, dragged his knuckles along the vampire’s cheek- watched the fake bravado instantly deflate.

“No, it doesn’t need to be. You’re not alone in this, Astarion.”

The elf turned to face Sekh fully, grabbed the hand that had touched him, eyeing the signet ring Sekh now wore.

“I’m not giving it back to you,” Sekh said, “because a little magic and a room isn’t going to eat me alive. Go upstairs, make sure if Karlach decides to take her axe to the door it won’t implode, and I’ll be there shortly.” Astarion glanced back at the door, and Sekh reached for him, got his hands on his waist, held gently as he leaned in, pressed a kiss to his temple. “Remember what I told you last night?”

The vampire closed his eyes, gave a single, small nod. Astarion hadn’t repeated the words to Sekh- but Sekh hadn’t confessed just to be loved back. He’d meant it.

He’d meant it for far longer than he’d ever thought possible.

“I’m going to poke about and I’m going to find a way into that ballroom. Then I’m going to come upstairs, and we’re going to face Cazador together. This is going to end today, and I swear, you won’t be without me for a single moment of it.” He pressed his forehead to Astarion’s temple, closed his own eyes. “I love you, and I will protect you with my very soul. You’re not alone anymore, Starshine.”

Astarion swallowed thickly, but before he could speak, Sekh pulled back, nodded towards the stairs behind him, whispered, go. The vampire hesitated for a moment, before he steeled himself, turned and hurried up the stairs to catch up with Karlach and Shadowheart.

Sekh took a deep breath, then moved for the door, opening it and stepping into the room. The air was heavy, made him feel as if boulders were strapped to his back, shackles to his ankles. But he could manage, which is what mattered.

The room was extravagant, but otherwise itself ordinary. A large bed took center stage, and Sekh wanted to bare his teeth at it like an animal. Tear into it for the horrid memories it held for Astarion- and he was sure, even the other spawn.

What was far more intriguing than the room itself was the girl, collapsed just past the door itself. Sekh could feel the magic radiating from her- the source of the necrotic weave.

He walked to her, crouched down and touched her neck. Her skin was long cooled, her pulse not even a memory. Dead.

She could have been the right age to be Leon’s daughter, if Sekh had to guess. He had no idea what the girl looked like, and didn’t have the time to search her for anything personal that might identify her.

She would have to remain nameless, for now.

He stood up, head spinning a little, chest tight. He moved away from her quickly, prying open a wardrobe, a chest, sifting through fine looking clothes that seemed more costume than attire. Pretty things to doll the spawn up in.

He moved to the other end of the room, pulled open drawers on an elaborate dresser. Tucked within was a hand written journal. Sekh flipped it open, but noted it seemed less personal and more clinical. As if someone had been categorizing their vampirism into symptomatic lists- studying it.

He set it down, turned away, opened another small armoire. He pushed at the top shelf, pushing aside a box that sounded as if it had jewelry in it, when his hand touched the spine of a book. He pulled it out, the cover so well worn the title was barely legible.

He flipped it open, and felt his pulse pick up. The words resembled the writing on the door. Not wanting to hesitate, he clamped the book shut and hurried from the room, sucking in a deep, aching breath when he was away from the magic. His head spun as he hurried up the stairs, but he didn’t have time to allow himself more than that one breath.

At the door to the ballroom, he caught Karlach kicking it angrily, as Shadowheart was studying the words. Astarion was watching Karlach, but not stopping her. So much for ensuring she didn’t accidentally blow them all heavens high.

“I found this,” Sekh said, hurrying over, holding out the book. Shadowheart took it, examining the words on the first page and those on the door.

“It’s got to be the same language,” she said, “just- give me a moment, let me get my bearings.” Sekh nodded. Of the four of them, Shadowheart was the most equipped to try to learn the language on the fly.

It took a few minutes, but she was able to piece together what the door said- thanks to scribbled notes, along the side of the pages. She spoke the words aloud, as Sekh pressed the signet ring on his finger into the slot- and with a ground trembling creak, the ballroom doors slowly swung open.

The ballroom inside was deathly silent. Carefully they stepped in, each step on the floor seeming to ring louder than temple bells. “Over here,” Astarion said, cringing at the way his voice broke the silence. “Cazador’s study is this way- we were strictly forbidden from entering, so there may…be…”

The words trailed off as they crossed the threshold, noting the large, antique elevator set off in an enclave, before the proper opening of Cazador’s study.

Karlach moved first, walking right onto the old metal, giving it a stomp and determining it was sound.

“What in the hells is this?” Astarion muttered, stepping on himself. There were scuff marks all along the metal- it had quite obviously been used well, over the years. “I never… we weren’t allowed in here… I didn’t know.”

Karlach placed a hand on his shoulder, calming him, as Sekh and Shadowheart stepped on. It seemed they were simply going to have to see where it took them.

*

Down below the palace, the crypt that greeted them was far grander than Sekh could have imagined. Dalyria calling it a chapel felt like a crime against its creation.

Astarion had gone deathly silent, eyes large, taking in every detail he could. To think this had been beneath him for two centuries-

Sekh could barely fathom the shock.

The golden bracketed doors shimmered with magic- similar to that of the ballroom door. On a whim, Sekh pressed the signet ring into a small slot of one, and it opened on old, worn hinges.

Beyond the doors was a private room- small, smaller than the favored spawn bedroom they had found. It boasted a bed, a desk, and a small raised dias, scattered with papers-

And an old, weathered skull. Sekh walked over to it, touched his fingers to the crown of its head- and felt a spike, inside his consciousness. He grimaced, and whatever had broken into him spread like a wildfire, throughout the group- using the tadpoles as conduits.

There was a voice, in Sekh’s head- one he didn’t know. The air about it was royal, well spoken and firm. He held his head, cracked open an eye and glanced at Astarion-

But the man was watching the skull intently, as if everyone else in the room had disappeared. As the voice spoke of rules, of consequences- Sekh could see a picture, being painted in his head. Memories.

A man, throat torn open, and the taste of metal on his tongue. Another man Sekh didn’t know stared with intent red eyes- the anger palatable- but the stains on his cheeks, they spoke of sadness.

The same man, impaled, down in these crypts. His blood running fresh along a golden spike, as pale, delicate fingers trailed through it, bringing them to lips that were a stranger’s and Sekh’s, all at once. There was a joy, building in his chest, as the blood sank into his tongue- a word, repeating, over and over and over.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

And then a sudden burning sensation, in his body, as if he could feel his skin being split, his blood flowing from his organs, every vein. And those same red eyes from before, looking elated, as Sekh could feel the life slipping through his very fingers.

He stumbled back a step, when the presence suddenly dissipated. As it did so, the skull’s jaw relaxed, a yellowed scroll slipping from its hold. Astarion was there, lifting it, unrolling it-

And anger, filling his face. “Even his precious rules,” he muttered, “he stole them.” Astarion turned to the party. “That was Cazador, you saw. He hasn’t changed since before even my creation.”

Sekh reached for the skull, and Astarion let it go. Atop the list of rules- rules that sounded far too similar to what Astarion had previously listed as Cazador’s, was a name, scrawled in a delicate hand.

Vellioth.

Sekh set the scroll down, turning away from the room. It felt like a small prison, a tomb, chilled beyond death- with nothing of true comfort. Had this been where Cazador tucked himself away? Was this his true reprieve from the palace above?

Sekh almost felt sorry for him- would have, perhaps, if a churning anger in his gut over the torment the man had inflicted upon Astarion wasn’t so hot.

“Who was Vellioth?” Sekh asked, as they moved quickly out of the room.

“I don’t know,” Astarion said with a single shake of his head. “Whatever came before me, Cazador didn’t speak of it. But…” he paused, licked his lips, mulling his thoughts over. “Judging by those… visions, he may have been the one to turn Cazador.”

Sekh didn’t say a word, mulling over the endless cycle of torment it seemed these lords were apt to drag their spawn into. How far back did it go?

He pushed the thoughts aside- unimportant, in that moment. He needed to stay focused- Astarion needed him to stay focused.

They paused at another door, and Sekh pressed the ring into it. Just like the others, it slowly opened for them- instantly assaulting them with a smell of rot, of stale air and dirt.

