You've known Dan Feng long before he became the High Elder of the Vidyadhara, before he donned the title of Imbibitor Lunae and became the legend he is known as now. Long ago, back when the two of you were mere children, playing in the waters of the Xianzhou Luofu.
imbibitor lunae (dan feng) x gn!reader
contains: childhood friends au, set before dan feng is a criminal, slow burn, long fic, ooc!character for the first half bc he's growing up and is an annoying teen, mentions of blade's real name, death, spoilers for 1.2
genres: mostly fluff, hurt/comfort, some angst bittersweet ending
word count: 8.6k
a/n: please do note that this is dan feng, not dan heng. and therefore i take a lot more liberties with how he is because i firmly believe that dan feng was more of a bitch than dan heng BYE ALSO THIS IS UNEDITED !! ILL EDIT IT TMRW WHEN I WAKE UP I JUST HAD TO GET THIS OUT BYE
img credits
Your best friend was an extraordinary being.
There was no doubt about it. Regarded as both the strongest and wisest of your people, he was chosen as the High Elder, Imbibitor Lunae. And he has served you well.
His feats are plenty, with his joining the esteemed High-Cloud Quintet, and you couldn't count the amount of time he'd saved the Xianzhou on one hand. He was smart, intelligent, and witty, quick to understand situations and formulate the best solutions. His enemies feared his presence on the battlefield, and his friends trusted him with their lives.
As did you.
You, a mere civilian. A single face among thousands of Vidyadhara, another footstep among the crowd. You, who have lived through his past and present. You, who knew him better than he knew himself.
You, who has been by his side since the very beginning.
━
It was a stormy day when you first met Dan Feng.
You were just a child back then, a Vidyadhara only eight years of age. Normally, at this stage in your life, you'd be guided by the current high elder, but it seems that you had undergone your cycle at the same time as the past high elder.
So as life would have it, you would instead be raised by your seniors, while the Preceptors tended to the newly reborn high elder. A skilled weaver in your past incarnation, you were taken in by your then coworkers, and raised within your craft of making lotus silk.
As such, your childhood was filled with looms, lotus flowers, and spinning threads. You spent your free time in the gardens of lotus flowers, hiding from your caretakers amongst the tall stems and diving into the waters to swim amongst them. You may not have had the draconic features of the High Elder, but you still adored the water like any other Vidyadhara.
And as it would seem, so did the High Elder.
It had been a hot and sunny day at the Luofu. The rays were smoldering on your back as you waded through the lotus fields, thankful for the cold water splashing against your legs. You squinted against the sun, adjusting your leaf hat on your head. Tucked against your arm was a woven basket filled with lotus stems, all of which would have fiber extracted from them.
The tall leaves and flowers of the lotuses dwarfed your child self in comparison, although you weren’t complaining. Although the water sloshed around your thighs, requiring you to roll up your pants more than your older coworkers, the leaves served as temporary relief from the sun’s rays.
You pushed stems aside, the field looking more akin to a jungle to you. You only needed one more before you could return home to the comfort of an air conditioner in order to extract the fibers for the threads. Thankfully, that wouldn’t have to wait long.
Once you found a suitable stem to harvest, you snapped it from its roots and began to wash it in the water. Your basket floated next to you, you keeping an eye on it to make sure it wouldn’t float away.
But then, you heard the stems rustle, and the waters splashing as something entered your field. Immediately, you stood up straight, holding the lotus stem more like a weapon than a crop.
“Who’s there?” you called out, your voice ringing through the silent and tranquil fields.
No response.
You huffed, carefully setting down your stem in the basket. Whoever it was probably thought you weren’t a threat merely because of your age. You’d prove them wrong.
You heard the stems rustle one more time, snapping your head towards the source. Picking up your basket, you marched over to a large clump of lotuses, a perfect hiding spot (you would know, you’ve used it many times before). A shadow around your size moved within them, submerging itself into the water.
You rolled your eyes. Another kid, then.
Pushing the stems aside, you saw the flicker of a draconic tail splashing the water, almost wagging as its owner lay face-first in the murky water. Without a second thought, you set aside your basket, grabbed the tail with your grubby little hands, and pulled hard.
“OW!”
The tail’s owner toppled out of the water, crashing into you in the process and knocking your foreheads together. You yelped, falling into the water with a splash as you held your aching forehead.
“What was that for?!” A child-like voice, much like your own berated you, a whine in his tone.
Glaring through your tears, you shouted back at him. “That was for bumming around on my farm!”
Your victim/intruder, a young boy with long hair, met your glare with equal fire. “I wasn’t ‘bumming around’, I was just… Cooling off! It’s hot today.”
You squinted, clearly not impressed. “I don’t care what you were doing! You’re not doing it on my farm.”
He lashed his tail angrily, splashing you in the process. “I’m the High Elder. I do what I want.”
You stared at him for a good second, taking in his appearance. He was a Vidyadhara around your age, only he had draconic-like horns protruding from his head. His long black hair flowed around him, and his fancy white robes were drenched in lotus water. It would’ve been obvious to anyone that he was a noble, someone of higher standing.
“No you’re not,” you said, deadpanning. “You’re too small.”
The self-proclaimed High Elder flushed red with embarrassment, jumping to his feet.
“I’m still growing!” he insisted, stamping his feet and splashing water everywhere.
“The High Elder’s supposed to be big and powerful!” you said, throwing your arms in the air to emphasize your point. “You’re… a kid!”
“You’re a kid too-!” The High Elder froze in the middle of his sentence, his tail stiffening at the sound voices - adult voices. Quickly, he grabbed you by the collar of your robe and pulled you into the shadows of the clump.
“Hey-!” He slapped his hand over your mouth to shut you up. In retaliation, you licked at his hand, the young boy recoiling in disgust.
“Did you just lick me?!” he hissed, looking at his hand in horror.
“You’re the one who just grabbed me-”
“Shh!!” He put a finger to his mouth, shushing you. “Be quiet! Can’t you see I’m hiding?”
“From what, the Cloud Knights?” you gasped, backing up. “Are you a criminal?!”
He gave you a look. “No! I told you, I’m the High-”
“High Elder? Are you there?”
This time, you both slapped a hand over each other’s mouths. An unfamiliar adult voice shouted over the fields, calling for the boy beside you. You both waited with bated breath as the man searched on the other side of the field, only letting go when he was far enough away.
“You weren’t lying?” you whispered excitedly, looking up at the boy with newfound respect. He crossed his arms, looking all high and mighty now.
“Why would I be lying?” he said matter-of-factly. “You were the one who didn’t believe me.”
You really wanted to make a witty comment, but then you remembered your stems, floating out in the sun. Panic seized you. You couldn’t let those stems dry. If they did, they’d be useless to you.
You jumped to your feet, hurriedly running to your stems. Thankfully, they were still where you left them, and in the shade. You sighed in relief, knowing that you would live to see another day.
You peeked your head over the lotus heads, spotting the man who was calling for the High Elder. He was wearing some pretty fancy robes himself, the robes you recognized as belonging to a Preceptor.
Cradling your basket once again, you walked back to where the High Elder was hiding. He looked up at you in surprise as you reached towards what used to be a preening lotus flower, now a pod filled with green seeds.
You snapped it off the stem and popped out one of the seeds. After peeling the green skin to reveal the white center, you handed it to the High Elder.
“Want one?”
The High Elder was wary at first, but eventually took the seed. He chewed it in his mouth for a little bit, his eyes brightening at the taste.
“It’s sweet,” he said in surprise. You nodded, taking one for yourself before giving him the pod.
“You have the rest on this one,” you said. You pointed in the direction of the Preceptor. “The big guy looking for you is over there, by the way.”
“Oh.” He took the pod in his hands, still a bit freaked out by how it looked. “Thank you.”
“Master always said I have to make it up when I do something bad,” you said, picking up your stems. With a start, the High Elder seemed to realize that you were apologizing. “Anyway, I have to go now. The fibers will dry up if I stay out here too long.”
“Wait!” The High Elder called out, reaching for you. You turned around, raising a brow. His tail waved nervously behind him as his hand faltered. “What’s your name?”
As you answered him, in the back of your head, you could’ve sworn you’d read this scene before.
You tilted your head curiously. “What’s yours?”
His expression was strange. It was a smile of relief and happiness, just from you not knowing his name. The waters responded to his joy, swirling gently around him.
“Dan Feng,” he said, his tail wagging slightly. “My name is Dan Feng.”
━
You remember seeing him dragged out of the fields a few hours later. You had been extracting fibers from the stems you’d collected when you’d heard the commotion.
Dan Feng was having his ear talked off by the Preceptor, but he was being awfully obedient. The two of you had met gazes, and he had sheepishly waved at you. Your hands were busy with your work, so all you could do was giggle at his predicament.
Of course, that wouldn’t be the last time you saw the High Elder - far from it.
Dan Feng would visit your farm often, whether it was for eating more lotus seeds, dragging you to go swim with him, or just to watch you work. Your mentors and coworkers grew accustomed to seeing the young Vidyadhara waiting for you outside the workshop.
All of his visits would end in the same way - a Preceptor would come and take him away for his studies, droning on about his duty as the High Elder while Dan Feng rolled his eyes behind their back.
It wasn’t like he hated his duty. You knew better than anyone that Dan Feng took pride in his role, he was just… stubborn.
“What are you doing?”
You flinched at the boy in question’s voice. Dan Feng was practically talking in your ears, his face right next to yours. You leaned away, batting away at him.
“None of your business,” you said, turning your back towards him as to hide your hands. Dan Feng pouted but didn’t push.
“If you say so.” He turned his gaze back to the open fields. His legs kicked as he dangled on the stone wall alongside you.
You sat in comfortable silence, feeling as the spring breeze blew gently around you. It was tranquil and quiet, as the lotus fields always were.
Dan Feng found he preferred it that way. It was nice to get away from the droning words of the Preceptors, and this little farm served as his favorite sanctuary. He could spend his days here forever, just being by your side.
His eyes shifted towards you again. You were oddly concentrated today, he noted, working on whatever was in your hands right now. It was unlike you to be so quiet. Usually, you’d be talking about the latest gossip you’d heard from your mentors, or complaining about the weather again.
He strained his neck, trying to see just what was taking your attention away from him. But alas, you saw him and snatched it away from him again. Frustrated, he blew at his hair, lashing his tail in impatience.
Oh, well. If you weren’t going to show him, you weren’t going to show it. It wasn’t like he wanted to see it anyways.
Dan Feng went back to spacing out, closing his eyes, crossing his legs, and focusing on the world around him. If he wasn’t going to do anything, he might as well meditate.
He reached his senses into the fields, losing himself in the environment. His ears were filled with the rustle of each individual leaf, the soft splashing of water, the croak of the frogs, and the buzzing of insects that inhabited the fields.
He could feel how the wind felt on every plant, the warmth of the sun not just on his skin, but on the skin of the other aquatic animals. At that moment, Dan Feng became one with the world. Nothing could break his concentration.
Nothing, except perhaps for you, who was trying to grab his hand as stealthily as possible.
Dan Feng snapped his eyes open when you took his left hand in yours. Apparently, you were too engrossed in your task to notice his eyes on you.
You slid something onto his ring finger. Dan Feng tilted his head, raising his hand to stare at whatever it was you put on him.
A band of woven grasses encircled his finger, the braid intricate and tight. Dan Feng looked at it in confusion, rotating his hand to get a better view of it.
“Do you like it?” you said proudly.
“What is it?” he asked, bringing it to his face to observe.
“It’s a ring,” you said obviously. You showed him your dominant hand, which had a matching ring on it. “I saw a couple of girls the other day with those friendship bracelets. I figured since we’ve known each other for a few years now, we should have something like that too.”
“Oh.” Dan Feng blushed at your words, a giddy feeling bubbling within his chest. Suddenly, the ring on his finger felt heavier, but also much, much warmer.
“It’s nice, right?” you hummed, holding your hand to the sky. “I mean, it’s not like one of those beads you can just buy, but I think it’s pretty special.”
“I love it.” Dan Feng beamed softly, holding his hand close to his chest. “I’ll treasure it forever.”
It melted your heart to see him so ecstatic over something as simple as a grass ring. He was quite literally glowing from happiness, his draconic parts illuminating with a soft sea green.
“I’m glad,” you said, hugging your knees to your chest.
Dan Feng looked at you, gratitude brimming in his eyes. He didn’t reach out to hug you (although he certainly wanted to), but rather, only wrapped his tail around your waist, tugging you closer to him.
━
You loved Dan Feng, you really did. But sometimes, you really wanted to tie him up and throw him in a ditch.
You sigh loudly in frustration, jabbing at Dan Feng’s wound with an alcohol-infused pad. The boy in question hissed in pain at your actions.
“Would it kill you to be gentler?” he attempted to jolt away, but your hold on his arm was firm.
It had been many years since you two had first met. The two of you were adolescents now, nearing adulthood.
Dan Feng had appeared at your doorstep after training once again to escape his mentors, only this time with a bloodied gash on his shoulder. He’d tried to hide it from you, but to little success.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone about this?” you shot back, angrily wrapping his wound with bandages. Dan Feng averted his gaze.
“It wasn’t anything they needed to know,” he said quietly. You paused in your wrapping to stare at him incredulously.
“Are you kidding me?!” You pulled on the bandages, tightening them. Dan Feng winced at your loud voice, waving his hand for you to quiet down. Granted, you did, but you still decided on berating him.
“Feng'er, this is serious,” you said through gritted teeth. “It’s not one of those scratches you can just lick away. What if it had gotten infected?”
Dan Feng sighed, opting to stay silent and instead watch you work. Despite your harsh tone, he knew that you were just worried about him. He didn’t blame you, the wound was pretty serious.
His eyes softened as he saw your hands trembling as they worked. Your face was a mask of angry calm, but he could see the shake in your eyes.
“...sorry.”
You blinked. “What was that?”
Dan Feng dropped his gaze guiltily. “I’m sorry. I made you worry.”
“When do you not make me worry?” you joke, tying the bandage into a bow. Dan Feng smiled sheepishly.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, touching your hand with his tail. “How should I make it up to you this time?”
“Hm…” You pondered the question, tapping at your chin before brightening with an idea. “I got it. How about showing me that little trick you were bragging to me about earlier, with the cloudhymm?”
Dan Feng laughed airily. “You always ask for that.”
“Well, no one around here knows cloudhymm except for you,” you said, crossing your legs on the floor. Your eyes practically glowed in anticipation - Dan Feng wanted to compare you to a puppy awaiting a treat.
The thought made his lips twitch as he held back his laugh. You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging him eagerly.
“So pushy,” he said dramatically, but you knew he was just teasing. He sat up straight, smoothed out his robes, and without further ado, he began his personal spectacle for you.
With just a flick of his finger, water materialized around him, taking the form of white lotus flowers in the air. Droplets stilled, as though someone had stopped time in the middle of a rainstorm.
You’ve seen this view many times before, but you were still amazed each and every time. A lotus flower hovered in front of you, bursting into a cloud of mist as you touched it.
You giggled, leaning back onto your hands, watching the lotuses drift off into the air. Unbeknownst to you, Dan Feng was preparing a whole nother surprise for you.
As your attention was captured by the lotuses, Dan Feng swirled his finger in the air. His signature teal water erupted in a spiral, taking the form of a roaring dragon. You jumped in surprise as it circled around you, flying toward the ceiling.
Dan Feng made the dragon dance around the lotuses, even bumping against your cheek. You squeaked as it did, light-heartedly glaring at Dan Feng. He only smirked back at you, before he enraptured your gaze with the dragon once again.
It glided towards the ceiling again, curling into a glowing orb of water. Dan Feng made a fist, and the dragon and the lotuses burst into a fine mist, making rainbows in the late evening light.
You were glimmering with awe, a permanent smile fixed onto your lips as you reached towards the ceiling to catch the mist. It was cool against your skin, like a little kiss from the rain.
“Am I forgiven now?” Dan Feng asked, amused.
You rolled your eyes. “Only if you promise to tell someone the next time you get injured.”
Dan Feng laughed. “Yes, yes, of course.”
You turned to look at him, only to find that he had been watching you this entire time, a fond smile on his lips.
━
“Are you sure about this?”
Dan Feng whispered anxiously as you skillfully maneuvered through dark alleyways and streetlights, your hand clasped tightly in his.
He kept looking back behind him, just to make sure that you weren’t being followed. He’d changed his appearance somewhat, making sure to hide his horns and tail, but he was still paranoid.
“Obviously!” you chirped back. You didn’t bother looking back at him, currently fixated on your destination - a crowd of bright lights, the smell of food, and the chatter of people. In other words, the night market.
Dan Feng let himself be dragged off by you, trusting that you knew these streets better than he did. He looked urgently back at you.
“When we get caught-”
“If we get caught,” you corrected, stopping momentarily to pull Dan Feng towards you. You let go of his hand to hold his face, pulling him to meet yours. “You trust me, right?”
Dan Feng sighed. “Yes, but-”
You squished his cheeks, effectively shutting him up. “No ‘buts’. What happened to the kid who would sneak off to swim in my farm?”
Dan Feng gave you a look, but with his face all squished up like that, you couldn’t take him seriously. Fighting down a giggle, you squeezed him one last time before letting go.
“Trust me on this,” you insisted, the lights of the market illuminating your back. “You couldn’t have lived for this long and not have been to the night market. You’ll love it, I promise.”
“And if I don’t?” Dan Feng hummed. You snorted, interlacing your fingers with his once again.
“Then I’ll do whatever you want later, alright?”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Dan Feng squinted as you pulled him into the depths of the market, the bright lights blinding him momentarily. The savory aroma of grilled meat and fried vegetables wafted into his nose, the chatter of friends, families, and lovers filling the air. The two of you were practically consumed by the crowd, the only thing keeping him from being swept away was your hand in his.
It was overwhelming, but not in a bad way. Dan Feng’s eyes widened with wonder as he took in the atmosphere around him. He wasn’t used to so many people being in one place, at the same time. In the lotus fields and in his palace, things were always quiet, still.
He could see children playing silly games with one another, jewelers selling their handcrafted trinkets, and so many street chefs, cooking right on the spot over open flames.
A tug on his hand broke him out of his stupor. You had been watching him all this time, a knowing smile on your face. You tugged him over to a stand that was selling what looked to be skewered balls of meat, dripping with a sweet glaze.
“They’re berrypheasant skewers,” you explained. You noticed Dan Feng’s disgruntled look and nudged him. “Don’t worry, it’s just the fruit that comes off their tails. They didn’t actually kill anything.”
“Oh… I see.” Dan Feng relaxed a bit after hearing that. You gave him a smile before talking to the vendor. Once you had acquired your skewers, you grabbed his hand once more, moving to a secluded corner of the market to enjoy them.
You wasted no time in biting off one of the fruit balls, closing your eyes in delight as you let it slowly melt in your mouth.
“That’s amazing,” you sighed in contentment, leaning back on a wall. You opened your eyes to see Dan Feng silently chewing on his. “How is it?”
“Sweet,” he said, swallowing it. “It’s not bad. Although, I prefer lotus seeds.”
“Really?” you asked, finishing off your skewer. “I like these better. Or maybe that’s because I’ve spent my whole life eating lotus seeds.”
“Perhaps,” Dan Feng agreed. He looked off in the direction of the market. “This place, it’s…”
“Loud?” you jested. Dan Feng chuckled.
“That too,” he admitted, “but the word I had in mind was ‘comfortable’.”
You hummed in agreement. “Well,” you said, pushing yourself off the wall. “We’ve only just scratched the surface. Are you ready?”
Dan Feng nodded. “Let’s go.”
Whatever happened next was a blur. What had started as you dragging Dan Feng around to try different food turned into Dan Feng pulling you to whichever jewelry store caught his attention. Sometimes, you’d lose him in the crowd, and run around panicked only to find him in the middle of getting scammed (to which you’d drag him off, giving death glares to whoever decided to prey on him).
You soon learned that this was a lot more tiring task than you’d originally anticipated. It was like babysitting a toddler - one minute he’d be standing at your side, watching you as you bargained with the vendor, and the next minute, he’d be across the street, trying on some new earrings.
And to make matters worse, every time you wanted to wring Dan Feng’s throat the second you caught up to him, he’d turn to you with that stupidly pretty smile of his, showing off whatever trinkets he managed to pick up this time.
And of course, like the weak soul you were, you couldn’t stay angry at a face like that for long.
But safe to say, you were relieved when you reached the end of the market and instead came to the edges of Central Starskiff Haven, right in front of the Jade Gate.
Here, the crowds had parted, allowing you to take a breather from your exhausting task. Of course, you were the only one who was tired - Dan Feng was vibrating with excitement, the brightest grin you’ve ever seen on his face.
“I take it you had fun?” you said good-naturedly, coming up beside your friend to watch the flow of starskiffs in and out of the Luofu. Dan Feng nodded, crossing his arms behind him.
“Most definitely,” he said happily. “The outworlder merchants have so many interesting things, I can’t help but be intrigued by them.”
“I could tell,” you chuckled. “I could barely catch up to you with the way you were running around. Imagine what the Preceptors would say.”
“We did agree that they would never find out, no?” Dan Feng pointed out. You shrugged.
“Fair enough,” you acknowledged. You gazed out into the glowing light of the Jade Gate before suddenly jolting in realization. “Lan above, I almost forgot!”
Dan Feng looked at you questioningly as you riffled through your pockets. His confusion only increased as you pulled out a small box, barely the size of your palm.
You opened it to reveal two jade rings, each with the image of a lotus carved into its band. Dan Feng feels his breath hitch at the sight, and something in his chest tightened.
“What…” he couldn’t even finish his sentence.
“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” you said. “I figured that now would be a good time to replace the ones I made when we were kids.”
That’s right. You didn’t just choose today of all days randomly. Today was Dan Feng’s birthday, and the day he officially became of age. Today was the last day of his childhood before he would fully take on the title of Imbibitor Lunae and the responsibilities that came with being the High Elder.
You couldn’t help but feel proud as you watched him take the rings with shaking hands. He’s still that stubborn child who listens to no one but himself, but he’s become so much more. He’s grown taller, more mature, more dignified.
And yet, he still looked like he might cry from your gift. He mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t catch.
“What was that?” you asked, only to be pulled tightly into his chest. Dan Feng squeezed you into his embrace as he tried to steady his breathing.
Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his waist, melting into his hold. Such moments like these were rare, after all. The furthest Dan Feng had ever gone with you was holding hands. Hugs weren’t part of his vocabulary.
“You know…” he murmured. “In human cultures, rings symbolize marriage.”
“Well,” you laughed into his skin. “We’re not human, are we?”
“Yes, but…”
“Are you trying to propose to me, gege?” You looked up at him, raising your brow playfully. Dan Feng blushed at the nickname, averting his gaze.
“That wasn’t my intention,” he mumbled, flustered. He quickly let go of you, hiding his face behind his hand as he tried to calm his rapidly increasing heartbeat.
You snickered at him. “I know, I’m only teasing. Here, give me those; I’ll put them on for you.”
But despite your words, Dan Feng couldn’t help the burning heat that enveloped him as you took his hand delicately in yours, sliding on the ring. He couldn’t stop his heart from pounding, couldn’t stop his thoughts of newly engaged couples doing exactly what you were doing.
And most of all, he couldn’t stop thinking of how badly he wanted to kiss you in that moment.
━
Ever since that day, neither you nor Dan Feng have taken off your respective rings. Dan Feng always kept it hidden beneath his gloves, while you showed it off even while you worked. You’ve been asked many times who the other ring belonged to, but you’ve never given them an answer.
One of these questionees was Yingxing, a passionate young outworlder who had come to the Luofu hearing of the feats made by Vidyadhara craftsmen. You’d met through a common friend of Jingliu, one of Dan Feng’s friends in the renowned High Cloud Quintet.
While Yingxing was a blacksmith and you a weaver, the two of you hit it off immediately. The two of you bonded over creating for the members of the Quintet, with you being responsible for the threads that made up their clothes, and Yingxing their armor and weapons. Many times, when one of you had a day off, one could find you in the other’s workshop.
You coughed as smoke arose from the furnace, fanning yourself. Yingxing glanced over momentarily.
“Are you alright?” he asked, a bubbling laugh in his voice. You nodded.
“Yes, just not used to so much smoke,” you sighed. Yingxing wiped at his brow as he took out the pot from the furnace, pouring the molten metal into the mold beneath him.
“If it bothers you too much,” he advised, “you should step outside.”
You shook your head, jumping down from your spot by the window. “I’m fine, don’t worry. But enough about me, what’s this you’re making?”
“It’s a spear for the High Elder.” Yingxing moved aside as you came up next to him. “See the way the metal glows from a certain angle? That’s the remnants of the Reignbow Arbiter’s arrow.”
“Fascinating.” So this was the weapon Dan Feng would wield.
You waved away embers from your face, and for a moment, their light caught on the ring on your finger.
“You’re married?” said Yingxing in surprise. You stared at him inquisitively.
“No? What made you think that?”
“Your ring,” he said, nodding at your finger. You looked down before spurting a laugh.
“Oh, this?” You toyed with it, fidgeting it on your hand. “It’s nothing like that.”
“You don’t sound so sure,” Yingxing commented. You huff.
“I am,” you retorted, nudging him. Yingxing whined at the jab, complaining.
“Don’t you know not to provoke a man with a hammer?” he threatened good-naturedly. You, being the very mature person you are, stuck your tongue out at him.
“Yingxing?”
The sound of your best friend’s voice interrupted your play argument as the both of you perked your heads. Dan Feng bent down as he entered the forgery so as to not hit his horns on the door frame.
“Dan Feng!” Yingxing greeted, waving. “What brings you here?”
“Don’t let me disturb you,” the Vidyadhara said, his nose wrinkling at the smoke filling the forge. “I’m merely here to check on the progress of the spear.”
“It’s still in the process of being smelted, as you can see.” Yingxing pounded away at the spear, shaping it into his desired form.
“Ah, is that so?” Dan Feng nodded. “I’ll come back tomorrow, then. Keep up the good work.”
“You’re going to leave without saying hi?” you interjected, fake hurt lacing your voice. “I’m hurt, Feng’er.”
Dan Feng flinched, as though he hadn’t noticed you at all.
“[Name]?” He straightens, blinking rapidly in surprise. Yingxing swore he’d never seen the High Elder brighten so quickly - he almost didn't believe his eyes when he saw his tail wag with joy. “I apologize, I didn’t see you.”
“It’s alright,” you laugh, walking over to him. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?”
“You two know each other?” Yingxing asked. Dan Feng narrowed his eyes, fixing the younger man with a glare.
“I should be the one asking you that, Yingxing,” he said lowly, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “When did you and them get so close?”
“We’ve been friends for a while,” you answered for Yingxing, lightly hitting Dan Feng’s chest. “Be nice to him.”
Dan Feng pouted, reluctantly letting you go. “But-”
“No ‘buts’,” you scolded, crossing your arms. “If you’re not going to be nice, you can step outside.”
Dan Feng looked akin to a kicked puppy, but he relented. Although, when he saw Yingxing, trying his absolute best not to laugh, Dan Feng felt murderous intent for the first time.
His tail lashed angrily behind him as he watched you converse with the blacksmith, Yingxing sweating from the pure pressure of Dan Feng’s stare. He’d never been so relieved to see you go.
“I have to go now, but I’ll come back later, alright?” you said, waving at Yingxing. You squeezed Dan Feng’s shoulder on your way to the door, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Don’t give him a hard time, okay?”
Dan Feng only nodded, briefly touching his hand to yours before you finally left, leaving the two men alone.
“So,” Yingxing coughed, looking anywhere but Dan Feng’s eyes. “Feng’er, was it?”
“You will not speak of this,” Dan Feng warned. Yingxing raised his hands in surrender.
“My lips are sealed, High Elder.” Yingxing smiled. “Although, if I were you, I wouldn’t wait.”
Dan Feng narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“How should I say this…” Yingxing pondered. “If you stall for too long, someone will sweep them away.”
Horror shot through Dan Feng like a bullet as he gaped at Yingxing. The thought of you leaving him for someone else, replacing him, hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he gritted out, taking a deep breath to calm down. “They would never replace me.”
Yingxing blinked. “Don’t tell me you haven’t realized.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Dan Feng, you’re-”
“Dan Feng, Yingxing, there you are.”
Jingliu crossed her arms in the doorway, her apprentice, Jing Yuan by her side.
“Was that [Name] I just saw run out?” she asked, raising a brow. She shook her head. “Nevermind that. I needed to talk to you two anyways. We’re heading out in a week’s time.”
“What for?” Dan Feng questioned, furrowing his brows.
“The Denizens of Abundance have invaded our ally Thalassa,” Jingliu disclosed, her voice tight at the mere mention of the Xianzhou’s sworn enemies. “We’ve been ordered to drive them out.”
“Very well,” said Dan Feng. “We’ll see you then, Jingliu.”
She nodded. “Until then.”
━
It was the first time Dan Feng had seen death.
War was never pretty for anyone, soldier or civilian. It was dirty, dark, and grimy. In war, you had two objects: one, defeat the enemy. Two, survive.
Dan Feng cursed as he ran his spear through another borison, the ocean of Thalassa responding to his anger. Dragons made from water, the same ones he showed to you all those years ago, drove back the enemy, blasting them away and incapacitating them in the process.
He kept his eyes ahead of him, deliberately avoiding the ground. There, laid corpses of allies and enemies alike.
Death was uncommon on the Xianzhou, especially for a Vidyadhara. There were no soulless eyes on the Luofu, no limp bodies littering the ground. There were no pleas for mercy, no screams of pain and fear.
But here, in the midst of a foreign battlefield, all of those horrors revealed themselves, and bared their teeth.
Dan Feng made the mistake of looking down. His eyes met with that of a deceased borison, its own lifeless eyes glazed over. Instantly, Dan Feng faltered.
The borison looked nothing but a Vidyadhara, but their eyes were the same. It might’ve been a different species, following a different Aeon, but the intelligence and sentience were the same. They were a person, just like anyone else. Just like you.
Only this one wouldn’t rebirth into a new life. No, this one was spoken for, done in by his spear. They would never live again.
The battle blurred around him as he spiraled deeper into his thoughts. He knew that realistically, it would never happen, but he couldn’t stop the thought from resurfacing in his mind.
What if one day, you ended up just like that borison?
Dan Feng shook his head, raising his spear just in time to block an attack from an enemy. No. It would never happen. He’d be there to protect you. The Cloud Knights would protect you. Xianzhou would protect you.
But what if they couldn’t?
“Dan Feng!” Jingliu’s shout snapped him out of his daze. Dan Feng clicked his tongue, irritated at his own absentmindedness. The battlefield was no place for distraction; he of all people should know this.
With a thrust of his hands, his dragons came to Jingliu’s aid, healing her wounds and fending off the borison attacking her.
He was being ridiculous, Dan Feng berated himself. The enemy was vastly overpowered. Their victory would come soon. And when it did, he would be able to come home, home to you.
And he did.
It was nighttime when he returned to the Luofu. You were just finishing up before bed, setting aside the fabrics you’d woven that day. Your former mentor had just checked in on you, making sure that you were doing alright before they went to sleep.
You heaved a heavy sigh to yourself, folding the final sheet before setting it on a shelf. Dan Feng and the others had been at war for months now.
“I wonder how they’re doing,” you muttered to yourself, closing your eyes. You knew they would be fine. Jingliu, Dan Feng, and every other member of the High Cloud Quintet were blessed with powers that you couldn’t even begin to imagine. The invading Denizens would be no match for them.
But still… You couldn’t help but worry.
What didn’t help was how obvious Dan Feng’s absence was. You often looked over your shoulder as you wove, as though expecting the young man to be standing there, watching. The night market didn’t feel the same without him being dragged around to every stall.
The lotus fields, with all their flowers and pads, seemed empty.
It was as though a hole had been ripped out of your heart, leaving only a dull ache.