Astarion grimaced, but they soldiered on, heading into the next room. However, only a few paces in, they were slowing, looking around in sheer shock, laced with terror.

There were golden plated cells, lining the room- filled with prisoners. They watched the party with glowing, yet nearly dead eyes, and Sekh felt the marrow in his bones icing over.

“Astarion,” he said softly, pausing in front of one cell, taking in the wretched state these beings were in. “What is this?”

“I… have no idea,” he admitted, his voice soft, shell shocked just like the rest. “Gods who are all of these… no.” He moved past Sekh quickly, grasped one of the golden bars, as a human man lifted himself from where he sat on the ground, moving with purpose towards Astarion. His sandy blond hair was long, unkempt, tangled with bits of dirt and- could that be blood?

Sekh could only assume.

“You. I know you.”

Sekh could see Astarion’s shoulders shake. “You’re dead.”

Astarion’s words went ignored. The man stopped so close to the cells that he was only a single movement from touching Astarion. “I remember you. You smiled at me, got me drunk in the tavern.”

Sekh felt his stomach sinking.

“Sebastian.” Astarion said the name with a reverence that made something inside Sekh utterly ache.

“You remember.”

Astarion swallowed thickly. His voice caught in his throat as he spoke. “You were shy- you’d never been kissed.”

“You taught me how. And then you destroyed me.” He man grabbed at the bars, nearly caught Astarion’s hands, as the elf stumbled back a step, nearly losing his footing. Sekh rushed to him, caught his shoulders and kept him upright, as Astarion kept his eyes locked on the cell. “How long has it been? How long have I been down here?”

Astarion closed his eyes when he answered, “One hundred and seventy years. You were one of my first.”

The man bared his teeth- and Sekh could see the points of his fangs. He turned to Astarion, as his lover opened his eyes, before glancing away-

As if he couldn’t dare to meet Sekh’s gaze.

“I know them,” he admitted, “now that I can truly see them. They’re my… conquests. Every wretched, poor soul stupid enough to trust me, to fall for a flirty line or an eager kiss…” He trailed off, before he pulled away from Sekh’s hold. “I thought Cazador was feeding on them- but he turned them to spawn. He turned them all to bloody spawn. And gods below, to keep Sebastian…”

He reached up, covered his mouth. Sekh wanted to reach for him, but even as he lifted his hand Astarion shifted away. He let it drop, instead turned to the cell, walked closer. He could see etchings in the skin of most of the victims- the decrepit spawn- varying in location. Sebastian's was along his jaw.

“They have runes, like you,” Sekh whispered.

“Did Cazador tie them all to his ritual?” Shadowheart asked. Next to her, Karlach was stone silent, eyes burning.

“He must have,” Astarion managed, sounding as if he had moved a few paces back, closer to the center of the room. As far from this horror of his making as he could.

“We’re here to kill the bastard,” Sekh said, reaching out to the cell. He carefully placed his hand over one of Sebastian’s, which were gripping so tightly his already pale knuckles had gone bone white. “We’re going to unmake Cazador.”

“You can’t.” The fire in his voice dropped, making him sound hollow.

“We can,” Sekh pushed, squeezing the hand below his gently. “Astarion is free of his command. We’re going to stop the ritual and we’re going to kill him.”

“And then what of us?” The hopelessness in Sebastian’s voice was so thick it could choke Sekh. “What does that mean for us?”

Sekh didn’t know. He just knew he couldn’t let them sit here, rotting for eternity, into nothing but dust and dismay. “I don’t know,” he admitted, and the hand below his pulled away, as Sebastian took a step back.

“Whatever you’re going to do, just do it quickly. I can’t go on waiting any longer.”

Sekh stepped back, felt Karlach’s warm hand on his back, urging him towards what had to be the final door. He moved to it quickly, Astarion waiting there, looking eager to get far from this room.

“That wretched bastard,” Astarion muttered, “he kept them all. I should have known he never could have fed that much.” He closed his eyes, took a steadying breath. “They’ve been dead for so long.”

“They’re not dead,” Sekh said, even if he knew they were, technically. “We can help them.”

“Help them?” Astarion turned, looked at him with burning eyes. “There is no help for them. They’ll have no control over their hunger- they’ll be ravenous, mad. Best they just…”

Be put out of their misery.

Yet Astarion didn’t say it.

“You learned to control your hunger,” Sekh pointed out. Astarion scowled.

“Yes, but I had… help. Unless you’re going to take over parenting seven thousand spawn, there’s nothing we can do. Besides, they have to die.” His lips curled then, that same, ugly smile Sekh had seen creeping along his otherwise handsome face, since Raphael had revealed the truth. “If I want to ascend, they’ll all have to burn with Cazador.”

“You cannot be serious,” Sekh breathed, knowing that Karlach and Shadowheart were only a pace away, catching snippets of their conversation. “Astarion you cannot still want to do this.”

“And why not?” The vampire lifted his chin. “After two hundred years of pure shit, I deserve more. I would never have to fear anyone, ever again. Nor would you.” He reached out, brushed his fingertips along Sekh’s cheek. They felt colder than usual. “I’d meet the sun everyday without fear of becoming a Mindflayer. You and I- we could have everything, then. Don’t you want that?”

Sekh reached up, pulled Astarion’s hand away from his cheek. “No,” he admitted, and watched the smile on Astarion’s face drop. “I have everything I need already. I have you. You- exactly as you are now. I have no interest in loving a godly abomination, Astarion. I would’ve hoped you’d know that about me already.”

Blindly, Sekh reached out, nearly slammed his fist into the door, the signet ring slotting into place. The door opened, and Astarion turned away from him, facing the large ritual space.

Sekh could only hope Astarion wouldn’t lose sight of himself, at the end of this. He had to trust the man he loved to do the right thing.

They descended the stairs, the dias coming into full view- the other spawn were suspended, paralyzed in the same red magic that had crackled along the ballroom door. And standing in the center, a god amongst his own personally crafted hell, was Cazador.

The visions Sekh had seen in the vampire’s chambers didn’t do him justice. He was imposing, carried himself as if he was gold plated steel. As if he was holier than thou.

As if he was already a god, and this was just a mere practicality.

“Is this truly our prodigal son, standing before us? Crawling back home?” His voice echoed in the vast chamber, felt like it could rattle Sekh’s bones. It wasn’t deep but serpent like in the way it coiled along his nerves.

Astarion’s lip twitched, his shoulders hunching slightly. He was coiled tight.

Cazador frowned. “Do not slouch before me, boy!” The force behind his voice would have had Sekh staggering back a step, were he simply not so bloody determined to not give even an inch to this bastard. “Have you no respect for yourself? For what I made you? You should be groveling, begging our forgiveness for abandoning your family!”

Sekh ground his teeth, fought to keep himself from launching at Cazador, to keep himself from screaming in sheer rage at him.

“Forgiveness?” Astarion asked, “You’ve never forgiven anything! In two hundred years, every perceived slip, every mistake you fabricated was punished. You’ve never forgiven a single breath.”

Cazador looked nothing beyond bemused at the outburst. “They told me you had changed. I dared not believe it.” His mouth quirked into a smirk, the point of one long fang visible. “But you cannot change what you truly are, my boy, my little one.”

Astarion went paler than death. Sekh flexed his hands, began pulling on magic and shadow. The moment he had Astarion’s blessing, he was going to tear into this man and enjoy plucking his every nerve to make him howl.

“I made you what you are, Astarion. You will never be anything more.”

Astarion fisted his hands. “No, fuck you, and fuck everything you ever did to me.” He charged, fist pulled back- but before he could make contact, the air around Cazador crackled, sanguine tendrils snaking around Astarion’s fist, his arm, keeping him firmly in place.

“Oh little one,” he cooed, “you truly forgot my power. Did you think it was only our bond as spawn and master that kept me above you?”

There was such thick insinuation in the words that Sekh wanted to vomit.

Cazador reached for Astarion’s fisted hand, uncurled his fingers. Astarion looked ready to snap his jaws like an untrained dog at the touch. “What is this trinket, boy?” Cazador plucked the ring off his finger, holding it up to examine, as if he had not a care in the world. “Pathetic, dying magic.”

He turned his eyes to Sekh then, and the drow swore Cazador’s eyes were eating him whole, alive, bones and all.

Sekh knew, from the flicker in his eyes, he could smell, sense the same magic on the ring he wore.

“How sweet,” Cazador said, the word sounding foul, from his mouth. “Did you think you found a happily ever after with cattle, my boy? Are you not better than paltry magic and dark dwelling harlots?”

In a swift motion, Cazador threw the ring. It hit the dias once, bounced- and then the sound was gone. It had fallen off the side, into the abyss below.

“Did you think you could run from me and build a sad little existence without me?” He paced around Astarion then, his eyes locked on Sekh. “He reeks of you, boy. Did you plan to breed cattle like a bitch in heat and fill the realms with your own precious little spawn?”

He jerked his staff, and Astarion lifted violently into the air, his armor tearing from him, until he was half naked, those scars on his back glowing. Another flick of Cazador’s wrist, his staff, and Astarion was cast into light, with his brothers and sisters.

The moment the crimson light lit Astarion’s skin, Sekh was moving. He threw himself at Cazador, grabbing at his robes, pouring sheer concentrated necrotic magic from his core at him.

The vampire shoved him away, such force behind the move that Sekh crashed onto the ground, rolled until he nearly reached the edge of the dias. As he lifted his head he saw Karlach charging, screaming in infernal rage as she swung her great axe towards Cazador. Shadowheart was casting radiant light around them, as the undead that had flanked their master began to move.

Sekh pushed himself up. He wanted to go for Cazador, to tear at his throat- but he couldn’t bear to leave Astarion suspended in that hellish magic. He couldn’t risk everything being aligned for Cazador’s ritual.

He launched himself towards Astarion, running to cross the dias. One of the ghouls reached for him, tore at his robes, but Sekh was able to keep his flesh away from those claws, even as fabric tore. He charged harder, punching his left fist into the next ghoul, sending it back a step.

Just enough space for him to open his palm and unleash Syl’s shadows. They hit the ghoul with such force that he launched off the dias, falling to his death.

Sekh stumbled up the steps to Astarion, reaching up into the magic. He grasped at the elf’s bare waist, and with all his body weight he pulled. Astarion lurched forward, as Sekh fell onto his back, the vampire sprawling on top of him.

“I have you,” Sekh managed, his voice breathless, Astarion’s weight pushing the air from his lungs. Astarion scrambled up, and without a word or a moment of hesitation, ran towards Karlach and Cazador, pulling at the daggers still sheathed at his thighs.

Sekh pushed himself up, only to be grabbed by a wolf-like man, claws tearing into his ribs, pushing at his skin. He writhed as it lifted him up, could smell the carrion on its breath, the sheer heat from its insides.

“Reeks of spawn,” it said, “just like Master said.” It nosed at Sekh’s neck, gave a shuddering breath, and Sekh elbowed it in the throat. The creature choked, but gripped together, nails digging into skin now, little beads of fresh blood welling up beneath Sekh’s robes. “Eat you whole,” it mused, even as Sekh tried to kick it in the gut.

He reached for its throat, but the creature threw him back to the ground. Sekh sprawled on his back for the third time, shoulders aching from the impact. Around him there was screaming- shrieks of the undead, Karlach’s rage fueled screams, Cazador’s laugh.

And yet, over it all, he swore he could hear each of Astarion’s breaths, the man’s own growls of frustration, of rage.

Sekh reached out with his left hand, pulled hard on Syl’s shadows. He felt them shifting on his face, felt them beginning to burn, dragging down his neck, his shoulder, as he sent a blast into the lycan. It stumbled back, well into a ghoul and knocked it off balance.

Sekh stood, took advantage of their stumble, and sent another blast at them- leaving them careening over the edge, falling into nothingness.

He glanced at his hand as he turned, noticed the shadows were twining within his skin, along his fingers, his palms, the back of his hands- he hadn’t seen Syl’s shadows take this much of him in a long time.

He turned just to see Cazador burst into glittering, crimson mist, Astarion’s dagger going directly through it as if he was only air. It flitted away quickly, faster than any of them could move-

And then he materialized, directly in front of Sekh.

“Curious,” Cazador said, before he grasped Sekh by the throat, lifted him up into the air, as if he was nothing but a child’s ragdoll. “I see nothing about you that should be different from the thousands the boy has bedded before.” He turned, holding Sekh higher, his air choking from his lungs. Cazador grinned wickedly at the party, who were frozen, still coiled and ready to leap at him- but unmoving, while he could at any breath crush Sekh’s windpipe.

Sekh reached up, curled his hand around Cazador’s wrist, poured every ounce of necrotic magic in his body into him. He pulled from the cracks in his spine, from his very marrow-

And the man didn’t even blink.

Sekh felt his heart sinking into his gut.

“Now, boy,” Cazador said, directing his eyes back to Astarion. “Be good and go back to your place. I’ll drain him quickly if you do- and you won’t live long enough to remember it.”

“You son of a bitch,” Astarion snarled, his eyes looking wild, rabid. 

Cazador tutted. “Such disrespect. I taught you better. You used to say please for me- used to thank me.” Sekh gritted his teeth, black spots dotting his vision. The look of shame that crossed Astarion’s face turned his vision red though, despite the lack of oxygen.

Sekh screamed mentally for Syl- but instead of her presence felt a sudden burst of fire, within him. For a moment he didn’t know what it was- she had always come when he called, when he needed her most-

But as the fire snaked through him, sent his skin to tingling, he realized it was everything she had to give him. It was the full extent of her shadows that she could pry from herself and gift to him.

It was more power than he’d ever felt in his life.

Sekh bared his teeth, reached out with his left hand, and screamed brokenly as he grasped at Cazador’s face, dug his blunt nails into his skin. Shadows erupted from not just his palm, but his entire body, snaking around Cazador, tightening, burning. The vampire yelled- but released Sekh, dropped him as he staggered back, one hand reaching for his face.

Sekh caught himself, watched as Karlach and Astarion lunged at the opportunity, rushing Cazador. Shadowheart stayed a step back, hands bathed in a golden moonlight, calling it down in perfectly symmetrical rays, dotting the dias with them.

Sekh held onto the power flowing through him, firing wave after wave of shadow at Cazador. The vampire would dodge one, only to have to sidestep a ray of Shadowheart’s light, and then pull away from Karlach’s heaving axe.

Astarion got a good slice into his side, during the first dance. And then across his lower back, with the next few steps. Cazador was getting just a tick slower.

Sekh stepped into one of Shadowheart’s rays of light, uncaring as it burned his skin, curling his hands as he wrapped the shadows around Cazador’s neck, squeezing. The man stumbled, and Sekh watched as Astarion drove a blade directly into his side, twisting it as he snarled.

Cazador went down onto one knee. Sekh tightened his hold, his shadows creeping up along Cazador’s face, pushing at his mouth, wanting to delve into his lungs. Choke his dead breath out of him from the inside.

It was only then that he heard his name, whispered in horrific awe, from Shadowheart. He glanced at her, before looking at his own hands-

The shadows covered both, writhed and twined within his skin. Could he see himself, he’d realize that his left eye was no longer just black along his iris, but the entire eye- little black tendrils creeping along the white of his right eye as well.

The shadows were consuming him.

Sekh took a breath, and with a rage at himself for not being able to properly contain them, pulled back his hold from Cazador. He pushed at the shadows in his mind, felt them receding slowly, the burning beginning to fade to the simple, buzzing warmth he was used to, when he used Syl’s magic.

He jerked himself from Shadowheart’s light, as Cazador grabbed at Astarion, was ready to pull himself up- when the spawn smacked the butt of his dagger directly into his nose, shattering cartilage. Cazador’s head jerked back, and Astarion kicked him directly in the chest, sent him sprawling back a few paces, sliding through Shadowheart’s light to burn his skin.

Cazador’s staff separated from his hand, rolling a pace away. As he went to reach for it Astarion leapt closer, landing with his foot on his old Master’s wrist, grinding bone. Cazador yelled, and Astarion loomed over him, looking down at him with a grin that seemed beyond even devilish.