The sound of your door opening startled you. You swiveled around, utterly confused. Just who would be here at this hour? Very few people had access to the key to your home.
Perhaps one of the other weavers? Or perhaps your mentor again, worried that you weren’t getting enough sleep?
The answer was neither. A strangled whisper of your name, in such a familiar voice, cut through the night air like a knife. Tears welled in your eyes as you took in the sight of your best friend, finally home after so long.
“Feng’er?” you whispered. He nodded wordlessly, taking a few hesitant steps into your home.
You met him halfway, reaching up to hold his face delicately. Dan Feng closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a little sigh. His arm came to the small of your back, pulling you in as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent.
“You’re late,” you murmured, brushing your hand through his hair. Dan Feng tightened his arms around you.
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” you laughed, sniffling. “Do you know how worried you made me?”
Dan Feng pulled away from your neck, gazing into your eyes. His tail swayed, eventually circling around your waist. He gingerly held your chin between his thumb and index finger as though you’d break if he was any rougher with you.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, brows crinkling. Quickly, he wiped away your tears. Of all else, Dan Feng hated seeing you cry, and hated it even more if it was because of him. “I’m here now.”
You nodded tearfully. “And you’re not leaving, right?”
“Not for a while,” he promised. “Even the Abundance will need time to recover from the damage we did to them.”
“Good.” You held his face in your hands. “Because right now, you’re mine.”
“Is that so?” Dan Feng said softly. His eyes lingered on your lips, his lips slightly parted. “I’m yours, is that right?”
“Mhm.” You smiled as you felt him press your bodies impossibly closer together, one arm around your waist and the other behind your head. Your lips brushed against each other, your voice a whisper as you two danced on the edge. “Mine.”
A push from Dan Feng’s hand, and he sealed his lips with yours.
Immediately, you closed your eyes, savoring the taste of his kiss. His lips were soft, yet cool, like the touch of a river on a summer afternoon. He kissed you with a hidden desperation, years of pining and longing unleashing themselves in this torrent of affection. You almost couldn’t keep up with him, letting out a whimper as he tilted your face gently, deepening the kiss.
Even when you parted for air, it wasn’t long before Dan Feng greedily pulled you back in, addicted to the feeling of your lips on his. His hands wouldn’t stop wandering in a languid motion, slowly roaming all over you, from your waist to your back to your neck, and back to your waist again, squeezing every bit he could find.
By the time Dan Feng’s relentless assault ended, the two of you were breathless. Words failed to form on your tongue as you simply stared into Dan Feng’s eyes, trying to catch your breath.
Dan Feng pressed his forehead against yours, his horns bumping against you.
"You don't know how long I waited for that,” he whispered huskily. You let out a breathless chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling his nose with yours.
“I think I did.”
The corners of Dan Feng’s eyes crinkled. You’ve never seen them so up close before. The colors reminded you of a stone in a river, with cool grey giving way to gorgeous teal.
And the way he looked at you made your heart melt - it’s so tender, so soft, so filled with love that you can practically feel how much he cares about you.
And you can only hope that he saw the same in your eyes.
“I love you,” he confessed, like it was a secret. But even still, him being able to say those three words made it worth more than anything in the world. “I’ve always loved you, ever since we were children.”
Joy bubbled up in your chest, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. Your hand came to his scalp, bunching up his hair in your fingers.
“I love you too, you dork.” You pecked him on his nose, and then his forehead, laughing as he wrinkled his nose in response.
Reluctantly, you released him from your grasp, instead tugging his hand into your abode.
“It’s late already,” you explained. “The Preceptors won’t mind if you come home late, right?”
“They no longer control me,” Dan Feng affirmed. You grinned.
“That’s good.” You lead him into your bedroom, glancing over to make sure he was fine with it. “I don’t have a guest room, so are you alright with sharing a bed?”
Dan Feng flustered, but he nodded. “Th- That’s fine with me.”
You would learn that Dan Feng was incredibly clingy in bed. He practically enveloped you in his arms, tangling your legs together as he hugged your shoulders. His tail was conflicted - either thumping happily against the bed or wrapping around you like a possessive snake.
But it was worth all of it. You felt safe in Dan Feng’s embrace, loved. In his arms, you slept the most soundly you’ve ever slept. It was as though you had found your other half.
You truly felt blessed when you woke up to Dan Feng’s sleeping face, so serene and tranquil. And fortunately for the both of you, that wouldn’t be the last time you woke up next to the other.
━
But those happy days were not made to last.
There would be many more feats Dan Feng would accomplish as the High Elder. He would become one of the most prolific Vidyadhara ever, forever documenting his name in history books.
You two would eventually marry, sealing your love not just with those rings. It was a marriage in the palaces of Scalegorge Waterscape, only the best for the High Elder. All of your friends attended, Yingxing and Baiheng especially praising Dan Feng (and lamenting about how he of all people got married before they did).
Jing Yuan had grown into a fine young man, his intellect and skill with the Lightning Lord being parallel to none. Yingxing was beginning to age, being a short-lived species. Jingliu had retired, aiming to end her days peacefully.
But as said before, that wasn’t what fate had planned for the quintet.
Jingliu would be driven mad with mara, her only solace being the blade of her former mentor. Baiheng would be missing in action. Yingxing would be killed long before his time, leaving Dan Feng in despair over losing three beloved friends so soon.
Perhaps that is what drove him to do what he did.
“How could you?”
Dan Feng winced at the crack in your voice as you screamed at him. You were crying, angry tears streaming down your face.
“My love, please-”
“Do not call me that!” you snapped, making him flinch. “You don’t get to call me ‘my love’ after that. What were you thinking?!”
“It was the only way!” Dan Feng insisted.
“It was cruel,” you hissed. “You know that more than anyone here.”
“They stole them from me,” Dan Feng growled, his eyes flashing. “It wasn’t their time.”
“I know,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying and screaming. “I know it wasn’t. But you know what immortality will do to them, Feng’er. You know what the curse of Abundance does.”
Dan Feng averted his eyes guiltily. You wipe at your eyes hurriedly, taking big, gulping breaths to calm down.
“What did the Preceptors say?” you finally asked. Dan Feng’s gaze lowered, a shadow cast over his face. A pit dropped in your stomach.
“They’re waiting outside,” he revealed. “I’m to be taken to the Shackling Prison, and forced into rebirth. They only let me be here to say goodbye.”
It was as though an anvil had been dropped on you, crushing you.
“No.”
It was the only thing you could muster out. You shook your head in disbelief.
“No. No, no, no!” you croaked out. “They can’t do that. Not to you.”
Ironic, how only a few minutes prior you were berating Dan Feng as though your life depended on it. Now, you were pleading for him to be forgiven, for a lighter sentence to be dealt out. Because for a Vidyadhara, a forced rebirth was practically the same as a death sentence.
“Isn’t there another way?”
Dan Feng shook his head, taking your arms in his hands.
“I’m afraid not. This is the only way the public will forgive my sins.”
He took a deep breath.
“Please, my love,” he begged quietly. “Look at me.”
You did.
“You have to be strong,” said Dan Feng, cradling your face one last time. “Promise me that you’ll be alright, even after I am reborn.”
You shook your head. “Feng’er, please.”
“Promise me,” he urged.
“I…” You faltered. “I promise.”
Dan Feng smiled sadly - the last smile you’d ever see from your husband.
“Thank you.” He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, a kiss to last you the lifetimes he wouldn’t be at your side. “I love you, [Name]. And I’m sorry for being such a selfish husband.”
You closed your eyes, savoring him for the last time. Silently, you told him your forgiveness.
“I love you too, Dan Feng.”
That was the day the love of your life died.
━
Centuries have passed since then.
You’re still weaving, now taking care of your rebirthed mentors as they had cared for you. There are children under your wing now, hoping to learn your craft and one day start a business of their own.
You still keep in touch with Jing Yuan, the general visiting your farm every so often. Each time, you offer him a taste of the lotus seeds Dan Feng loved, but each time, he refuses.
Yingxing has become the Stellaron Hunter Blade, cursed with immortality and the mara that comes with it. If he remembered you, he never showed it.
The Ambrosial Arbor, reawakened by the Denizens of Abundance, runs rampant, threatening the existence of the Luofu itself. You hear from friends that Jing Yuan had enlisted a group of outworlders - the Astral Express - to help him with the crisis.
And now, those very outworlders were standing outside your door.
“Par-” Jing Yuan coughed, cutting himself off. “Pardon the intrusion, [Name].”
He was currently being held by a young Vidyadhara, one that… Your breath hitched.
One that looked almost identical to Dan Feng.
Your lover’s lookalike noticed your gaze at him. The second you met eyes, he seemed to know exactly what was going through your mind.
“...I’m not him.” He repeated this sentence for the nth time today.
You smiled sadly.
“I know.”
You turned to Jing Yuan, taking in the general’s sorry state. The outworlders, a young girl with pink hair, an older brunette man, and a grey-haired teenager all seemed to be in similar shape, although definitely better than the general.
You stepped aside. “Why don’t you all come in? It’s been a while since I’ve had company.”
“Thank you.” The brunette, who you would later come to know as Welt, thanked.
As you turned away, Dan Feng’s reincarnation noticed a jade ring on your finger, recognizing it as the one he had woken up in.
“That’s…”
You hummed, raising your hand. You’ve never taken it off, not even when Dan Feng was reborn.
“You recognize it,” you mused. “I suppose that means he still has it?”
The reincarnation hesitated, but nodded. You smiled.
“That’s good. Say, what’s your name, little one?”
“Dan Heng,” he answered.
“It’s a good name.” You stepped away for a moment to the kitchen. “I apologize; the tea may take a while. I wasn’t expecting guests.”
“It’s no matter,” Jing Yuan assured.
And as you served tea to the Astral Express, you couldn’t help but notice: five people, seated around a table, enjoying tea. Just like a scene hundreds of years ago.
You chuckle to yourself, a carved lotus glimmering in the light on your ring.
"your fate has been decided, and nothing can stop destiny. except your destiny is not what was promised to you, for better or worse."
word count: 5.2k tw: overall dark themes, harmful homelife (it's yours, but like fictionally), suicidal / depressive language (also in relation to you, fictionally, and hopefully not actually)
"He will be pleased with you, my dear."
The woman who slips on your shoes won't stop telling you this. No one has stopped telling you this. Since you awoke this morning, it's all you've heard. While you bathed your last bath, while your hair was combed one final time, while you're dressed in your last set of white robes, while your body gets weighed down by all the gold clasped to your wrists and shoulders for the first and final time.
You hear it until you can't anymore. Until their murmurs are lost to the autumn winds of the mountain, as the procession stays and watches you proceed further up the path. Before the maw of a gaping cavern.
Then you're the only one left to remind yourself as you take one steady step after another into the darkness. Towards him, the being you belong to. Your promised destiny.
He, who is bigger than you could've ever imagined, is waiting for you there. A dragon covered in violet and black scales, with the greenest serpentine eyes. A noble being from legends with steps that shake the earth and fire on his tongue.
You hope he is pleased, you think as you close your eyes against the smell of ash.
Beneath the darkness behind your eyes, you hear his massive body scrape the sides of the cave. You picture yourself crushed beneath boulders and dust. You keep your eyes firmly shut.
Air brushes past you like a whip. Displaced from his tail, thrashing. You picture yourself pierced upon it. Your eyes stay closed.
His lumbering walk echoes across the rock. A pounding, steady tempo that rattles your brain. You picture your body torn to shreds by his talons. Your eyes remain shut.
The noise is receding. The echoes quiet down to silence. The only noise left to ricochet in your skull is your own pounding heart.
You open your eyes.
He is gone. Returned to the dark from which he emerged.
You don't know how long it takes to finally come to terms with the fact that he has left you. The sun is still at your back, a reminder of the unblocked escape.
You follow after him instead, wishing the light a parting goodbye.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
You walk blind. Steady, sweeping steps are your only guide as you slowly chase after your promised resting place.
But then your eyes start adjusting and adjusting further still. You realize that must mean that there is light where you are headed.
You don't know whether to be disappointed or embarrassed that you said your final goodbye a bit too soon.
Your path starts to expand, widening until you are standing before the bowels of a massive open cave. A hollow impression that travels all the way up to the top, where a single opening lets the sun touch the bottom.
You've never seen so much gold in your life. You didn't even know so much gold could exist at once in the same place. It is scattered and stacked everywhere. It reflects the light coming in from the top across the entire expanse of the cavern.
It even reflects off the bright green of his eyes.
He lies in the center of his riches, nestled in a spot in the ground that dips lower than the rest. Like it's been eroded to his shape from repeated use.
His head is raised while the rest of him remains prone. His body encircles itself into a pose reminiscent of the cat behind your care home, napping in the fields.
You're not sure where to go, what to do. You didn't plan to still be alive to be able to think these sorts of thoughts.
You move to hug the wall, pressing your back against the nearest surface. Taking care not to touch even the slightest bit of treasure. You let your legs give out and slide yourself to the ground with a heavy slump.
You're asleep before you even realize it.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
You awaken, and you know you haven't been unconscious long. The light still sits the same amongst the gold.
But he has moved closer. Perched as still as a statue. With eyes only for you.
You've seen something like this before. The cat that slept behind your care home would hunt the mourning doves in a similar fashion. By staying very still until the opportunity to strike arises.
The scent of brimstone tickles your nose. Your robes are the same color as those mourning doves. But unlike them, your wings have been clipped a long time ago.
There is a grave tension in the air that stops you from closing your eyes. You always pictured your final memory being the darkness, but the sight of the light gleaming off his scales isn't so bad either.
For a stretch of time, nothing happens, no one is moving. Does he wish to give chase? Is your form so boring that he requires further entertainment?
But then you start to really take notice of his positioning. The way his body is turned to the side, as if he wishes to shield the sight of his riches from you. Much more defensive than you initially thought. Then you remember that you are technically in his home. You are a guest in his territory. And the mistress always told you that a proper guest brings gifts upon arrival.
Slowly, you raise your hands. He is so still that if it weren't for the way his eyes track your movement, you'd think he was rooted to the ground. Behind your neck, you unclasp a chain of gold. Holding it high for him to see before lobbing it towards the nearest pile.
For the first time, you are privy to the sight of him blinking.
Your body takes that moment to remind you that you should be sleeping. Now that the air no longer smells like it will spark, you close your eyes and retreat back to unconsciousness.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
When you next open your eyes, it's because he is moving. A combination of both stalking and slithering through his collection of artifacts toward the exit at your side. He barely regards you as he passes. You listen to his steps get further and further away.
You wonder if you should follow.
Your body decides for you. It begs you to sleep, and thus you do.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
Something is thrown at your feet, yanking you from your dreams.
It's a branch of mulberries. Well, an entire bush of them. There is dirt still clinging to its roots.
You look up and spot the beast returning to its preferred spot. Taking practiced loops around the depression in the ground before slumping down with a deep huff.
The weight of his large body hitting the ground displaces some of the gold off his piles. You watch as coins and cups and jewels alike fall from their pillars, landing in spots where others just like them lie.
Maybe those treasures would've been at the top, once upon a time. Maybe they, too, had once been knocked from the tops of piles by the force of his settling.
How long has he been here for his habits to have been recorded in the very rock he sleeps on?
His eyes are closed now, and you think about closing yours too. Instead, you reach out to pluck the nearest berries from off the branches.
Idly, as you chew and contemplate his intentions, you wonder if this means he is displeased with you. Does he wish there was more to you? The mistress made sure you were more than amply fed before the parade.
You eat until your fingers are stained, until your body commands you to return to unconsciousness and leave these worries behind.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
It is the middle of the night, and you're only awake because your bladder demands it. You shuffle blindly through the dark just to do your business.
Eventually, you return, stopping to watch the way the moon's faint glow is reflected in the gold scattered across the space. You can't make out the beast, though. He must be too well hidden in the shadows.
Hoping you have not awoken him, you return to your spot and shut your eyes.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
Opening your eyes, you are greeted with his stare, already trained on you. It only takes you as long as it does to realize what he wants because of the lingering fog of sleep behind your eyes. But then you're unclasping another golden adornment and chucking it towards his collection.
You think, as you close your eyes, you hear him make a noise like a huff. Almost like a content sigh.
It feels comical to even consider. So much so that you can feel your painfully cracked lips lift in an amused smile before slipping back into unconsciousness.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
You are not hungry, you conclude as your body forces you awake. But god, is your throat sore. And painfully dry. You lick your lips and wince at the responding sting.
It is night now. Thus, it takes your eyes longer to adjust to the subtle light of the moon and stars.
You have never been thirstier in your life. It's just about all you can think about. You didn't think you'd have to think about it, honestly. You didn't think you'd still be alive to be able to think.
You're not sure what your continued survival means, whether he's displeased or waiting for the right moment or not. At this point, it doesn't matter because you're just so damn thirsty.
You don't bother with being quiet, too busy staving off your raging headache as you stand on wobbly legs. Nor do you check to make sure the beast is even there.
All you concern yourself with is making it out of his cavern. Trying not to trip on your billowing cloak. Trying not to fall face-first because you're walking blindly through the darkness with a swimming head and a hollow stomach. You're not sure where your own swirling vision ends and the caves' pitch blackness begins.
Eventually, you can make out the end of the cave. Where the opening breaks off into a dirt-laden path that leads into the surrounding forest.
You try to remember where you could potentially find water. Except your feet get tripped up underneath you, tangled in your dragging train. What little breath you have gets knocked clean out of your lungs as you meet the ground.
And don't get back up.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
In your dreams, there is a breeze. Then a surge. A whirlwind that penetrates beneath your robes and makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.
In your dreams, there is a man. The most beautiful man you've ever seen. His hair is as dark as the night, second only in color to his horns. And his eyes are the most striking green. But unlike other men, this one even has wings. Spinal, webbed wings like those of your beasts.
He reaches for you with elegant hands, nails as long as talons. Mistress would not be pleased to know you have let a stranger touch you, dirty you.
But you cannot find it within yourself to care. Not when this stranger's touch is so light, like he's scared to break you. The last time you were treated this gently, it was the day you were to be sent as an offering.
Maybe this man could be your end. The beast obviously does not want you. But this man is collecting you in his arms like you are something precious.
The scenery blurs and ebbs. You're not sure where he is taking you, but his skin gives off the most comforting warmth. You hadn't even realized how cold your bones were. How numb your fingers feel.
But then something cold touches your lips. His finger, damp with liquid, traces and smooths over your cracked skin.
Water.
The next time he brings his hand up, you are ready. You drink from his palm, cupped full of cool water. So frantically, you end up vomiting it all back up. But he is patient and instead feeds you water in small increments until your head no longer pounds.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
You are warm. The mistress must've started a fire. You probably fell asleep in front of the hearth again. She will surely scold you for possibly letting ash dirty up your hair.
It takes a mountainous amount of effort to peel back your lids, crusted as they are with sleep.
You are in the middle of a very familiar cavern. Surrounded by hefty piles of gold and jewels. The sun is high in the sky, perfectly lined up to shine its rays straight down into the belly of the cave from the opening above.
The sights are familiar enough, but it's the angle at which you are looking at them that seems wrong. If you didn't know any better, you'd think you were lying where the dragon would normally be—
A beastly huff sounds from directly next to you. You can feel it kick up your hair from the force.
Slowly, you turn your head to the side.
Black scales, climbing horns, a snout as long as your body, lying resting against the ground. He slumbers not even an arm's reach from you.
You are not sure how you got here, but you think it's important that you leave.
Sitting up takes longer than expected, purely because whatever ache has taken itself up in your muscles refuses to make your life any easier. The mistress once told you that creatures such as him have such superior hearing that a pin drop could sound like a thunderclap. Keeping a steady eye on him, you push up on shaky arms, moving extraordinarily slowly. There is a sizable gap in the semicircle of treasure through which you can make your way out. You'll just have to be careful not to trip over any spare coins or jewelry.
Eyeing your escape path, you shift to your knees and attempt to stand.
A growl, deep and rumbling, sounds from behind you. Strong enough to rattle your very bones.
Freezing in place makes the noise stop. You dare to turn your head toward the being at your back.
A singular eye is open and watching.
A shudder runs up your frame, sucking all the warmth you may have had from your veins.
"... I was just—" Your voice croaked like the worst frog imaginable. It takes more than a few swallows to clear it. "I was just about to leave. I never wanted to invade your place of rest."
That only seems to perturb him even more, starting the growl right back up again.
This wasn't right, nor was it good. He was supposed to be pleased with you. You didn't want to be a poor guest to him, unwanted.
"I'm sorry," you try not to sound pleading. That never does anyone any good, you've learned. "I don't want to upset you. What should I do to make this better?"
He answers by swinging his long, spiked tail around and planting it right in the path of your escape route.
"... You... do not want me to leave?"
He doesn't respond, naturally, but he has yet to resume growling.
You have a hard time believing this to be true. Just a few days ago, he was defending his possessions against you; now you are a part of it. What could have changed?
His eye is still trained on you, watching for something. You follow where you think his gaze is going.
Tradition details that when offering a tribute, the vessel must be adorned with gold. Thus, your white linen robes and cloak have golden thread embroidered across them. Patterns such as flowers, branches, animals, some more abstract-looking than others.
The thread catches on the high noon sun, reflecting just enough to get his attention.
Hesitantly, you start shuffling back to your previous position. Lying on your side, head tilted up towards his gaze, you watch in wonder as he seems to truly relax once he deems you back where you should be.
That electric green eye closes, and eventually you decide that so should yours.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
You wake to a similar sight as before. Talons scrape against the sedimentary floor as he leaves. Sustenance, most likely.
You can feel your heart beating in your chest, another reminder of the life you still have. There is also the strain in your gut. You wait for as long as you deem it safe before rising, semi-unsteadily, to go and quickly relieve yourself outside.
Once finished, you promptly lie back down when you return.
Again, you escape to the quiet darkness behind your eyes.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
The beast returns not long after with another berry bush. You grab what you deem good enough to eat as he makes himself comfortable.
You eat until your hands are thoroughly stained and join him in slumber shortly thereafter. Feeling tortured with unanswered questions and unresolved promises.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
Waking the next day, you eat more berries to try to quench some of the thirst in your throat.
The beast stays asleep. Except somewhere in your gut, you feel like he is more than aware of where you are.
But if so, then what is he waiting for? What else do you need to do to satisfy him?
Your eyes are heavy. You have never been more tired. You lie back on the stone floor and sleep.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
You're not sure what to make of it, you think as you arise from another dreamless sleep with a dry mouth. In your head, you are aware that he views you as part of his collection. But it's not truly you he wants. It's your clothes. Yet he does not need to keep providing you with food to keep your robes in his stash. Does he know that?
It makes you feel like a fraud. A garnish with no true sustenance in the grand scheme of the main course. How long will this waiting game last, you wonder.
You cough, and it leaves your chest tight and achy. He gets up suddenly, startling you, moving to grab a golden cauldron of sorts before leaving without another glance. Only to return with it sloshing full of water.
It does nothing but make the guilt in your chest spread like mold.
"Stop it." You wheeze, and he listens. Just a few paces away from where he always leaves you, in his usual sleeping spot. "Stop giving me these things. I'm not what you want."
He looks surprised, if you can even call it that. But all you can focus on is ridding the clothes from your back.
"Enough of this prolonging, just kill me already." You choke on the strangled feeling in your throat, throwing aside your cloak embroidered with blossoms and bunnies. "You were supposed to be done with me days ago, and yet I'm still here."
"It's ridiculous!" The cuffs of your shirt are next, where they're stitched in gold. You yank until they tear.
"This isn't what was promised!" The bottom of your billowing skirt follows, with its golden-trimmed hem.
"I've been nothing but perfect, all this time!" A gold band.
"I've followed every rule, every command!" A ring. Then another.
"And yet for what? What was it all for?! What is my purpose if not this!"
You could spend a millennium screaming, and it would never be enough. Thankfully, your throat stops you before you can get that far. Too dry as it is to produce any more sound.
"Please," you whisper, barely more than a whimper. "Why... Tell me."
Nothing except your heaving, crackled breaths can be heard. Your head swims, and your eyes ache with phantom tears. Your arms shake against the rock while your head hangs between them.
Eventually, when you start to choke on the dryness on your tongue, he moves, approaching.
You close your eyes. Let this be the end of it. Let this tired body finally serve its purpose. Let it happen like you were always told it would. In the dark, at the hands of something greater than you.
He sets down the cauldron; you hear its clang and the subsequent patter of spilt droplets. Then, between one breath and the next, a man speaks.
"I do not have your answers."
Anything you were previously thinking is abruptly cut off as you jerk your head up, eyes flying open.
He's tall, much taller than some of the biggest men from your village. Hair as dark as the rock he stands upon, with pale, flawless skin to contrast. Atop his head are horns, black and spiraled like your beasts'. And much like your beast, he also has wings. Even scales. Black with undertones of purple when the light hits them just right. Gathered over his crotch and hips like a pair of undergarments, but otherwise speckled across his entire body.
He is gorgeous. Terrifyingly so.
"Drink."
While your thoughts swirled with how similar his eyes are to your beasts', the man grabbed a chalice out of one of the beasts' many piles of treasure and filled it with water.
"Wha...? Who—"
"Drink." He commands, pushing the chalice to your lips.
The first touch is your undoing; you guzzle down the entire cup. Or at least try to.
"No," he chides. "Slowly, in small quantities."
You listen, because what else are you to do? He nods, satisfied with your compliance.
"Um," you clear your throat after a chunk of time, watching with pinched brows as he begins picking up and sorting what you threw from your person. "Who are you? How did you get here?"
"What do you mean?" He asks as he regards one of your rings. "I am your supposed promise, am I not?"
Your head throbs for more reasons than just dehydration. "You... cannot be my beast."
"Your beast?" His gaze snaps to yours, sharp with dissent. "I am no one's beast, Child of Man."
"I— I apologize." You stammer as quick as you can, startled by his anger. "I am just... You are a man."
"Never."
"... Then this form is...?"
"Not my true one, merely another."
"... I was not made aware you possessed such an ability."
"Not many humans live to tell the tale."
He's picking through a specific section, seemingly trying to find the best place for one of your bracelets.
"... I do not understand."
"That is to be expected."
There's nothing else you can think to say. Too many thoughts and questions to sort through to pick just one. So, you watch as he painstakingly places every bit of gold you had into what he deems as its rightful place.
All except your cloak, which he picks up, ponders, then lifts his eyes to yours. He closes the distance in steady strides, then kneels down as he drapes the fabric across your bared shoulders.
Immediately, you feel warmer. But whether that's from the heavy linen alone or combined with his proximity, which strangely oozes heat, is up for debate.
"Every single one before you has left."
You blink, confused and still reeling from his closeness, before the context hits.
"They enter my cave, I let them gaze upon me, then they react. Whether they cry, scream, plead, or vomit does not matter. I return to my horde, and they do not follow."
This confession leaves you shaken. Not one of the offerings given has been received. He has been displeased with all of them. But if that were the case, why does the valley still stand? It should've been razed to the ground by now. If the words of the ancestors are true, like they should be, offerings were the peace that tied the valley with the Ruler of the Mountain. Yet, this ruler, kneeling before you in a man's skin, hasn't been taking a single one.
"Except you."
You can't remember if anyone has ever given you such undivided attention.
"You are the only one who dared to follow me."
There is barely any visible expression on his face to glean what he is feeling in this moment. But somewhere in the back of your mind, you imagine him grabbing you by your hips and setting you upon one of his many piles of riches.
"I do not care what your feeble, human mind chooses to believe. The fact of the matter is that you walked in here voluntarily. Thus, you are mine to do with as I please."
He folds the outer edges of your cloak around you, covering your numb limbs in the thick linen.
"You lost your chance to escape the minute I saw you in the light."
His nails are as long as claws, sharpened to a point. Yet he uses them so delicately to push back stray wisps of hair from your vision.
"... What if I need to relieve myself?"
"..."
"Would you have me urinate in your home? Near your horde?"
"You will go outside to take care of yourself. But if you do not return within the hour, I will fly down to the valley and make sure nothing remains."
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
You awaken early the next morning, so much so that the sun has barely begun to shine.
You want to sleep. And keep sleeping, maybe forever if you can help it. But your eyes do not want to shut either.
Thus, you lie awake until the sun can be seen through the opening above. Feeling exhausted and jittery all at once. Dazed and melancholic for no particular reason, yet every single reason.
Eventually, your bladder demands attention. And as much as you don't really want to give it any, you know he will be displeased if you wet yourself like an unruly child.
You stand, bundling your cloak close against the chill over your skin. Curiosity wins out, so you turn to look at the being that has now decided to hold you hostage.
His eye is already open, watching. Back in his draconic form.
"... I need to pee."
He grunts, but doesn't shut it.
When you return, it is with an empty bladder and especially cold fingers. The temperature has taken a dive since you last went out. With the wind being just as unforgiving. Soon, snow will begin to fall.
You didn't think you'd ever see snow again.
Curling up on your side, as tight as you can, you close your eyes. And slowly, eventually, go back to sleep.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
You're cold. It's the first thought churning in your cotton-stuffed mind. You can barely feel your fingers. Your teeth chatter to an almost painful degree.
You flip over to your other side, facing him.
He isn't there. You think you're seeing things at first, considering how fuzzy your mind is with sleep. Better yet, the lack of light for you to see. But even after your eyes take the time to adjust to the night, you don't see even the faintest reflection of his violet-black scales.
Your heart lurches as you sit up. Where could he have gone? To eat? But you didn't hear him like you usually do. Has he left? For good? But his treasure is still here. He wouldn't leave without it, surely.
Before you can panic any further, you hear the whip of the wind. Or rather, the sharp snap of someone cutting through it. Turning your gaze up, you see your answer.
In a split second flaring of his wings, the beast in a man's body hovers above you.
"You are awake," he comments. For a second, you fear that you should not have realized he left. But his expression is blank, like usual. Merely observing you.
He drops suddenly, and you reach out in a rush of adrenaline. He lands on his feet like he didn't just fall from an impressive height. Not even a wince to tell otherwise.
"... It's c-cold," you stutter, feeling the need to explain yourself.
He doesn't say anything at first. You imagine he's taking you in. Your hunched-over form, swaddled in your cloak, gritting your teeth to try and stop their chatter.
"... I see."
You think that's the end of it. Ready to try and resume your fetal position in the hopes of maintaining some warmth, you're interrupted by a lightning-quick spark of light and a rush of wind.
The man has turned back to its true form, with its massive wings and scaled body. He looms over you. Then looms closer still.
You close your eyes instinctually.
It is not what you expected, because you feel the strangest sensation against your back. Like a snake in its musculature, but so much bigger. Then you're being pulled from off the ground, abruptly tugged forward.
Something between a yelp and a gasp leaves your mouth before you're shoved into the hardest wall you've ever been against. Except it's not a wall, it's him. His tail, which pulls away now, had dragged you into the bend of his neck. Leaving you encircled and pressed up against him.
You're not sure what to make of this, and open your mouth to ask as such.
But... oh, he's warm. Borderline hot. You have to move away from any direct contact for fear of giving yourself a burn. He's like a fire. Like the hearth you so loved to sit and nap in front of, consequences be damned.
You realize that he's looking at you, gauging your reaction. Hesitantly, you nod.
He lowers his head at that, securing you in the circle of his long neck.
You stay there, for what other choice has he given you, in a mishmash of thought.
He truly does not intend to do anything with you. This being, a dragon with claws that chip at rock with barely a graze and a jaw that could swallow even the largest of animals whole, wants for nothing but to keep you alive. For how long, you wonder. Will there come a time when he gets truly sick of you? Will you have to wait it out, convince him of your true purpose? Should you even try? What right do you have to speak with a powerful creature such as him like an equal?
Maybe this is your true purpose? To join his horde. Be at the mercy of his whims until you're old and gray.
Your shivering eventually ceases, and steadily your skin begins to warm. But deeper still, in the hollowed-out cavity of your chest, something like hope pushes up through the bed of decay that it was buried under.