“Get off me, you worm,” Cazador snarled.

“Worm? I’m not the one in the dirt.” Astarion ground his boot into Cazador’s fractured wrist, quite obviously reeling as the other vampire grimaced. He bent down, reaching for the ornate dagger still sucked as Cazador’s side, lifting the twisting, vile blade into the magical light of the chapel.

Cazador thrashed, but Astarion acted as if it was nothing but a bug trying to move beneath him. Sekh could only reason that Cazador had put so much energy into holding the ritual together that he was now completely drained.

“One last thrust,” Astarion mused, turning the dagger in the light, “and I’ll be free of you.” He inhaled deeply. “I’ll never have to fear you again.”

He was so close to freedom, to breaking the chains that had shackled, choked him for nearly two centuries. Sekh’s heart was pounding, but something was twisting in his belly, sick and uncomfortable at the look in Astarion’s eyes.

“But if I finish the ritual you started,” he continued, his voice pulling from his chest, his lips curling back into that ugly smile that Sekh could see in nightmares. “I won’t have to fear anything ever again.”

Shadowheart whispered his name, alarm on her face- but Astarion was in a world far beyond them, it seemed. Everyone but he and Cazador had melted away.

“Do you think me a fool?” Cazador spat, as he tried to move. Astarion kicked him in his chin, before moving his foot back to his broken wrist. Cazador’s head jerked back, an unneeded breath escaping him, blood rushing from his mouth where he’d bitten his own tongue.  “You pathetic child,” Cazador growled, “you cannot replace me! You are nothing Astarion- you have never been anything.”

“I’m the one above you now,” Astarion pointed out, before he stepped back. Cazador managed to scramble up to his knees, eyes darting to the staff that was just out of reach. Then, with a look of sheer glee, “Even now, you’re on your knees.”

“A place you know well.” Cazador bit each word out with bared fangs. “Do you think I would let anyone ascend in my place? You’re bound to this ritual boy, through the runes on your back. Attempting to usurp me is suicide.” That mouth curved into a smile then, as if Cazador had backed Astarion into a corner. “You were always a means to an end- and if you ever believed a single honeyed lie I told you otherwise, you are more pathetic than I ever thought. I made you to be consumed.”

“I am so much more than what you made me.” Astarion turned then, eyes finding Sekh’s, allowing him into the private world he’d constructed around he and his old Master. “I can do this, but I need your help.”

“Didn’t you hear him? You’ll be consumed if you complete the ritual. It’s suicide, Astarion.” Even as he said it, Sekh felt like the words were hollow. If the vampire felt there was a way around his own sacrifice, Sekh believed it would work.

“Trust me,” Astarion said, something that Sekh did. “I know what I’m doing.”

“You’d kill everyone, Astarion.” All his kin- the other six, the thousands of souls Cazador had kept over the years.

Astarion frowned, brows knitting together. “They all died years ago. There’s nothing left but feral spawn in those cages- trust me. They’re as good as dead already. Now,” he straightened, “use the parasite- link your mind to mine. I’ll be able to see my scars through your eyes, and carve them into his back.”

Sekh took a single step back. Astarion knew how much he hated using the parasite- that having another presence pulling in his mind was almost unbearable, considering he already had Syl. He had only used it precious few times, to share what he could otherwise never show the elf.

And yet, Astarion had asked.

“If they’re freed,” Astarion added, sensing Sekh’s trepidation. “Imagine how many deaths will be on our heads. But if they die for a purpose, I’ll have everything I ever lost back. I’ll be able to walk in the sun without fear of becoming a Mindflayer. I’ll be free, truly, completely free. Isn’t that what you want?”

Yes, it was what Sekh wanted. He wanted Astarion to be free of the torment Cazador had inflicted on him. But he wanted him to be free of the regret, the fear, the endless turmoil that had built within him, over the near two hundred years.

This would never free him of that.

“I want you to be able to live with yourself, Astarion.” Sekh forced himself to take a step closer, even if his gut feared the man he was looking at, in that moment. It didn’t drown the fact that he loved him, still. That Astarion was still there, beneath this palpable, coursing fear. “I want you to be proud of who you are, of the life you live. Could you live with this? Could you stand yourself knowing you became exactly what Cazador always was?”

Astarion paused then. Sekh held his stare, and watched as those eyes softened, slowly. The smile fell from Astarion’s face, and Sekh wished so badly he could see whatever was reeling behind those eyes.

“You’re right,” Astarion said, softer now. “I can be better than him, more than him.” He turned then, quickly, the smile coming back- yet different. The same smile Astarion got during a good bloodbath, but still rang true of the man Sekh had come to know, over these past few months. “But I’m not above enjoying this.”

Before Cazador could even lift his hands, Astarion was on him, grabbing him by his hair and jerking his head back. The blade slipped cleanly into his chest, as Astarion stabbed him with enough force to shatter bone. The vampire pulled back, stabbed again, and again, and again, as Cazador convulsed, blood spraying Astarion’s pale skin, pooling around his old Master.

With a yell Astarion flipped the blade, released Cazador’s hair as the man slumped to the ground. Astarion sank it into him again, the blade sinking into his gut, skewering long dead organs. Each shuddering breath was a cry, until Cazador was unmoving except for the constant flood of his stolen blood, rushing from his body.

Astarion stumbled back a step, dropped the blade. He gasped for breath, a broken sound escaping him, before he fell down to his knees, staring at Cazador with eyes that seemed lost. He looked terrified.

Sekh moved, as Astarion wailed, like a glass man shattering. He dropped to his knees, threw his arms around the vampire, held him tight as his body was wracked with sobs.

“I have you,” Sekh whispered, holding so tight it could have hurt, yet Astarion didn’t try to pull away. He turned, pressed his face into the crook of Sekh’s neck, tears soaking into his robes. “Gods I have you, Astarion.”

Sekh rocked slightly, as the magic in the room began to fade, with the last of Cazador’s running blood. Slowly the other six spawn were released, stumbling to catch their balance as their feet hit the cold stone. They looked around, before slowly moving towards Astarion.

“Is it… is it over?” Dalyria asked, eyes darting to Cazador’s bled dry body, and then to Astarion, still securely in Sekh’s arms. Sekh glanced up at her, and watched as the glow in her eyes faded.

The death of Cazador’s thrall-hold, over her. Over them all.

Astarion pulled himself from Sekh’s hold, stood up on shaking legs. His already chilled skin was littered with goosebumps now, from the cold crypt air. “Yes,” he breathed, “he’s gone.”

Sekh stood up, hurriedly opening his robes, as the rest of the spawn closed in, still a step further back than Dal dared. Sekh took his open robe and draped it over Astarion’s bare shoulders, watched the vampire clutch it with one hand, pull it tighter around him.

Sekh fought to keep from a single grimace, as the air rushed his wounds, the claw marks from the ghouls and lycans, the bruises forming along his dusky skin. He could endure it. Astarion needed a bit of comfort more, now.

“What does that mean for us?” Petras, sounding terrified. Looking petrified. Sekh softened, looking at all of them, despite their treatment towards Astarion, towards him. They were all victims, in the end.

“It means you’re free,” Sekh offered, when Astarion didn’t speak. Petras turned his gaze to the drow. “It means your choices are your own now- you can do as you wish.”

“Which sounds terrifying,” Astarion managed, straightening up more. “And it is. But there’s opportunity there. You can remain here and hide in the shadows- or you can be more than he ever meant for us.” Astarion glanced at Sekh then, and when the drow gave him a soft smile, he relaxed slightly. “Or you can choose differently, it is all up to you. But the consequences are your own as well.”

Dalyria smiled over that, seemed pleased, proud in a way. Sekh still felt she was different, than the others- and hoped maybe someday Astarion would shed light on that.

“And what does it mean for them?” Dalyria gestured into the dark, at the thousands of starving spawn. Astarion hummed then.

“Now that is a question.” He hesitated only a moment, before stooping down, picking up Cazador’s staff, looking at it. “They deserve the same chance I had- the same chance we all have now. They’re innocent.” Astarion slammed the butt of the staff into the dias, leaning on it, as the runes carved into the floor ignited. “I won’t let them rot in ruin just because I lured them here.”