As quick as it buds, you stamp it out. Crushing it beneath your heel.
You have no use for that, you remind yourself. Replaying the words of the mistress.
'Remember, child. All your hopes should be buried by the time you stand before him. If not, he will know. And never forgive you.'
Desperately, swallowing around the tightness in your throat, you close your eyes. Until your lids hurt from the force, until your heart stops its insistent beating, until the tiny bloom is nothing more than a faint echo, barely even a memory.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻
if a second part interests anyone, feel free to tell me in the comments :))
syn: your lady Erzsebet was killed, so you venture to revenge her death by killing your ex-lover Adrian Tepes. What you fail to consider are old, bitter feelings of unprocessed heartbreak to peak through your scheme. Through the shared regrets of the failures of your relationship, you come face to face to what you're scared of the most. Love and Adrian Tepes. and u fuck like dogs too but that's beside the point
tags: bdsm, knife play, blood play, hate sex, cunnilingus (male receiving), breeding kink, freaky dynamic, reader has a fear of love, alucard has a rejection fear, sadistic reader, mostly bottom alucard
a/n: PROOFREAD. this was a fun post!! love u whimpering men. also I ended up changing the plot while writing, so the intro might be a little jaded, but over all it should smoothly transition to the new plot.
6.8K WORDS
Alucard, now that he is over three hundred, is attractive in the way observing his every move is a treat, but to be physically intertwined with him is a different story. He is attractive in the way blooming flowers are, how they glisten and glow, having their own aura and status. With eyes brimming towards the future, overcome with prowess. Alucard three hundred years ago had most of his humanity still within him, it's easy to see how the two of you could intertwine. But now he's more vampire than he is human, and how do vampires love? Do vampires truly have soft spots for eachother? And is he worth spending the rest of your eternal life with?
These are the questions that run through your mind as your greedy eyes peered out from the shadows of leaves. You were in Paris, brought along by the sounds of revolution, by the death of your lord Drolta and your precious leader, Erzsebet. And also, by the news that spread about the Alucard stationed in Paris.
You didn't feel you belonged here, not after all this time, not after all the blood spilt your hands. Nothing but crippling anxiety built up in your belly, the bile taste like poison through your vampiric teeth.
You've known Alucard before.
Back when you were human.
The two of you had met on your travels to India. You can easily remember the nights rolling around in silk satin. The warmth of his flesh and fading blonde strands against your bare skin. You remember the ecstasy of presenting your inventions and knowing that somewhere in the crowd lied your partner, Alucard. But you knew him as Adrian Tepes.
You also rememver how quickly all of the bliss went to shit.
You can clearly picture the night when Hindi vampires hailed from the sky. The fear, the trepidation. How your throat logged up, your eyes glossed over in affright.
You remember how Alucard grabbed you by the window of your estate-- but you, too panicked, too terrified, couldnt think straight and fought against him. You didn't listen, more so, couldn't hear him over the buzzing in your ears. So your physically weak body commanded you to fight against him to sit-- just for a moment all you needed was to sit down. Catch your breath.
But, you didn't listen.
Nay, you couldn't hear.
You remember the piercing feeling of--
You winced bitterly. Your hands flew to touch the burnt eclipse symbol on your forehead. Your hands shook, your heart drumming. It was better to stay focused.
But on what? Your mind was racing.
The atmosphere of Paris was lively, the night life was full of partying, as the smell of wine doft around the air. The city was full of glowing lights. You quietly stepped down the stone streets, careful to pull the heavy cloak over your face, and being ever more to hide your fangs.
You traveled down to a bar, following your most primal senses, and finding yourself peering in through the window. There, in the hubub of merry and warm lights, you could see him.
The Alucard.
Your Adrian Tepes.
Your breath fails you.
He's ever the more gorgeous than what he was before. His skin flushed an unnatural white, complimenting to his hair, now completely dull of blonde and bordering delicate sliver. His eyes were soft and doting, as he smiled at the bartender, engaged in a conversation your sharp ears could squander.
It was more so him listening, than saying a word.
You bit your lips, glossy tears brimming your eyes. You should walk in and slay him right now.
Slay him for your master.
Slay him for your h... Heartbreak.
Meekly, pitifully, your hand reached up to stroke the glass, guilt bursting through your body. But even though glass, your hand seemed to sear away from him. Even through glass, his sunshine seemed to burn your moonlit hands. No longer could you walk the day light the way you did before.
You are a creature of the night now. Undeserving to even try for the light.
Forlorn, bitter, and forgotten. Capable of only evil. And that is your reasoning for why you did what you had to do. You did what you had to when Erzsebet chose you. You did what you must, when you bathed in her holy blood.
Alucard has to accept it.
No, he's moved on by now. He doesn't even think of you after all this time.
Yet you could not.
By all law and by all reasoning you should be in there right now, either scorched to death by his paws, or destroying him in yours-- for your dead mistress's sake. But for some reason, now, one hundred years later, your body seems to forsake itself. It and everything you believed in.
Your teeth chattered.
There was too much blood on your hands now.
You could hear the bells of melancholy solitude.
Your fists clenched tightly.
Yea, and must you--
Suddenly, a voice calls out, "I know he's even more daunting in person," a hum trailing after her words. You turn in a shock, your eyes finding a small blonde girl dressed in pink, her hands folded as she stared through the window next to you. Her serious eyes fixated on the Alucard, her lips parted, the faintest air of a flush tinting her pale cheeks.
You swallowed thickly. You spoke, "Why- Yes." Seeing that she was no threat, you simply tugged your hood further. Your gaze averting back to the window.
She continues, "he has this aura. This presence... It brims with..."
"The cry of solitude," you mutter, unable to stop your pitiful hand from touching the glass once more. "Lonely little eyes, lonely stare," you whisper.
Look at you. Begging from your insides for him to turn and look at you.
She cackles, stepping behind you, "Yes, like an abandoned puppy." You suddenly feel magic swelling behind you. But before you can act, the little girl growls, "Move an inch and I'll cut out your throat," she spits.
You freeze on command, your eyes racing back to get a glimpse of her.
She grins, "I'm not stupid. Seriously. Who hangs around in a cloak at night mere days after the slaughter of thousands? Vampires are too predictable... Do you know how many of your kind has staged useless revenge attacks here? I'm not letting you get near Alucard. Ever."
Your eyes redirect themselves to the window, where Alucard parts with the bartender with a gracious smile. Your eyes clench close, savoring the memory behind your eyelids. You speak, your voice barely above a whisper, "If this must be my death, then so be it. For the glory of my lady Erzsebet--"
Yet fate smiles on you.
Before you could finish, you hear that husky, melachonly voice call, "Maria?"
It's slow and smooth, husky and rich.
Just as it was all those years ago.
Your heart caught itself in your throat. You should have never dropped your guard.
As the girl, who you assume is Maria, turns to face him with a zealous fire abrupting out her tongue, you shrink into a bat and take off to the night.
Being the luckier sort, you where able to escape.
Though you didn't dare glance at, him, you could feel the unmistakable burn of his body.
Alucard Tepes.
--
The eve of the next night came around.
Althroughout the morning you told yourself that all of your juvenile feelings would pass. You thought seeing him once would be enough; but your body ached until sunset, not able to even sleep during the day.
You yearned. And swore. It was only bloodlust.
You tossed and turned in the grass of the outskirts of the city, clawing at your chest, twisting and turning, trying to stop the cries that burnt down your cheeks; the wails that accompanied them.
After hours of agonizing.
You decided your pain must be stemming from losing your lady Erzsebet. How she stirs within you.
The guilt.
Of Erzsebet.
Nothing more or less.
"I- I don't know what I am anymore,"
"Let me tell you, please. I can tell you,"
You hissed at the memory, knees weak. He haunts you. Teases you. Regardless of the omen, you took flight into the setting sky.
You found yourself on the balcony of the rooms in the French castle. Your soul seemed to guide you to this particular one.
Longing, yearning.
Hungry.
The windows were open. Curtains lazily flowing in the soft breeze. Your eyes honed in on the white figure, dressed in sleeping attire, latches on the front of his chest barely tied, revealing the delicious skin.
You stood still.
You knew that he could sense you.
But he continued to write, a small candle illuminating his face and letter.
You stepped into the room, shutting the windows and drawing the curtains. The room smelled of him, smelled of aged vanilla and a hint of spiced rum. Your fingers trailed down the fabric of the curtain. It was rough to the touch, no doubt made to block sunlight. Yet still you could hear the wanton scribbles of ink on paper.
You spoke, "I've come to kill you."
Alucard abruptly stopped. He rose his head, slowly turning to lay eyes on you. He blinks once, then twice; his soft lashes lidded over his eyes.
He hushed, "Step into the light."
Intoxicating was the sound of his voice, the breath of his commands.
You obeyed, inching deeply closer. As close as you could without being burned by the radiance of his skin. Which, for you, was right at the edge of where the candle light could meet you.
You watch Alucard's face twinge up.
An expression your body only knew as disappointment.
You were bathed in blood the day you became a vampire. No-- You were addicted to it. Even now, to satisfy your hunger, you drink human blood twice a year. Anything to prevent your previous uncontrollable calamity.
You can't live without it. Even under Drolta's torture.
You slaughtered so many.
Unable to hear Alucard.
Unable to hear Adrian.
You told yourself you needed to find yourself and hid from him. Going to the corners of the world where he wouldn't find you. And then finding yourself worshipping a woman who promised to feed your uncontrollable addiction. To turn the world into an endless night, that you may drink as much as you wanted.
Hell.
You discovered your body had a taste for men's blood over women's. Something adverse to most of the vampire society. It made you feel better. At least you weren't slaughtering the defenseless.
It was only after continuous mental failures that Erzsebet forced you to become clean. She locked you up somewhere in Chukotka, letting permafrost deal with you.
And you came out even more power hungry than how you started.
Yes.
There was countless deaths on your hands.
You weren't misled. Although, yes, a part of you was. But there was an even larger part of you that acted of its own accord. A part of you that you didn't know that you couldn't control. You were fully a vampire, not half.
You want to eat flesh and drink blood.
Not the blood of pigs, or chickens, or cows.
Human men's.
So there you stood with a face of stone, holding a dagger in your right hand.
"Closer. I cannot see you... Come closer," Adrian called.
But you didn't fall to his will this time.
He gulps, breathless. He whispers, "Your hood... At least remove it... May I see the face of the vampire who wishes to kill me."
Truth telling Adrian already knew it was you. He had a feeling when he felt Maria's magic, and seeing the glimpse of your form fluttering away into the night, he knew that whoever it was quite the peculiar vampire.
He promised Maria that he'd go after you, and that she need not to worry. But he knew whoever it was would be back soon. Just. He didn't expect it to be you. Only after hearing your voice did it all make sense.
Truly, this all was a trap, he had his sword floating meters above his head out of sight. And it was aimed right at you.
You obeyed this time, slipping off your hood to reveal your face. His eyes twinge in horror and delight.
Delight, at the nostalgic sight of your beauty. The softness of your face, the sweetness of your eyes, those lips he familiarized all too well with.
And horror, at the almost faded symbol engraved onto your forehead. At the lack of life or passion in your eyes and the deep eyebags that accompanied it. Horror, of how your pretty eyes had turned red- a token of your endless bloodlust.
It was so painfully beautiful to look at.
He knew you were smart, and judging by your eye color, he knew you'd be a difficult vampire to fight. But despite it all, his guard had fell to ashes.
"(Y/n)," he whispered.
"I haven't heard that name in a while... My queen gave me a new one," you spoke. "The person you knew before is dead. And only I remain."
Adrian shakes his head, barking- pleading, "D-Don't do this, you don't want this." He shoots up from his seat, his eyes lost in empathy. A gaze that sears your body worse.
You flinch backward in surprise, but he continued towards you.
You stand your ground, and as his presence draws near, his chest inches away from touching yours, you pull your dagger to rest against his neck.
But he's close, awfully so. His cosmic aura radiating against you, his beautiful luscious hair coating his shoulders, his gaze soft and thoughtful.
You only hardened yours, not allowing a droplet of emotion to slip through, not even for a second.
Adrian swallows thickly, feeling the blade caress his skin for every movement. You were shutting down on him, something he's seen before. He saw it the best the day he tried to save you, and you blindly shut away from him, unable to see the rush of hindi vampires barreling out towards the both of you.
Selfishly, he didn't care about saving that city that day; he only wanted you.
He would've took you so far, he would've cared for you until the end of your days.
He yearned after you for so long.
It was his fault you were swarmed. There were too many to count. Too many to fight.
He didnt mean to leave you in that hoard.
He knew the world still needed him, he couldnt die saving you.
But... He came back for you.
Hell, it was too late.
His eyes weakened, tears brewing up. Adrian weeps, "I deserve it, my love. I've forsaken you- I failed you."
What you didn't expect were those words.
You push him towards the bed as he speaks, forcing him to sit and keeping your blade against his neck as he did so.
"My love," he cries pitifully, his hand weakly grabbing your wrist that held the dagger. "Dying by your hands is befitting. I've lived for too long," he whispers. His beauty glows, shining brighter for every tear.
You push him again, and he lays back onto the bed, gorgeous locks sprawled out. Automatically, he seems to crawl backward, only his feet dangle off the edge. You force yourself on top of him, your hand by his head, the other holding the dagger to his neck, with your knees on either side of him.
Staring at your dead face was worse. He didn't know how to please you. He begs, "Please, my love... Speak to me... My (y/n), my sweet..."
If he failed anyone the most on the world, it was you. You were the frankstein that his mishaps created.
He knew it then, he should have killed you. Spare you of the new life that awaited you. He knew it when you shook in his arms, how you spoke with bloody fangs and an even bloodier chin. He couldn't do it. So selfishly he left you alive.
This was all his fault.
You sliced a small cut on the side of his neck, shallow enough for blood to ooze. He whimpers out, eyes frantically shutting, his knee surging in distress. You dive down, licking a delicious stripe on his neck. His blood is deliciously sweet with a tart, bitter aftertaste. Your free hand cups his neck as you bury your nose into his flesh, fangs threatening to puncture his skin as you slurp and lick.
He groans out, head arched backwards into the plush sheets, hands weakly grabbing fistful of your cloak. In his desperation to grip onto you, the cloak slips off, so his hands spring onto your shirt instead. A trail of delicate whimpers and groans mewl from his pink lips.
You can't take it anymore, and you puncture your fangs into his flesh. He cries out, fistfuls of your shirt growing intense wrinkles. You pull out your fangs and slurp and suck out his crimson. It's ready, as it explodes to meet you. The taste of life and death was in Adrian's blood, your body growing frantic on the taste. Your knees weaken as you hastily sit down on him. Beneath the hilt of your ass, you can feel his achingly hard cock, and your free hand grips his flesh in primal surprise.
He turns slightly, forcing you out of his neck to look at him. It's quite the sight to see you, lips and chin stained with his blood. "(Y/n)... (Y/n)," he's begging pitifully, his face flushed. You don't let him speak for long, as you bury your lips against his, creating sweet music.
The sound of liplocking overtakes the crisp air, as you slurp up his tongue as he feeds it to you. Your hands fall lower onto his body, caressing down his muscular shoulders, your dagger meeting his chest. You break away, slicing another shallow cut on his pale chest.
He groans and arches into the blade. You sink quickly into the taste, licking it up bountifully.
You pull back to admire your work. Adrian lay sprawled beneath you, his gorgeous hair mingling with the white linen, his mouth agape and flushed, your saliva trailing from the corners of it. His neck was sliced and punctured, as the remains of his blood dribbled onto the sheets, staining his hair. He was beautiful.
You softly grind your hips down against his, moaning out quietly, licking the blade as you do so. Adrian cried out, "W-Wait," and grabbed your hips, locking them in place.
You looked at him, and confusion poisoned his features.
"T-Talk to me," he grunts.
Your eyes narrow down on him, "What is it to talk about, Adrian? Our bodies want eachother."
Adrian shuts his eyes close, pain dotting his features. He sputters breathlessly, "I can't do this-- I'm too old... I can't be spontaneous like b--"
You quirk, "You cannot stay up anymore?"
His face brims red, "No! I can-- It's just... (Y/n), I don't want to just sleep with you and forget it-- I loved you... I lo-- care for you... I want you. I don't want to forget you."
Unsettling feeling springs up in your chest. "I'm loyal to no one," you spit. "You killed my master." You pull away from him, dagger still in hand, as you slide off the bed.
Adrian shoots up, rushing after you as you continue toward the window. He captured your hips within seconds, barely dodging the slice you swung as you turned around. He took the opportunity to pull you close, grabbing your wrist and holding your dagger back from another slice.
You groan and struggle like a wild cat. He sinks into your wrist, softly placing a kiss under where his thumb held you. He drug his nose upwards to your palm, where it hit the hilt of the dagger. In surprise, you dropped it, and it landed with a clamor. He follows up your hand until he rests his cheek on your open palm, forcing you to softly carress the skin.
Your breath hitches, that feeling springing up more and more. You try to claw away from it, your free hand to swing at his chest, your foot raising up to kick him uncoordinatedly.
Hurt flashes through Adrian's eyes, but he lets you go. Unexpectedly, you flew back into the closed windows, your heel getting caught on the curtains, making you slip back, falling on your butt to the floor.
In this vulnerable position, Alucard stood above you, hands behind his back, his gown giving away glimpses of his sleek legs. Frantic, your head begins to spin, as your eyes drag back and forth over his body. You whimper out headless sounds as you grab onto the curtain for support. Desperate to gain some sanity.
His smell, his taste, the sight of him.
It wasn't just overcoming lust, but instead this weird feeling from the depths of your brain, crying out. Some sort of emotional response. And emotions were the one thing you sought to control. What Erzsebet saw as a flaw in you.
Listening to your emotions.
Your eyes shut close, freezing up as you tenderly hold onto the curtain. Adrian's quiet, deathly so. You can feel his eyes draw in on you, and somehow it's worse than the fear.
He reaches and opens the window for you, the midnight breeze flying in as the glass door reveals the balcony you entered in from. You eyes pop open, glimpsing out towards the night sky.
Yet you can't bring yourself to leave either.
Your knuckles grow white.
"Leave," you hear him mutter, "You can leave..."
Your head whips to see him, an aura of empathy radiating off his form. All he sees is just another scared vampire.
But he knows if you leave, you might not ever return.
You've got too much of yourself to figure out.
You know that you should leave.
You slowly stand.
His heart burns and he looks off at the floor.
You finally, finally speak, "I-I can't leave... Surely, I'll die." Your heart pounds at the words.
"I'll tell Maria about you," he whispers.
No. He didn't understand. You didn't mean it physically. This was horrifying. Having to explain what you wanted most. Frustrated tears pinged the corners of your eyes, your hands shaking. Stress overcoming your pinched eyebrows.
"Al-- Adrian... Adrian... Adrian," is all you can muster out, a pitiful plea. "Adrian I'll die--"
But before you could finish the sentence, you were involved into a strong embrace. You could hear his cries against your ears as he kept bitterly, your hands weakly holding onto the clothes that hang around his back.
"Stay here-- stay here forever," he yearns.
Your heart bursts. "O-Okay-- Okay Adrian,"
And just as the morning sun peaks in from the clouds, Adrian pulls you back into his dark room, and shuts the door.
You are pulled deeper and deeper into his midnight lair, pulled until your feet crawl against the bed, where he tucks you under with him, encasing you in his arms and in velvet sheets. He seems to swallow you whole, entrapped in his love with nowhere to go. With nothing but fear of rejection lingering him, he braves through it, softly peppering the back of your neck with subtle kisses.
And with nothing but the fear of love in your belly, you brave it, ragdolling and leaving yourself vulnerable to his affections, and also how they make you feel.
Your back is flush against his chest, his legs against the back of yours as he spoons you. He has a strong arm laid on your body. It hooks through your chest and rests his hands on place by your sternum and collarbone. He's holding you there, holding you as he whispers, painful affections and peppers' sweet kisses.
You focus merely on calming your stress, sucking in slow breaths, desperate to process the last hour with him. Its hard to think of anything at all, when you hear his smooth, husky voice calling out your name caressing and kissing you.
You wince and groan out, as his lips dip to the start of your back. His hand releases you to pull at the laces of your shirt, undoing it to reveal more of your back. Your skin is cold, but definitely not uncharacteristic of a vampire.
His large, warm hand caresses the skin, and you arch and sigh out. The warmth drags deliciously slow strokes up and down your sensitive back, his thumb trailing your spine. He reaches and pulls the shirt off one side of your shoulder as he dips into it to kiss it.
You whimper, tension feeling the area.
"I'm sorry for what happened," he whispers.
You try to figure out his intentions by saying that, but the only thing that seems to spring up is genuine care. Tears prick your eyes again. You hate to say there's only one thing your body wants to say. But you have to be vulnerable to let it take over. You wince, and with shaky breath, you spoke, "It wasn't your fault, Adrian..."
His hand slips under your shirt and touches your bare stomach, the warm feeling spreading as he slides up to your ribcage, still kissing at the beginning of your back and neck.
"I failed to protect you, I couldn't help you, I regret it so much," he whispers.
"I ran from you too, Adrian... It wasn't all your fault... I was addicted to human blood... And in the hours you were gone, I already feasted on hundreds with the rest," you whispered. "I wasn't going to give that up... Not even for you."
"But--"
"You were powerless before. You were powerless again... You may be strong, but you can not out number the thousands," you pause, struggling either the next set of words, "Besides... You already fought so hard for me... It was..."
Adrian stops, eyes trailing to you.
"Admirable..." Your tone was fluttering.
He seems satisfied with the answer, as he sinks, unbuckling your belt, and pulling out one side of it. You grunt as his hands slip into your pants, a large hand going to squeeze the warmth of your inner thighs. Despite it all, you still felt an overwhelming sense of peace. He continues to kiss. You lick yours, tasting his sweet, dried blood.
You ask, "Do you want me, Alucard?"
He whines in your ears, "Of course I do." He's like an excitable puppy, just waiting to get off on you. And like a dog, you feel him start to grind against your ass.
A pleased hum escapes you. Within seconds, you transform into a bat, using it to reappear, once again ontop of him. He gasps in surprise, turning over to face you. You grin, caressing his cheek. "Look at my face, you think you can fuck this? Does this not detest you," you lean in with a hiss.
It was your turn to decloth him, as you raised his sleeping gown up higher and higher, revealing more of his pale skin. He's taken aback for a second, his eyes flickering between your ruby red ones and the fading sigil on your forehead. You open your mouth, baring your bloody fangs.
He whimpers, objectively bucking up into your hand.
How pitiful.
You grin sharply, by now his gown was pulled up to his stomach, his unmarked flesh ever so delicious in your eyes. You also took note that he wore no undergarments, his cock half hard as it arose. You sunk down on your knees between his legs, lowering yourself to his dick and laying your hands on his hips.
He grew harder in your stare. You scratched the side of his hip, the faintest dewlet of blood dropping on your finger tip. You brought it up to your mouth, staring deep into his eyes as you licked it away. He groaned, bucking upwards again.
"Ah, ah, ah... Patience, Adrian," you whispered.
He nodded powerlessly, his dewy hair clinging to his neck and face. You bring your lips to his cock, cupping the base of it with both hands, and misting your breath against the sensitive rod. His cockhead pulses towards you lips, you giggle at the sight. Finally, you sink your nose against the side of him, drinking in his scent.
"Oh- fuck," He curses, embarrassment tinting his cheeks. But he can't bring himself to look away. You were enchanting.
You open your mouth all the way, using the front of your fang with your front teeth to drag the smooth side of your teeth against his flesh. He whimpered and cried out, sloppily dropping a heavy hand on your head. You stop just before his head, where you tongue his tip's hole, using the sharper part of your muscle to do so.
He wains, trying his best not to fist your hair for you. Being so good for you.
You turn your head to the side again, sucking the side of his shaft, slurping and swaying against him with your tongue. He was more than hard by now, his dick long and skinny, no shorter than nine monstrous inches, a testament to his vampire side. It was a flushed pale pink, growing red by the second.
You let go of him, and his cock flops back against his stomach with a smack. You laugh, picking him up again with your index finger just to see him fall, again, and again. Adrian doesn't complain, merely, he uses his freehand to grip the sheets beside him, restraining himself all for you.
Once playing with his cock proved enough, you sunk into his balls, burying your nose into him, and ferociously slurping, sucking, and licking him up. He moans out in shock, as you use your hands to stroke his inner thighs comfortably. "Aaah- (y/n)," he seems to stutter out your name. As if a simple plea would make you take him seriously.
You slurp one into your mouth before the other, then you release and drag a long stripe upwards to his cock, and then to his cockhead. You scoop his dick up one last time before finally, finally, guiding him straight into your mouth. You hallow out your cheeks around his length, sucking him, and running your tongue briskly around the bottom of him. You bob your head pacedly to the sound of his wanton moans, using your hands to please what your mouth failed to reach.
Adrian's jaw falls completely slack, his grip tightening in your hair, wanton moans following out of his lips. It had been at least forty years since he had last had sex, the thrills of it burned his pent-up mind. Without thinking, he slowly began to thrust into your warm mouth, sliding himself back and forth against your soft, hot, moist taste buds. You grunt, adjusting your head to accept him better.
He mumbles, "Sorry- Sorry." But its met with an angry stare.
Well. If he's already in trouble, he might as well please himself while he can. His thrusts gain speed, his head hitting the back of your throat.
You wheeze around him, dropping your hands to grip his inner thighs, careful to not squeeze his cock. He takes this small adjustment as an agreement from you as he furthers all nine inches of himself into your deep throat. You can feel him tickle far into your body, a feeling you almost would've forgotten. Only Adrian's ever fucked you like this, and painfully, it sent pleased tingles down your body. Despite how you gagged and choked about him. The sensation was replaceable.
You were vice against him, a sign he was further than where he should, but hell it was exhilarating. His moans grew louder, his head doting back between looking at you and being lost in bliss. His thrusts began to slow as he slipped out of your deep throat, from your mouth, and came right as he slid out of your lips.
You gasped in surprise, as his warmth sprayed your nose, lips, cheeks, some of it dribbling down your chin. You cough, angrily wiping his cum off your face with your forearm. "How considerate of you, Alucard," you grunt, staring at the sticky fluids against your skin.
He merely laughs, "Do forgive me, love." Angrily, you slip off the bed. He calls out, "N-No wait I di--"
"Calm yourself," you hum. You slip out of your clothes, dropping your pants to the floor, sliding out of your boots, and pulling your shirt over your head. Your ruined undergarments fell just as quick. You briskly returned ontop of him, pulling up his gown to his ribcage. You suddenly pause, "Or? Did you not want me to undress?"
How could you say something so cruel when he was only looking at you during that whole process, softly squeezing himself to stay hard, and biting his lip when he saw your bare ass. He's restricting himself for you, can't you see how good he is? All it takes is one pitiful, glossy eyed look from him and you know what he's thinking. "Of course I- By all means, (y/n)," he tries to play it cool.
Your grin worsens. You grab him by the chin, as your freehand lines him up to your hole. Eagerly, you watch as his face constructs, eyebrows pinching forward in delight, sultry eyes staring up at you, lips parted to moan. You kiss your hole against his tip, puckering to seal the deal. He thrusts forward, dipping his head into your honey walls.
You moan, soon, giving all the way in and slipping down on his skinny cock. Your eyes fly to space as you take more and more of him, feeling his cock tickle your gut, until bottoming out. In sync, the two of you moan sharply at the feeling. Your head drops forward in bliss.
"(Y/n)," he sighs, his hands reaching up and guiding your hair away from your face. Last he remembers, you were never put out of commission just by bottoming out on him. Unless, you too were just as pent-up as he was.
You gaze up at him, humming. He becons you closer, so you drop his jaw and pick up your head. He takes the opportunity to kiss your cheek, just beneath your left eye. You giggle, "Aw, how cute."
Immediately you bounced on him, slowly dragging his long cock against your walls. Your head grew heavy again, as you rested your forehead against his collarbone. "Aaah, Adriaan," you hiss, your moans drowning out his whimpers.
You plunge down on his length, feeling him stretch about your gut, and you clench around his cock. That all it takes before Adrian loses it, frantically thrusting and bucking up into you. You cry out in surprise, "A-Adrian," your moan closer to an ecstatic wail.
He's speedy, relentless, his length seeming to make up for his lack of precision. Your body felt completely stuffed. He stimulated parts of you that where never before touched, at least, not by anyone but his cock. His hands gripped chunks of your bare hips, his eyes fucked out and lips spread, his fangs flashing in the disarray.
Your hand leaned forward, resting your palm against the bedframe for support, your head laying next to his by now, ass bounced about adverse to your accord. It was pathetic, as drool dabbled the corners of your lips. "A-Adrien-- Good- Good boy," you mewl, and it only sends him into a worse frenzy.
Through the barrage of frantic, doggish thrusts, your message gets sent straight to Adrian's fangs, a primal urge over taking him. He sits up, stopping for second, to lay his back against the pillow. You dazedly peek up from his neck, but quickly, he starts up thrusting again. Only this time, before you could even moan, he leans down and punctures your shoulder. He doesn't withdraw his teeth to draw blood. No, it's more so to lock you in place. His fangs split your flesh in second, the primal sensation causing you to arch and moan, grabbing chunks of his white locks.
Vampires fuck like dogs.
You reach forward with your free hand and dig your sharp nails into the flesh of his shoulder, drawing blood. Your brain turned off, and your lust fueled off the scent. His thrusts lose all coordination, and if it weren't for his length, he would have slipped out a dozen times by now.
With a deep, whiney voice, he husks, "I-I'm cumming- C-cumming-- I'm cumming," voice interrupted by your skin for every thrust.
"Cum you bastard," you snarl. No way you'd let him have all the fun, as you started to bounce downwards, fucking yourself on him in time with his senseless barrage. It's only through you that his thrust meets some sort of rhythm, as you clean up all his doggish mishaps.
Fuck, you'd be lying to say your climax wasn't rapidly approaching. Hell, it seemed to make you angrier. Next time you'll really fuck him up good.
With a cry, hot semen floods your warm insides, but you can't even look back, as Alucard's fangs trap your shoulder in place. His thrusts stop as he rides out his high, and it only worsens your agenda against him because you haven't even came yet.
"Bastard, have you lost all manners," you ruin his afterglow, as you ferociously fuck down on him again, quick and speedy, replicating it from before. A sadistic glow seems go brim your face, your moans full of delight. Adrian whimpers and whines, overstimulation causing him to buck, squirming away beneath you. Despite it, he doesn't loosen his death grip on your hips, nor does he remove his fangs.
As your moans spiked, he closed his ears to engulf the airy sound of you reaching your orgasm. You cry out, your knees stupidly giving out, bottoming out on him as you exploded. You dropped your head weakly forward, not that it could go anywhere, but still keep your iron grip in his white locks and your nails embbeded in his flesh.
You two were really doing this. Stubborn fucks, mating like vampires and engaging in a childish ritual. Whoever pulls away their fangs or claws first loses power to the other, a primal game as old as time that quickly overrides your natural senses.
Your nails possesively sink deeper into his flesh, unaware of how your red eyes flickered and bloomed a deeper shade. And for the first time in your life, you heard Adrian grunt and growl like a dog, having the upper hand with his teeth embedded in you. His grip on your hips were tight enough to crush and hurt. It only makes your insides flutter around him.
You pull at his locks, forcing his head back. He whimpers, fangs flying out with him, as a fountain of your blood springs out. It's your turn to finally release him, as you lean back, cupping a hand over your wound. You laugh, "Ah-hah..."
Your beautiful crimision leaks down your chest in waves, coating your nipples. He salivates and slaps a hand over himself. "Drink, my love. You've earned it," you mewl. With your freehand you lather yourself in your blood, caressing and squeezing your body as if it were any expensive lotion.