Sekh didn’t think it was just for Astarion’s conscious, though. He knew each of the seven spawn were just a guilty as he- had brought Cazador just as many broken souls. Had condemned the same innocents to death.

He was releasing them all from that guilt.

The red light over took Astarion and the staff, for just a moment. When it went out, the sounds of endless cells opening, of voices rising from behind, below, echoed throughout the chamber.

They were free. Every last one of them was free.

“They’ll need guidance,” Sekh offered, as the light faded, Astarion sagging slightly, exhausted. Karlach moved up next to him, took the staff from his hands, as Shadowheart pressed a reassuring hand to his back. “Most of them won’t survive, but they deserve a fighting chance.”

“The Underdark,” Astarion said, and Sekh nodded.

“Take them to the Underdark. At least you won’t have to fear the sun there- and,” Sekh offered a smile to the spawn, “if they happen to feed on some Lolth loving fools, well- we’re better off.”

Astarion gave a single, breathy, exhausted chuckle. “Using my kin to cull out the spider bitch’s followers? Tactical.”

Sekh shook his head once, as the spawn began to move- listening, he hoped. For their own sake, and the sake of all the others.

He reached out, when Leon moved past them, gently touching the human’s arm. The man turned, looked at him- and for a moment, there was a flash of shame on his face. For everything he’d said about Astarion, to Astarion- and to Sekh, the previous night.

“Your daughter,” Sekh said softly, aching at the thought of the dead child he’d seen.

And Leon must have known, somehow, because he smiled. “I sent her away,” he said, as Astarion lifted his head, looked at him. “She’s safe. If you saw something that makes you think otherwise- know it was planned.” He turned his eyes to Astarion, and after a moment of hesitation, added, “I was wrong about you, Astarion. Very wrong.”

He gave a single nod, before he moved to follow the rest. Sekh turned to Astarion, took a step closer to him, reached up to cradle his cheek.

“I think we’re done here,” Astarion whispered, eyes fluttering shut. “He’s gone, let’s just go.” Sekh nodded, pulling his hand away and glancing at Karlach.

“Mind ridding us of that thing?” he asked, gesturing to the staff. She grinned.

“Oh with pleasure.” She hefted it high, before cracking it down on the ground. The wings of the ornate bat shattered off, before she turned on her heel and swung it into one of the stone structures on the dias. It snapped in half, and Karlach hurled the half she was holding into the distance, so it fell over the edge.

The other half followed quickly.

Sekh turned from the spectacle back to Astarion, pulling his robe tighter around him. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered, wanting to wrap himself up around the vampire and never let go. “You did the right thing.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Astarion managed, voice soft, aching, trembling. “Because I’m- I’m not so sure. I just feel… numb.” He glanced around, eyes locking on Cazador’s body. “Please, can we go.”

Sekh nodded, gently turned him around, towards the stairs. He paused for a moment, leaning over to Shadowheart, whispering into her ear, “Make sure he can never wake again.”

The cleric nodded, a determined smile on her face, and Sekh placed a hand to Astarion’s back, ascending the stairs with him. When they reached the top, Sekh heard the sound of Karlach’s axe cutting through flesh, bone, embedding in polished stone.

Astarion paused, eyes darting to Sekh. “It’s alright,” Sekh offered, “we’re just making sure that no matter what divine or infernal power wants to intervene, he can never come back.”

Astarion swallowed, nodded, and continued walking away from the chamber, and all the horrors and splendors it had ever promised.

*

It was dark, by the time they returned to the Elfsong. While Karlach and Shadowheart had taken care of Cazador’s body, Sekh and Astarion had been accosted by the Gur- waiting for them on the antiquated elevator.

Sekh was proud of Astarion, for how he handled them. The silence that seemed to overtake him, after the other spawn left, faded- and Sekh stood back, let the man speak for himself, as Astarion deserved. The Gur’s children were free, like the rest of the spawn. There could be hope, for them.

It was Astarion trying to right the wrongs he’d done, under Cazador’s enthrallment. It was Astarion trying to claim autonomy over his actions and their consequences.

He’d lapsed back into silence after, and even now remained quiet as Sekh pulled his robe off him, left it piled on the floor by the wooden tub, filled with steaming water. His eyes were far off, and while it made Sekh ache so deep inside him it felt like a new cavity had been discovered, he couldn’t blame Astarion for being in shock.

He’d be more alarmed if he wasn’t.

“Can I?” Sekh asked, hands resting at the waist of Astarion’s pants. The vampire gave a single nod, and Sekh worked open the lacing of his trousers, guiding his clothing carefully off his narrow hips, down his thighs.

Once he had Astarion naked, he helped him into the water. As he settled, Sekh could already see the water going pink, from all of the blood that stained Astarion’s skin.

Sekh carefully cupped water in his hands, wetting Astarion’s curls. Leaning against the tub dug into the bruises along his waist, but he ignored the ache. He’d get bandaged and cleaned up after Astarion was cared for. He could wait.

His vampling couldn’t.

“Okay?” Sekh asked, once Astarion’s hair was thoroughly wet. Another single, silent nod. Sekh lathered his hands then, worked suds into Astarion’s hair, gently scraped his blunt nails against Astarion’s scalp. He could feel the elf relax, slightly- just enough that Sekh knew he could register his touch.

He thought to hum a tune, softly, while cleaning his lover up. But Sekh’s mind drew a blank on any song he had ever heard- and then he questioned if he could even keep a rhythm. In the end, silence won, as he finished with Astarion’s hair and helped the vampire rinse the suds from his curls.

This time, as he leaned against the tub, bare arms sinking into the water as he worked soap along Astarion’s body, his touches were entirely innocent. As he worked along Astarion’s stomach, the vampire tipped his head back, rested his head against Sekh’s shoulder. From the corner of his eye, Sekh could see Astarion’s were shut.

He could feel his little breaths, against his ear, in his hair.

Astarion was still resting against him, quiet, when Sekh heard shuffling, around the privacy screen- and then Wyll, leaning around it, holding a bundle of folded clothes in his arms. Sekh smiled at him, pulled his arms from the tub and turned to kiss Astarion’s forehead, as the elf’s eyes fluttered open.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, as Astarion sat up, freeing him. Sekh stood, toweled his hands off quickly, before he stepped away from the tub, around the screen. “Thank you,” he whispered, taking the fresh clothes from Wyll. The last thing he wanted was to put Astarion back in bloodied, sweat drenched clothing.

Wyll gave him a nod, before glancing down his bare torso, frowning at the bruising and open gashes along his body. “You need to get cleaned up.”

“I will,” Sekh said, “I promise. Just let me take care of him first. Please.” Wyll’s face softened, and he nodded, taking a step back.

But before he turned to leave- “I’m proud of him.”

It made Sekh smile. He was too. So, so proud.

*

Once Astarion was clean, dried off, and dressed, Sekh walked him to their bed. As much as he didn’t want to, he left him there with the promise that he’d be back shortly- he just needed to get cleaned up.

He would have been fine to do it himself, but the moment Wyll saw him going through their medical supplies, the other warlock ushered him away, taking him to Halsin so the two of them could help. Sekh was glad they hadn’t tried to bring in Shadowheart- he wanted her to rest, as well. She’d exhausted herself with Cazador.

They all had.

Sekh bit his lip as Halsin’s large, warm hands cleaned the dried blood off his tender skin. He was mottled with bruises, and from the way Wyll clicked his tongue when he looked at his back and shoulders, they must have been worse.

They wrapped his waist carefully, covering the wounds, but after that Sekh waved them off. It was enough. Take that energy and use it to patch up Shadowheart and Karlach- he’d be fine for the night. He just wanted to get back to Astarion.

With a shared look, Halsin and Wyll let him go, and Sekh hurried back to Astarion’s side. He slowed as he reached the bed, noticed Astarion on his side, partially curled up, facing the wall. On the ground was the bottle that had held the last of their angelic reprieve, from Blurg what felt like centuries ago in the Underdark.