His eyes shut, hips bucking into you. You mewl. He groans, "I have never drank blood. Not once in my three-hundred-years of living."
You blink in surpise. "Aah... Is that why you didn't draw from me." Due to your vampiric healing, the wound closed, leaving only blood to remain. Your hand goes to join the other, as it scoops up a stripe of blood and guides it to your mouth. "It's gooddd," you cackle.
"I know, I can smell it," he grunts.
"Fine," you sadly part with his dick, sliding off the bed and grabbing your cloak from earlier; patting yourself dry. You can hear the bed shift behind you, feel eyes burning against your ass.
"You'll stay, at this castle, won't you?" He asks.
"For as long as I can before that girl comes to kill me," you laugh.
"Then, retreat to my castle."
"The one by the belmont settlement? Surely they'll kill me worse," you roll your eyes.
He grins, stepping out of bed and encasing you in a hug. He burrows his face against you, whispering, "Then I'll have to hide you. You can't leave this very room. M- My pet..."
Your eyelid twitches.
You know he's just trying to rile you up. But still, your fists clench.
"Oh hell, no," you grumble as you shove him back onto the bed.
His hearty laughter fills the air.
You get on top of him, raising meaningless fists (ones that weren't going to hurt him in the first place), that are captured by his hands. He laughs, the sound as pure as sunlight.
It makes your face scrunch playfully, "I am going to get you, I really am. I'll kill you first, Alucard."
He grunts, cupping your ass and tossing you off. You cry, playfully landing on your side. He crawls on top of you, a gorgeous beauty, and he pulls his luxurious white strands back away from his face. "I'd like to see you try," he mutters, but your eyes move to the scar across his chest.
(human!gladiator!)Alucard/Adrian Tepes x (f!slave!)Reader
Ancient Roman AU One-Shot Part 1
Words: 8,256
Synopsis: At base of the looming giant of Mt. Vesuvius, the city of Pompeii bustles to life, unaware of the calamity that awaits. You were a slave in the esteemed House of Batiatus, preparing for the arrival of the grand games to celebrate the Augustalia Festival. But as fate takes its course and the slumbering giant awakens, will you live to see another day or forever be immortalized in the ashen casts of the fallen?
A/N: Oh my god I am so excited to finally share this with you all! This idea has been in my mind for so, so long, and I cannot believe it's finally here. This is my first time in YEARS working on an AU fic, but this premise to me was too delicious not to share. I am a huge lover of ancient history, and the story of Pompeii is no exception. I am initially planning on making this a 3-part one-shot series but depending on how everything goes it may be longer.
This whole premise is heavily inspired by some of my favorite ancient-Roman media (Spartacus, Pompeii (2014) The Wolf Den) etc and will contain some very heavy themes that were common within those mediums.
I hope you all enjoy.
CW: mentions and descriptions of ancient roman slavery in all its forms, period accurate misogyny/violence, discussions of the construct of virginity, first time sexual encounters, mentions of dubcon (dominus/domina and slave interactions with other characters), drinking and drunkenness, explicit sexual themes and language, and more. viewer discretion advised - MDNI
Pompeii, October 79 AD
YOU WERE BORN A SLAVE, as was your mother and her mother's mother. Your ancestors had fallen under the crushingly cruel and unforgiving might of Rome, only to be stolen and sold at market to the highest bidder, the founding patriarch of the House of Batiatus, one of the most power and prestigious families in all of Pompeii. Their wealth and prosperity were built on the backs of slaves and warriors - gladiators - who were trained and molded to fight for them under the guise of eternal honor and glory. For each and every drop of blood that quenched the sands of the arena, their purses grew heavier and their influence expanded into all of the neighboring provinces. It was only within a single generation after the founding of the city that the House of Batiatus became the shining jewel of Pompeii.
You were raised and reared within the sprawling confines of the estate and ludus of House Batiatus, and upon the moment you were weaned from your mother's milk, she was bought and sold to another house in Herculaneum, a gift to a wealthy man's son. You were ripped from her arms as your tiny form wailed and clawed out for her as she was dragged away, never to be seen again. The former matriarch of the house, Cornelia Batiatus, took pity on your stricken form and instructed from that day forth you would be kept close as one of her granddaughter Aurelia's many companions. Though at first you were nothing more than another faceless house slave to the young daughter of Batiatus, your sweet and melodic singing voice awarded you her growing affections and the privileges of a proper education unbefitting to most slaves, earning you the esteemed station as her amicae, her most trusted and loyal attendant.
"I want her to be mine, father! She sings like a bird!" Aurelia chirped, tugging roughly on your arm as she hauled you towards her father Antonius's desk that fateful day. You had barely seen your tenth summer and were still not yet fully accustomed to rules that lower slaves were never seen nor heard, and you made the mistake of humming a gentle tune as you listened to the low drone of Aurelia's music lessons that morning. Her tutor, a pretty and handsome slave called Titus, conducted her lessons that morning in the vast blooming gardens, as was her command. The daughter of Batiatus's own voice floated on the light breeze that caressed your cheek, and against your better judgement you echoed the tune, unable to help yourself. Aurelia had immediately spun on her heels and declared you hers before marching you straight to her father's offices.
Antonius Batiatus was tall and foreboding man, with amber eyes and dark hair that all of his offspring possessed. "My daughter does you an honor, slave," her father smiled down at your meek form, "you will do your best to honor her every whim and wish, yes?"
You didn't dare look up to meet his gaze after having learned the lesson of meeting your betters in the eye only a week prior, the lump on the back of your head still aching with every move you made. "Yes, Dominus."
That very evening you were moved from the cramped slave's courters and into one adjacent from Aurelia's private chambers. It was a far cry from her lavish room filled with expensive silks and expertly crafted furniture, but there between the stone walls and simple fiber rug, you slept on a bed for the very first time. Despite your youth, you knew how precious that simple gift would always be.
As the years flowed by, the stark difference in your status became painfully clear as you and Aurelia stepped into womanhood. Though you were educated, it was not to the same degree of your betters. She and her older brother Felix were groomed and tailored to meet the elevated standards of Roman high society while you existed only ever in the background, a conduit for their entertainment. You sang sonnets and recited poetry upon command, refilled their empty goblets of wine and fed them grapes and dates with delicate hands. You were responsible for Aurelia's upkeep, washing and bathing and dressing her whenever the need arose, massaging scented oils into her smooth and unblemished skin and combing her cascading locks. She would speak in nearly all moments of every day, mainly of the latest gossip that stoked her hunger for speaking lowly of whoever she deemed lesser. You had learned to laugh and smile when her words and innuendo prompted you to do so, even when your heart and soul cried for you to do otherwise. You had made the mistake more than once of underreacting and were always met with the punishing sting of her palm biting across your cheek when you did not behave the way she wished you to.
It was one such morning she sat before you as you gently untangled and styled the mess of her hair. "Did you see what Lucretia wore last night? So utterly tasteless," she giggled cruelly, face scrunching at the memory, "truly, what proper Pompeiian woman would ever dare to wear the same color as I, a daughter of Batiatus!"
You forced a small smile, your hands gently coaxing the ivory comb through her locks as you twisted the tendrils expertly into a cascading updo. "She could not outshine your radiance, Domina."
Aurelia's face brightened as she cackled a laugh, her amber eyes alighting with humor as she stared at you through the looking glass. "Of course not, the ugly wretch! And to think she wishes to be Felix's future wife. Ha! As if father would ever dilute our bloodline with a lesser blood. She's not even a true Roman, you know! She's descended from slaves. How my father stands to do business with hers I will never know."
You dipped your chin, remaining silent as she continued her tirade, your fingers still threading and braiding her hair until you began to weave the glimmering circlet of emerald and gold through her locks.
"As if Felix would fuck her, either. Then again, he does love his whores-"
"Do try and speak like a proper lady lest one day father and mother overhear you, sister."
You froze momentarily before forcing your hands to move once more. You could feel Felix's eyes on you as he sauntered into Aurelia's room, his muscular form adorned in a fine blue and gold tunic, the deep and rich colors accenting his curly dark hair. He leaned against the marble pillar that was a few paces away, eyes shining with humor as he smirked amusedly at Aurelia's rolling eyes.
"You say that as if their opinion matters, brother. As if I do not already know father had her bent over his desk when mother was out to market not only a tenday ago." Aurelia swatted your hands away the moment you applied the finishing touches to her hair, inspecting it closely. With a satisfied hum she nodded before commanding you to start adorning her in the precious necklaces and bracelets that were spread carefully upon the plush cushions that sat atop the vanity.
Felix barked a laugh, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "And how did you come into that knowledge, sister?"
Aurelia shrugged her shoulders, a sly smile tugging at her lips. Her eyes flickered to her brother's form before falling back to her reflection in the looking glass. You held up a pair of emerald and pearl earrings to one ear and ruby and gold drops to the other. With a sharp nod to her right, she picked the emeralds and pearls. "Father always did love rutting into slaves to help him focus on balancing our accounts."
"Not always." Felix muttered, his heavy stare settling over you once again. "But you're right, I wouldn't fuck Lucretia. Not again, at least. Too pouty and whiny that one, as Jupiter is my witness."
You did not outwardly react; however, you could not control the curl of dread that snaked it way up your throat as you fasted the earrings to Aurelia's ears.
"So I've heard." Aurelia laughed mockingly before standing from the vanity, her flowing green and red stola swaying elegantly at the hem with her movements. You bowed your head immediately before stepping back, your eyes trained downcast onto the black and red marble floor. "Should you not be preparing to meet with father and the Senator, brother? He is expected to arrive any moment."
"That's why I'm here. Father sent me to fetch you. The Senator will be joined by his wife, and father asks you to keep her...occupied...while we discuss important matters regarding the upcoming games."
Aurelia muttered under her breath before turning to face her brother. "Why must I? Livia and I were planning to head to market in preparation for the opening games! Where is mother? Why cannot she do it?"
"She's out to market," Felix shrugged before pushing off the column and crossing to the threshold of her room, "which is why, dear sweet baby sister, father has called upon you. Best make haste, lest you earn a tongue-lashing."
~
You stood just behind Aurelia as formal greetings were conducted in the atrium, head bowed with your hands behind your back as your eyes focused intently on the intricate frescos upon the floor. It was a colorful and exquisite depiction of Juno, the vivid white quartz of the stone tiles creating the illusion that her eyes were alive with wanting. The low droning of voices was muffled in your ears before you finally heard Dominus Antonius's voice draw you back to center.
"My dear children, may I present you to Senator Trevor Belmont and his esteemed wife Sypha Belmont."
You watched as Aurelia bowed in greeting before allowing yourself to peer at them from under your lashes for only a moment. The Senator's wife, Sypha, was clad in the most beautiful shade of light blue and silver embroidery you had ever laid eyes upon, the slight swell of her belly barely apparent under her gorgeous stola. Her hair was the most incredible shade of bronze you had ever seen, the short tendrils curling just below her ear while a light blue veil cascaded around the rest of her head and shoulders. Silver and pearl earrings dangled from her ears, glinting brightly in the shining sun that filtered down through the compluvium above. The Senator was just as striking, his tall and broad form adorned in a deep sapphire tunic, his dark brown hair cropped short as was the fashion for proper Roman men. A scar ran down the side of his face, but it did not detract from his gruff handsomeness.
"Salve, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I have heard many great things from your dear father." the Senator extended his arm for Felix to take, the elder son accepting it immediately and grasping his forearm tightly.
"The pleasure is all mine, Senator. You and your wife grace us with your presence." Felix smiled, dark eyes briefly scanning Sypha's face. She inclined her head the most minuscule amount before meeting Aurelia's gaze. The women shared overly kind pleasantries before Dominus Antonius bade everyone further into the villa and towards the triclinium. You followed, silent as shadow, before gracefully crossing to the tables and lifting the clay amphora before promptly serving your masters and their guests rich and foreign wine.
"So, Antonius, it is rumored that the Forgemaster will be your chosen in this year's games," Senator Belmont began, lounging comfortably against the klinai and taking an appreciative sip of wine, "dare I remain hopeful? I saw him fight during last year's Vulcanalia. Blessed by Mars, that one."
Antonius inclined his head, a small chuckle escaping him. "Of course, Senator. I would have it no other way. Hector has been the reigning champion of House Batiatus for nearly a decade, after all."
"My father believes Hector will be crowned the Champion of Pompeii, Senator," Felix snorted, eyebrows raised in barely contained disdain as he extended his cup expectantly behind him. Silently you peeled yourself from your mistress's side to refill it. "While the Forgemaster is a god among common men in the arena, there is another who stands to yet be crowned champion."
Trevor inclined his chin, blue eyes alight in intrigue. "Oh? And who might that be, Felix?"
As you began to return to Aurelia's side, Felix's empty hand shot out to grasp you tightly around the wrist. You stilled; eyes fixated solely on the painted clay vessel within your hands. He sipped deeply from his goblet before extending it to you once more. Wordlessly you filled it when the elder son shared a look with his father, then scurried away before he could reach out for you again. With a nearly indecipherable twitch of his lips, he turned back to the Senator. "The White Wolf, of course."
The air in the room crackled to life as Felix's words settled over you all. The White Wolf - one of the House of Batiatus's newest and most honored gladiators. He hailed from a land far away from the shores of Pompeii, his people defeated and brutalized during one of the numerous campaigns of expansion of the empire. He had arrived at the House of Batiatus with half a dozen kinsmen, a young man barely out of adolescence, hardly older than you. His unusual golden eyes and hair shined as brilliantly as the blistering summer sun above, his skin as pale as unpainted marble. His father, a towering warrior with hair as black as night and eyes that gleamed like rubies always stood beside him, chained with the heavy iron shackles all uninitiated gladiators were condemned with until they earned the brand that marked them otherwise. It was only a year after their arrival to the ludus that father and son would be forced to fight in the arena against one another, the latter emerging marred but victorious and forever changed, forever bearing the weight of what it meant to be a true gladiator, a true pawn in the games. It was that moment his legend and renown began to be catapulted into the collective, his given name chanted and roared through the arena, game after game, victory after victory, until it was known that he was the Forgemaster's only true rival.
Despite his growing infamy, however, the White Wolf mostly kept to himself, his solitude cemented more and more as his kinsmen were slaughtered one by one, witnessed by the roaring crowds of the arena. He barely spoke to his brothers of arms, barely indulged his baser needs as a man when drink and whores flowed between the other gladiators after their victories in the games. Over the years he had caught a number of your curious glances when you accompanied Aurelia onto the balcony that overlooked the vast training grounds of the ludus, and each and every time you ripped your eyes away or feigned business of tending to your mistress. When you would peer back at him, he had always turned his sharp and calculating attentions back onto his training and the barking orders of the doctore.
A loud and resounding chortle escaped the Senator as he tipped the rest the contents within his goblet down his throat. You startled at the sudden sound, pressing your hands tightly into the clay amphora to bring yourself back to center.
"You spoil us with such a prospect, Felix!" Trevor wiped his mouth before lazily stretching his arm and goblet out, beckoning for more refreshment. Another slave stepped forward, filling it promptly. "I have long since dreamed of seeing the White Wolf fight in the arena after his legendary fight against his father!"
"While my son does have a keen eye for potential, my denarii are placed solely on the Foregmaster. But only the gods know for certain." Antonius inclined his head, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "The games are my family's most honored and revered offering to the gods, to the people of Pompeii. Which brings us to the point of our meeting, Senator. You are our most esteemed guest, and it is only befitting for you to choose who will stand in the arena."
Senator Belmont nodded, unable to hide the excitement from flooding his features. "Of course, Antonius." his blue eyes flickered to the carefully neutral face of his wife. "Dearest, why do not leave the talk of politics to us? I'm sure the conversation is rather drab to your delicate ears. Did you know, dear Antonius, that my wife has never seen the marvel of a proper Roman ludus?"
Antonius's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, that cannot remain so! Aurelia, darling, why do you not show the Senator's wife to the balcony? I'm sure it will be quite riveting for all involved."
Auralia smiled, tight-lipped but polite before standing. "Of course, Father. Senator," she bowed gently before turning on her heels and delicately looping her arm through Sypha's. With careful precision you pressed the amphora into another slave's hands before following the two women silently from the triclinium.