Sekh stooped down, grabbed the bottle and set it aside. He could see Astarion breathing softly, the gentlest rise and fall of his chest, shoulders- he was asleep. Truly asleep.

The drow grabbed their blanket, pulling it up over Astarion, tucking it in around his shoulders. He nosed at his damp curls, dared to kiss his temple softly. Below him, the vampire sighed.

Carefully, Sekh climbed into the bed- not stretching out with Astarion, but sitting, settling his back firmly against the wall. He’d keep watch over him all night, ensure that any nightmares that dared to rear their ugly heads within his mind were banished. He’d make sure that for a single night, Astarion could truly know rest.

As he rested his head against the wall, words from his very first night with Astarion echoed in his head- You sleep, I’ll keep watch.

It was lifetimes, eons ago, when the man was a stranger, nothing but writhing secrets and a lying, handsome smile. And yet Sekh had been drawn to him. Something inside him sang at the mere sight of Astarion, even then.

He closed his eyes, took a slow breath. He’d keep watch over Astarion for a lifetime, if the vampire needed it.

And even if he didn’t.

*

Astarion stirred as morning dawned, light seeping in through some of the windows. Sekh watched him press his face into the pillow, before his eyes fluttered open, thick silver lashes nearly hiding those pretty crimson eyes.

Sekh smiled, from where he sat, against the wall. “Good morning Starshine,” he whispered. Astarion rolled from his belly to his side, still fully tucked under the blanket, looking up at Sekh with sleepy eyes.

The drow felt his chest bursting.

“What are you doing?” Astarion managed to ask, his voice slow, groggy.

Sekh frowned. “Sitting?”

And oh the frustrated little huff Astarion gave him was adorable. “I can see that,” he mumbled. “But why?”

“Just keeping watch so you could sleep.”

There was a long moment of silence, before Astarion sat up, the blanket pooling around his waist. His curls were in sheer disarray, wild and whimsical.

He frowned, but it was more of a pout, and Sekh fought very hard not to chuckle. “I’m not so precious that I need you to keep watch,” Astarion pointed out, even if there was little force behind his voice.

“You’re so precious to me, though,” Sekh corrected- and even as he tried not to, Astarion’s lips began to curl into the softest of smiles. Sekh offered his hand, but Astarion ignored it. Instead he twisted the blanket with him, crawled into Sekh’s lap and sat with his back pressed to his chest, managing to get most of the blanket over them, trapping in their heat.

Sekh smiled, curled both his arms around Astarion’s waist, nosed at his hair. The vampire felt lax, in his arms- had a bit of heat from being wrapped up in the blanket, but not much. He hadn’t fed, the previous night- and Sekh could only imagine the hunger was clawing at him.

He released his hold with one arm, reaching a hand up from the blanket and silently offering a wrist. When Astarion didn’t move, Sekh kissed his curls, murmured, “you need it love.”

Astarion’s hands emerged from the blanket, held Sekh’s arm as he brought his wrist to his mouth. For a single moment there was just Astarion’s breath, against his pulse, and then the feeling of his lips, pressing to skin as his fangs sank in deep.

Sekh bit back a noise, a sharp ache radiating from the puncture wounds. When Astarion pulled back enough to remove his fangs, though, the ache faded, as it always did.

The drow felt Astarion’s tongue, pressing to the wounds- felt him tremble over the first true taste. He tightened his hold on Sekh’s arm, drank deep, and Sekh closed his eyes, head tipping back against the wall. He heard a small, pleased sound from Astarion, muffled into his wrist, and smiled to himself. He hugged Astarion with the single arm around his waist, felt the vampire’s tongue pushing hard at the wounds.

Sekh flexed his arm, encouraged the blood flow, even as he felt a sense of vertigo beginning to creep in. He didn’t care- he could handle being a little bloodless if it meant Astarion was comfortable.

Yet just as the dizziness began to sink its nails into his mind, Astarion lifted his head, sucked in a shaking breath. Sekh could feel his body warming already, the fingers clutching at his arm no longer chilled.

Carefully Sekh lifted his head, as Astarion dragged his mouth over his wrist one more time, collected the blood that had welled on those little puncture wounds. Then, carefully, he held the hand to his chest, cradled Sekh’s arm in his own, pressing it tight to him.

“You’re going to get blood on you,” Sekh whispered, as Astarion shifted slightly, settling.

“When has that been a concern?” The vampire tipped his head back, and Sekh could just see the color that had returned to his cheeks. “Honestly, I think it’s strange if we don’t have blood on us.”

Sekh chuckled. “Fair enough.” He let them lapse into silence for long minutes, could almost have drifted into a semi trance as he hadn’t rested the night before- when Astarion suddenly moved.

The vampire let go of the arm he was cradling, awkwardly shifted under the blanket, squirming about until he was facing Sekh, could straddle his thighs. The drow arched a brow, but before he could ask what he was doing, Astarion’s hands were on his face, cupping his jaw, thumbs rubbing along his cheeks.

The question died in Sekh’s throat as his heart quickened. Astarion looked at him, for a long moment, before he leaned in, placed a careful, almost tentative kiss to his lips. He pulled back, was only a breath away, before Sekh’s lips could even move.

Sekh thought his name, meant to say it- but before he could Astarion was back, surging against his mouth, kissing him with a sudden intensity that Sekh was dizzy, all over again. Astarion kept his hands on his jaw, fingers curling gently against his cheeks, mouth moving as if he wanted to devour Sekh.

Sekh reached out, got his hands on his waist, then his back, pulling Astarion closer. The vampire leaned into him, trembled when Sekh’s hands splayed on his back, over scars that felt warm, now. “What,” Sekh managed, between kisses, mind spinning as he could taste his own blood still on Astarion’s lips, tongue. “Are.” Another kiss, another lost breath. “You.” Another. “Doing?”

One final kiss, and Astarion leaned back, looking at Sekh with eyes he couldn’t read. Was that fear or elation? Excitement or terror?

“Just confirming something,” Astarion whispered. He pulled away then, pushed the blanket aside and stood from the bed, stretching. Sekh watched, could only wonder what was racing through the man’s head. “Best get up before we waste the whole morning,” he said, not looking back at Sekh, walking out into the large shared space, fingers working at his wild curls.

Sekh just watched, feeling enthralled, a smile he couldn’t even feel on his face.

*

It had been strange, to head into the city without Astarion. He’d had the vampire at his side since the moment their adventure had begun, with so few moments without his company. But he had been worried about him, despite that Astarion seemed in better spirits, that day.

Perhaps what was strangest was that Astarion hadn’t put up much of a fight- or any, for that matter. No snarky remarks about being left out of the fun, no following Sekh around batting his eyelashes, attempting to convince him to change his mind.

Just… acceptance.

It had left Sekh anxious, eager for the day to end. And while he felt in his gut it had been right to ensure Astarion got some rest, had time to come to terms with what he’d done- well, he didn’t have to like being away from him.

It was dark, by the time the party returned for the night. Sekh had been eager to strip of his robes, leave behind the sweat of the day- was still in the middle of redressing when he felt Astarion’s stare- never heard his footsteps, but simply knew.

A cool hand pressed to the small of his bare back, and then chilled lips, flitting a kiss on his freckled shoulder. Sekh smiled, glanced over as Astarion came properly into view. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back,” he admitted, reaching for the shirt Sekh had on the bed, offering it to him. “Once you’re dressed… there’s something I’d like to show you, if that’s alright?” Astarion cleared his throat, offered more quietly, “Something out in the city.”

Sekh pulled his shirt on, giving a nod. There was a bit of tension, on Astarion’s face- a nervousness, in his eyes.

“It’s not far, I promise.” He offered a hand, and Sekh took it, lacing their fingers together- watched Astarion’s eyes go so soft, so sweet, at the small gesture.

It truly wasn’t a long stroll through the evening streets, darkness in full bloom. Sekh wasn’t sure what he expected, but to be led away from the liveliness of the evening wasn’t it. Slowly the lights and sounds of the city seemed to melt away behind them, the backstreets they took basking in a silence that was thick, but not unpleasant.

Sekh nearly paused, when an old iron gate came into view. He could just see a few headstones, beyond it. A small graveyard, set off in what felt like a forgotten corner of the city- in a quiet world away from all of Faerŭn.

They stepped within the gates, moved past the first few headstones, back towards even older stones, scattered beneath an old tree. Astarion paused, a few paces from one, and Sekh didn’t need to read the name engraved on it to know who it belonged to.

“Nearly two hundred years,” Astarion whispered, hands flexing awkwardly at his sides, “and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there.” He took a slow breath, tore his eyes from the stone to look at Sekh. “I had to punch a hole in my coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. And then, when I finally broke the surface…he was waiting.”

Astarion hadn’t said Cazador’s name, since they’d been stopped by the Gur. Since they left the palace. The look in his eyes, it screamed that he feared so much as saying the man’s name could bring him back. But there was a sadness, pushing beyond that- a sadness that there was a truth to tell, his truth, still.

“He watched me retch dirt and congealed blood, put his hands on me and told me he could treasure me. From that day on, I was his.” A pause, a breath, and Astarion turned away, looked back at the grave. “Until today. Until this moment.”

“You were never his,” Sekh offered, daring to reach for Astarion, press a hand to his back. “Everything he took from you, he took by force. But you were never his.”

The sorrow in Astarion’s voice made Sekh hurt, between his ribs, down into his belly, creeping into his very soul. He knew what Cazador had taken, now. He knew the sordid details and the misery and the shame.

And he knew it would never happen again.

“But he did take it,” Astarion managed, the words catching in his throat- echoing words he’d said prior, in the dark of the Elfsong, confiding in Sekh as to the horrors Cazador had bestowed on him. “There’s almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock.” Sekh pulled his hand back, as Astarion stepped towards the rock. There were vines, growing over it. Astarion reached for them, brushed them away, fingers trailing over the stone, over the etching of his own name.

The Elvish looked beautiful, so carefully scripted.

“For nearly two centuries I stalked the streets like a ghost, while the person I was lay here. Dead and buried.” A deep breath, and Astarion turned, offered out his hand. Sekh moved to him, took it, let the man pull him close, so that his body heat could warm Astarion. “Now,” he said, thumb rolling over Sekh’s ring, “I need to figure out who I am. What I want.”

He lifted Sekh’s hand, laid it on his cheek, closed his eyes as the drow cradled him gently. Sekh’s other hand found his waist, but it was Astarion that moved to press flush to him. “And what do you want?” Sekh asked, softly. “What does Astarion want?”

Those eyes remained closed for a moment, before they opened slowly. When they did, Sekh felt his heart utterly stop, before it burst into a battering rhythm, crashing into his ribs. Those eyes said a thousand words that Sekh would never dare have dreamed of, once.

“You,” Astarion whispered, turning slightly, pressing a kiss to Sekh’s palm. “I want…” a kiss to his wrist, “you.”

Sekh slid his hand back, fingers tangling into Astarion’s curls, as the vampire took the space between them, his breath, and kissed him. It was sweet, slow, but so deep that Sekh felt his head spinning. He clutched tightly at Astarion’s side, thinking if he let go, if he dared for even one moment, he’d slip away, and Sekh would tumble from the very face of the realms.

“You were by my side through all of this,” Astarion whispered, pressing his forehead to Sekh’s. “Through bloodlust, pain, misery, madness.” He closed his eyes, his hands pressing to Sekh’s chest, sliding up over his shoulders. “You were patient. You cared.” They opened again, a burning fire of rubies and honesty. “You trusted me… which was an objectively stupid thing to do- and yet, you did it anyway.”

Astarion leaned back in, pecked Sekh’s lips softly.

“I feel safe with you. Seen.” He swallowed, thickly, the words ringing true and yet almost terrified. “And whatever the future holds for me, I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”

Sekh smiled- and the moment he did, he saw stars burst in Astarion’s eyes, the entire night sky seeming to take up residence in a sea of red. “You won’t,” Sekh whispered. “Whatever comes next, I’ve got you. I will always have you, Starshine.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” The words were playful, ringing back to nights so long gone, before the first touch, the first kiss. Before this. Before them.

“Never, to you.” Sekh pressed his lips to the bridge of Astarion’s nose, kissed softly, felt a chuckle rising in the vampire. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” Astarion pulled back then, and Sekh let him, even as he wanted to wrap him up in his very being. The vampire turned back to the grave, reaching for a dagger strapped to his thigh. “I should probably fix this.” He got down on his knees, and Sekh watched as he very carefully dug the blade into stone, etching his own update to his death- and his life- into the grave.

Sekh settled down on his knees, watched until Astarion set the blade aside, fingers brushing along the new words, brushing away flakes and dust from the old stone.

“I’ve been dead in the ground long enough. It’s time to try living again.” He turned his head to Sekh. “With everything life has to offer.”

Before the drow could breathe a word, Astarion was sliding closer to him, pulling him into his arms. He kissed him again, kissed him breathless now, deep and wanting, as if he was carving a story into Sekh’s very lips. Sekh trembled, held on, kissed back as if he’d simply die if he didn’t.

“And what does that mean?” Sekh managed, between kisses. Astarion moved from his mouth, kissed his jaw, then below his ear, hummed in delight at how easily Sekh moved for him, against him. That he was relaxed.

“If a night of passion is on offer,” he teased, “I could be persuaded.”

Sekh could hear the smile in his voice. “I never want to persuade you.”

A chuckle, a single kiss to his pulse. “Darling, you never had to. You…” Astarion paused, lifted his head. “Gods, I didn’t care for you, when we first met. Parading around as if you were ready to save the realm, that bleeding heart of yours threatening to drown us all. But…” he trailed off for a moment, smiled sweetly.

Nothing like the old smiles, from those first days. Raw, true, unpracticed.

“I do now. Being with you, it’s different. It’s about more than lust, about more than a transaction, determining how much of myself I need to give in order to get what I want, what I need. This goes beyond anything I’ve ever known. Beyond anything I remember. I look at you and I feel…”

He paused, chuckled at himself.

“That’s it, I feel. And I haven’t, in so, so long.” Another soft peck, Astarion’s next words whispered softer than the evening harbor breeze- yet sinking so deep into Sekh that they wove into his very marrow. “I love you.” Another kiss. “I love you.”

Another.

“I love this. And I want it all- I want everything. So long as there’s you.”

Astarion’s hands found Sekh’s face, cradled it softly, gave him another lingering kiss. As it ended, as Sekh let his eyes flutter open- gods, when had they shut?- the vampire smiled, all playful, coy, and moved his hands to his chest, splaying them and pushing. Sekh fell back, caught himself on his elbows, and watched the way Astarion grinned at him, silhouetted in moonlight.

Nothing like the smiles he’d seen, just before the ritual. All wicked, yes, but the sort that was playful, not wretched and all consuming.

This was the Astarion he’d fallen for. This was the love of his life.

Astarion crawled over him, and Sekh hooked an arm around his neck, pulled him in for the countless kiss of the night. Astarion slotted so perfectly between his legs, pushed at Sekh’s thigh with his knee, forced his legs wider. The drow shivered, as his lover traced the seam of his mouth, teased his lips but refused to push past them.

Sekh rocked up, nipped at Astarion’s lower lip, snagged it between his teeth. He got a pleased growl in response, as Astarion’s hips rolled against his. “Are you sure?” Sekh asked, releasing his lip, as Astarion bowed his head, pressed his mouth so eagerly to Sekh’s neck.

“With you? Always.” 

It was enough. Sekh trusted Astarion to be honest, with himself, with him. He owed the man that much.

Astarion nipped at the collar of his shirt, pulled on it, and Sekh chuckled. He pushed at his lover, forced Astarion up to his knees, so he could sit up, pull his shirt off and toss it away. The night air was cool but not cold, felt good on Sekh’s skin.

Skin that Astarion was quick to devour. His neck, his collarbone, before he was pushing Sekh back down, mouthing along his chest. Sekh sighed, as Astarion’s tongue circled his nipple- could just feel it- before the vampire dragged his teeth along one bud, got Sekh’s breath catching.

So pleased with himself, Astarion kissed down over one scar, moved to Sekh’s belly, following freckles over dusky skin along his navel, to the waist of his pants. He pulled at the lacing with his teeth, and Sekh tipped his head back, feeling dizzy, so hot under his skin he might combust.

“Astarion,” he breathed, felt the man’s lips on his lower belly again.

“Hmm?” the vampire hummed, hands moving up, taking over where his teeth had begun on Sekh’s lacing. “Is there something you want, love? Or…” he trailed off, tugged Sekh’s pants down slightly, managed to get them to bunch at the juncture of his thighs, so he could press his mouth to his cunt, kiss the warm skin through his thin underwear. Astarion shuddered, breath escaping him. “Is there something I want…”

Astarion was quick to pull Sekh up then, maneuvering them so he could tug off the drow’s boots, chucking them away, quickly tearing at his pants, his underwear, wanting all of his skin, all of him. Sekh pressed his shoulders back into the dirt, head resting directly beneath Astarion’s headstone, as the vampire grasped his thighs, spread his legs and smiled over the sight of him.

“There we are,” he breathed, long nails digging into Sekh’s tender thighs. “Gods I can see how wet you are. How is it that I do this to you?” Astarion turned those eyes to Sekh’s, looked as if he genuinely didn’t know the answer, despite his bravado, the false cocky charm.

He stretched out carefully, ran his tongue slowly up along Sekh’s slit, got a proper taste. Sekh arched, breath catching, mouth falling open as Astarion’s tongue pushed past his lips, found his clit and flicked along it slowly.

Sekh’s hands scrambled, along the dirt, looking for purchase. He rolled his hips to meet Astarion’s mouth, felt the rumble of the vampire’s groan. Needing to hold on, again for fear he might fall off the edge of the realms, he reached up behind him, grasped at the headstone. The stone was cold, so cold beneath his fingers-

Yet he liked it. Cold like Astarion’s skin- just another quirk to love.

Astarion pressed his tongue flat to Sekh’s clit, dragged over it so slowly, before lifting his head, sucking in a breath, studying Sekh’s face- the flush, the blown eyes, the slack mouth.

And oh, how he smiled. “Is it good?” He pushed Sekh’s thighs open wider. “Do you want it, pet?”

Sekh managed a nod, a broken Astarion, and the vampire was back, licking eagerly at his cunt. First, his clit, then dragging his tongue further down, pushing it inside him, over and over again.

Sekh writhed, clutched at the grave until his knuckles went white. He could feel everything building in him, heat and desire and need and a heaviness coiling in his stomach, snaking along his spine, constricting it so tightly. He moaned, wordless, and Astarion moved his skilled tongue back to his clit, quick, shallow licks over it, constantly, driving Sekh higher and higher-

He came with Astarion’s name on his lips, his headstone beneath his fingers, his thighs squeezing at the man’s head, holding him close. Astarion groaned into his wet body, let Sekh ride his tongue until the orgasm was beginning to recede-

And then he was crawling over him, kissing Sekh desperately, tongue tasting of Sekh’s bliss. Sekh sucked at his lower lip, released his hold on the headstone to grasp at Astarion’s back, as one of the vampire’s hands slid desperately between them, shaking, working at his own pants.

“You make me desperate,” he managed, voice breathy. “Like I could die without you.” Sekh pressed his face into the vampire’s neck, kissed his throat, then against the scars in his neck, as Astarion managed to take himself in hand. It only took a single thrust to have him fully buried inside Sekh, the drow whining into Astarion’s throat, the vampire squeezing his eyes shut. “Gods above.”

His hips rocked desperately, rhythm quick, making Sekh see stars. He pressed his teeth at Astarion’s throat, got a gasped yes from the vampire, and bit hard enough to leave little indents, in his pearly skin. Not to break skin, but still- a mark for the night.

A mark he could renew, every night, if Astarion needed.

Astarion was panting, Sekh could feel him trembling. He moved closer to his ear, managed between breaths, “Alright love?”

Astarion bit his lip, opened those eyes, as Sekh nipped at his ear, made him mewl. “Just,” he managed, “fuck, just so close already.”

The sheer glory of having Sekh come on his tongue had undone him, already, before he’d even begun.

“It’s okay,” Sekh managed, letting his head fall back, smiling. “You can come.”

Astarion groaned, eyes fluttering, lashes looking like white gold in the moonlight. “Darling,” he managed, even as his hips slammed against Sekh, as he drove into him with a feral need that was unsuppressable. “Not- without- fuck.”

Sekh pressed his forehead to Astarion’s, dug his fingers into his shirt, held on. “This is about you too,” he whispered, “just let yourself feel good, Astarion.” A little broken noise from the vampire, and Sekh added, “I want it, I want you to feel good.”

Astarion’s rhythm faltered then- desperate, wanton, as he chased his bliss. Sekh held tightly, loved each breath that fluttered against his kiss reddened lips, loved the small noises and single words Astarion managed, as he brought himself so close he could have seen the gods.

And when he came, Sekh could see the euphoria, in his smile, in the crinkles along his eyes as they squeezed shut. He smiled, too, kissed Astarion, spread his thighs until his hips ached and let the man fill his entire being.

When Astarion’s hips slowed, stilled, Sekh kissed him still. He kissed until he couldn’t breathe, and then kept going, until Astarion broke away from him, looked at him with so much affection Sekh felt his ribs caving in.

“I want this to be good for you too,” Astarion managed, and Sekh chuckled.

“I don’t have to come to feel good, Starshine. Trust me, I enjoyed every second of that.” Sekh clenched around Astarion, watched his eyes go wide. “I’m still drenched, aren’t I?”

Astarion bit his lip, fangs poking out against the plush skin, and gods he looked so sweet when he did that. “I could… take care of you again,” he offered, light in his eyes. “I always want another taste, after all.”

“Tempting.” Sekh moved his hands from Astarion’s back to his waist, gave him a single squeeze, before he eased him back. The loss of contact, feeling Astarion slip from his body, always made Sekh want to scream. “But someone is going to see us of we stay here.”

“Live a little.” Yet Astarion got on his knees, pulled Sekh up. The drow took advantage of the position, pressed his mouth over where he’d bitten, sucking at the skin. Astarion squirmed, trembling when Sekh took his half hard cock in hand, gave him a teasing stroke, before tucking him back into his pants.

“I plan to,” he murmured, “everyday. With you.” A kiss to Astarion’s cheek, now. “Now, if you help me locate my clothes which you tossed about, maybe we can get ourselves back into bed and… pick back up.”

Astarion’s eyes brightened over that, and he stood, helping to gather Sekh’s clothing, the drow dressing as he was handed each discarded piece. Once he was fully dressed, Astarion took him by the hand, was eager to pull him through the cemetery gates, could have run through the streets to get him back to the Elfsong.

But Sekh had one thing he wanted to do first.

He stood firm, and Astarion dropped his hand, watched with curious eyes as Sekh turned, crouched down at his grave. Very carefully he dug a few fingers into the dirt, making a very small hole, before he plucked his ring off, looking at it one last time in the moonlight.

“It doesn’t feel right to wear it without yours,” he said, as he set the ring in the dirt. Astarion watched, and Sekh knew there was a moment of sadness, in those eyes. Cazador had managed to take that from him, in the end. The first gift Sekh had given him.

Well, the first tangible gift.

Sekh covered the ring up, stood and dusted his hands off. “Seems only fair we both close a chapter on our lives now.” He turned to Astarion, took his hand, pulled it to his lips and kissed his knuckles softly. “Besides, you deserve something far prettier than that.”

Astarion lifted his chin. “Well of course I do,” he teased, before adding, “that doesn’t mean I wasn’t… fond of it.”

Another kiss, now to Astarion’s ring finger. “Then I’ll just have to get you another one.”

Sekh heard the breath leave Astarion. He smiled over it.

“After all, I did promise I’d have you forever. That means you have me too.” He laced their fingers together, nodded towards the gates to the cemetery. “Now, take me home, take me to bed, and let me tell you how much I love you until dawn.”

Astarion kept his eyes on Sekh, took a single step back, towards the gateway, leading away from the skeleton of his past, the remains of a man forgotten and long dead.

Taking a step towards a future worth knowing, worth living.

“With pleasure.”