~
The air was hot, thick and suffocating as the sun bore down mercilessly from the heavens above. The tiled balcony in which you stood under provided a cooling balm of shade that protected from the sun's harsh rays. Aurelia and Sypha stood leaning against the intricate stone banister as they peered down onto the ludus's training grounds, whetting their drying throats with cooled wine. Nearly twenty gladiators moved in perfect unison as the doctore shouted drilling commands. A thick cloud of dust was kicked up as the warriors maneuvered themselves, their wooden swords twirled expertly in their hands, mere whirls of color as they did so.
"My father only procures the best of the best," Aurelia sighed as her eyes traveled over each and every muscled form that lay beneath her, "aren't they marvelous?"
Sypha's fingers curled around her goblet before she inclined her head. "Yes. I have never seen anything like it."
Aurelia preened at her response before leaning over the banister. "Doctore!"
The towering man froze immediately, his head jerking up to meet his mistress's gaze. His dark skin was coated in a sheen of sweat, the lash in his hand curled tightly in his grasp. His shaved head bowed in Aurela's direction, the ink of his facial tattoos gleaming in the golden light above. With a sharp, barking order, the men halted their movements before standing to attention. "Domina."
Aurelia giggled before peering sidelong to Sypha then returning to his intense attention. "We have an honored guest here today, Isaac. She has never seen the inside of a proper ludus before, nor what true gladiators are capable of."
The doctore's lips curled into a knowing smile, his deep voice echoing out across the training grounds. "Perhaps a demonstration then, Domina?"
"I couldn't agree more, doctore."
Issac inclined his head one final time before turning sharply to face the rows of warriors who stood to attention. "Foregemaster! White Wolf!"
The gladiators immediately dispersed into a large circle, leaving two lone forms in their wake. Even from your position behind your mistress and her esteemed guest, you could still see their striking visages. Hector's cropped hair was a rare shade of grey; his skin kissed by the glow of summer sun. The White Wolf's unusually long golden tendrils were tied back in his usual thick braid down his back, his own marble skin gleaming with sweat.
"We are graced today with your betters!" doctore barked. "Show them what honor it is to fight for the House of Batiatus! Cassius, sparring swords!"
The scrawny form of a young boy ran out from the southern wall bearing two blunted iron blades. Each warrior took their new weapons wordlessly before turning to face where your Domina stood.
Auralia grinned broadly. "Hector, greet our guest, the wife of Senator Belmont."
The Foregmaster stepped forward, inclining his chin in polite and practiced greeting. "Welcome."
Aurelia giggled as she raked her eyes over his muscled form, a small hum of satisfaction escaping her as her attentions slid to the warrior beside him. "You too, White Wolf."
He remained silent as he stepped forward, barely dipping his chin a single inch.
"Have you ever seen such exquisite hair on a man? Let alone a slave?" she breathed a laugh as she peered to Sypha, sipping her wine once more. "At first father desired to have it cut short, as is customary. But the brute nearly killed the barber! He was lashed, of course, but seeing his flowing hair glinting in the sun was too promising to ruin. My father's hunch was right, of course. The people fell in love with it during his first ever games."
"He hails from the provinces?" Sypha inquired, eyes flittering over the golden-haired warrior. "Only the slaves from Germania have that color of hair."
Aurelia shrugged, her eyes drinking in every inch of his towering form and the deep scar that was slashed across his torso. "So, it may seem. Father procured him and his kinsmen half an age ago. Their direct origins were unknown, not that it matters anymore now that the emperor has taken it for himself. To add to the mystery, he has not spoken aloud his name, no matter how many lashes and beatings were wrought upon him. Eventually it became novelty and added to his alure. Not that I care what his name is, especially given he was sculpted by Juno herself and named the White Wolf by my father."
Syha inclined her head. "I see."
Aurelia noticed the strange shift in Sypha's demeanor and was unable to hide the sharpness that narrowed her eyes. "Do my father's best gladiators not amuse you?"
The Senator's wife's eyes tore her gaze from peering down at the awaiting warriors before finding Aurelia's stare. "Oh, forgive me. I believe the wine is fogging my mind more than I thought it would, is all."
Instantly Aurelia's mask slipped back on. "Oh, oh of course! How could I forget you're with child?" your Domina's eyes caught your own before flashing in demand to serve Sypha a goblet of water. You surged forward, doing as you were silently commanded. The young woman graciously took the goblet from your hands, a small 'thank you' leaving her lips so quietly your eyes blinked in shocked bewilderment. Confusion swirled inside of you before you settled yourself just behind her lest she need more.
"Begin, doctore." Aurelia's attentions returned once again to the awaiting warriors as Sypha gingerly sipped from her cup. Your own eyes flickered over Hector as you bowed your head before stilling on molten gold. The White Wolf held your gaze for but a breath before he turned his back towards the balcony and assumed his position.
With a firm nod of his head and crack of his lash, Isaac bid the gladiators to begin. Hector surged forward at once with gods-given skill and precision. The White Wolf parried it easily, and soon the two warriors were dancing around each other like smoke.
"Extraordinary," Sypha marveled, eyes wide as she leaned further against the stone banister. Aurelia hummed in satisfaction; her lip caught between her teeth as she watched with growing amusement as the two handsome warriors fought against one another. Before long, Antonius, Felix, and Trevor found their way onto the balcony as well, coaxed by the commotion of ringing steel and cheering of men. It did not take long for the flowing wine to loosen the men's tongues and minds before an idea for the grand games was struck.
"Senator, instead of choosing one over the other, why do we not allow the gods and fates to decide?" Antonius offered as he eyed his gladiators. "Why do we not have the Foregmaster and White Wolf fight against each other in the arena? The ultimate offering of my best gladiators."
Trevor smiled broadly, his cheeks flush with wine. "What an exc-ccellent idea, Antonius! And so, it shall be so."
《》
AS THE BLISTERING HEAT OF SUMMER exhaled its near final breath, the week before the Augustalia Festival arrived. The House of Batiatus was buzzing with life and crackling energy as you and the hundreds of other slaves prepared for the luxurious banquet that was to be held within the vast villa. While you were spared from working in the agonizing and sweltering heat of the kitchens and gardens, your labor was nearly as arduous. Aurelia toted you around the sprawling markets of the bursting city center, flanked by countless slaves to carry her various purchases and escort you both through the city without worry. She bought bright and rich fabrics imported from the most luxurious shops in Rome, dabbled with perfumed oils and ran her slender fingers through various bits and bobbles that gleamed brightly in the summer sun. When she was finally satisfied that she would be dressed in only the finest of adornments, she turned her cutting attentions to you, her nose scrunched as she took in your plain stola and leather sandals.
"You may be a slave, but you are still my amicae. Come, let us find you something that shows just how much of import you are to me."
As the sun began its slow descent from its zenith, you returned to the villa. The wild torrent of bustling slaves had quelled, and in their stead lavish garlands and tapestries hung from between the towering columns in the atrium. Aurelia dismissed the gaggle of slaves that had followed you both with a sharp flick of her wrist before a cutting whine left her lips about the sheen of sweat that coated her body. You followed after her wordlessly to her private bath, the water from the underground spring warm and emanating curling vapors from its surface. You stripped the fine dressings from her body before helping her submerge into the warm waters, a dramatic sigh escaping her. You bent onto your knees as you began to wash her hair and shoulders, carefully detangling the intricate updo as you did so.
"Father still hasn't told me all of whom will be attending the banquet," she muttered a string of curses, "and mother is useless, of course. I have a feeling she would not know the color the sky if father wasn't by her side to whisper the true answer in her ear." she settled back into the deep stone bath, her head lulling to the side to face you. "Not that it matters, I suppose. Anyone one who is anyone in Pompeii will be there. Do you suppose Quintus will make an appearance? Gods I hope so. That man has such a lovely cock."
Quintus was the elder son of an esteemed military family who had taken residence in Pompeii in the season before. Aurelia and he had met at a dinner party hosted at his family's villa and promptly found themselves within his private chambers, she on her knees and his hands fisted into her hair. You and his own attendant were commanded to stand on the other side of the silk screen in his room in a feigned attempt at privacy, but there was naught to do but listen to the muffled moans that escaped them before they finished.
You peered at her for a mere moment before your eyes focused themselves on the rose-scented soap you began to lather in her hair. "I know not, Domina."
"Is the education my father spent his hard-earned denarii on so utterly worthless you cannot entertain a simple fucking question?!" she snapped.
You bent your head. "Apologies, Domina-"
"Fuck your apologies, you useless whore." she spat, jerking away from you and pushing you roughly away from her. "Sometimes I think my brother has the correct idea after all - that you are good for nothing but for someone to stick their cock into! Gods forbid you answer and obey your Domina! Gods forbid you do your duty and make me happy!" her scream echoed off the stone walls of the private baths, ambers eyes engulfed in fuming fury. She muttered under her breath again before straightening and waving sharply for you to resume tending to washing her. "You should be eternally grateful I care for you as much as I do. My brother wants you for himself, you know. I see how he stares at you. You are no longer a child, and father has bestowed upon me the right to choose who your maidenhead will belong to. Of course, I know he wants it for himself, but you're the gift mother gave to me. He wouldn't hurt me so."
You forced your trembling hands under the warm water to hide them from her cruel eyes before rinsing the soap carefully from her hair.
"But Felix? He is my father's heir. If he wishes to have his way with you, he is well within his rights to do so. He will become the patriarch of the House of Batiatus, and everything that is my father's and my own will become his."
You swallowed the thick lump in your throat. "Yes, Domina."
"Yes, Domina." she mocked you, whipping her head to the side to face you once again. "Is that what you want? For my brother to make you his? Do you care for him more than you care for me?"
"No, Domina."
"It feels as such," she finally turned to face you fully, her hands gripping the edge of the stone bath as her dark eyes peered up at you with swirling emotions you could not place, "promise you're mine, that you will always be my faithful amicae."
Dread and unease rose in your chest like bile, but with practiced ease you pushed it down. "Yes, Domina."
~
The evening of the banquet arrived within the blink of an eye. You spent the majority of the day tending to the desires and whims of Aurelia, making sure she was primed for the arrival of Pompeii's finest. Her body was plucked and pumiced until her skin was raw, only to be soothed by scented chamomile and rose oil that clung to her sweetly. The stola she dawned for the special occasion was the color of purest amethyst, the trim and hem embroidered with shimmering golden thread. You swept her hair into an elegant updo, her dark tendrils held in place by a shining circlet of amethyst and gold, the matching earrings dangling just above her exposed neckline. Her arms were encased in matching bangles, and a polished necklace hung heavily from her neck.
When she primped in the mirror for the final time she turned to you, beckoning another slave girl you knew as Corrina with a sharp flick of her wrist. You were bathed and tended to, sweet and earthy perfumed oils rubbed into your hair and skin before you were being encased by the soft fabric of the garment Aurelia had purchased for you in the days before. It was a simple emerald and gold wrap that clung to your body like second skin, accentuating the curves and shape of you, leaving little to the imagination. A heavy gold hoop was placed around your neck, its intricate details shifting in the nearby candlelight. Corrina then slathered you again in glimmering oil, the millions of flecks of gold catching the light anytime you shifted or moved.
Aurelia stood back and glanced you up and down, a satisfied hum leaving her lips. "Come, then. Father wishes for me to greet our guests upon arrival."
The House of Batiatus was illuminated with hundreds of candles that shifted and undulated with the encroaching shadows of night, the many frescos painted upon the walls seemingly moving with the flame's wavering movements. You stood behind the family of Batiatus as they welcomed the influx of their friends and foes alike, the sweet tune of a flute and hand drum ricochetting off the atrium walls and into the hearts of each and every guest. Platters of fresh fruit and pastries lined the golden and marble tables as wine flowed freely from golden pitchers carried by similarly dressed slaves. Though their garments were the same color as yours, they did not outshine your own glimmering form.
"Carmilla, my dearest, it is so lovely to see you!" Aurelia rushed forward when a slender woman stepped over the threshold, her red and magenta stola catching the light of the nearby flames. Her silver-white hair fell effortlessly down her shoulders, as did the hair chain inlaid with hundreds of tiny rubies upon her head. You recognized her immediately - Carmilla of the House of Vampiratus, the lone widow who had inherited every denarius of her late husband's expansive wealth. She was young and striking, the iciness of her eyes enough to send a shiver down even the most refined of persons.
"Aurelia, darling, it is so good to see you," Carmilla gingerly accepted your mistress's embrace before planting a soft kiss to her cheek, her lips stained with crimson rouge, "how long has it been? Nearly a season?"
Aurelia returned her kiss before looping her arm through Carmilla's own and sauntered to the marble table laden with goblets of wine. She handed the white-haired woman her serving before she took a small sip of her own, a small hum of satisfaction leaving her lips. "Yes, nearly so. Do tell me, how are your sisters? I haven't seen Morana nor Striga since last year's Vulcanalia. Not to mention Lenore has been away in Rome for so long my heart breaks at the mere thought."
Carmilla laughed gently, the sound saccharine and thick as honey. "They are up to no good, I assure you. But they are in high spirits and should be returning to Pompeii before the rains arrive."
Aurelia smiled, and for a moment it seemed genuine until you noticed the tell-tale gleam in her eye. "I eagerly await their return, then. Come, my mother has voiced her wishes to hear all about their exploits."
Your mistress dismissed you with a single shake of her head before turning on her heels and walked away from you. You stared after them for a moment longer before another slave ambled up to you asking for your aid attending to the guests. With a light shake of your head you did as you were bade.
As the sun sank fully below the horizon, the banquet had erupted into full swing. The loud and raucous cacophony of voices and drunken laughter droned mercilessly in your ears as you weaved in and out of the throngs of people that gathered in the atrium and around the impluvium, balancing a golden tray of wine goblets in your hand. You bit back the overwhelm that threatened to overtake you whenever a guest pawed greedily towards you, vying for your affections.
"Most esteemed and honored guests, may I have your attention," Dominus Antonius's voice bellowed out, swiftly silencing the voices that echoed through the atrium. His wife Amellia stood beside him, eyes blown wide with drink and buzzing anticipation. "Tonight, we drink and make merry to honor the late Emperor Agustus," he raised his goblet in perfect time to the cheers and clapping of the banquet-goers, "while tomorrow the House of Batiatus honors Pompeii with blood offerings in the arena!"
The guests erupted in more yells and cheers that made your teeth rattle.
"In preparation and offering to the games, may I present to you the honored gladiators of the House Batiatus!" Dominus Antonius whirled on his heels elegantly, beckoning with his extended hand towards the threshold of the villa. In perfect time, the large iron doors creaked open to reveal the line of warriors who held blazing torches in their hands as they walked in perfect unison towards the wide impluvium that was decorated with wavering candles and aromatic flower petals. Each gladiator stood taller than most of the high-born Pompeiian men, their skin shining brightly with oil beneath the pooling amber light from the sconces and torches in which they held. You couldn't see them fully through the crowd that surged forward, greedily wishing to drink in their fill of the legendary warriors trained within your master's ludus.
"Batiatus! Batiatus! Batiatus!" the gladiators chanted, their deep voices rumbling in your chest as they brandished the torches in time with their words.
"Though these warriors before you are all skilled swordsmen, only two of them hold the honor of being named my chosen. Step forward, Forgemaster, slayer of Alcimedes. Step forward, White Wolf, slayer of Dracula!"
The crowd erupted in loud applause the moment a high-born woman elbowed you sharply out of the way to gain a better vantage point. You sidestepped her enough to escape the brunt of her elbow before you moved around the impluvium as you carefully reoriented yourself to see clearly from your place behind the crowd. Though Hector was completely hidden from view, the White Wolf was not. Your eyes immediately caught onto the bright glimmer of his braided golden hair cascading down his bare back, the large, raised scar dealt by his father in the arena during their fight to the death gleaming with odd brilliance. Sharp gold irises slowly scanned the crowd much to the thrilled, hushed voices of the onlookers before he bent his head towards your shared master in the most miniscule amount, the torch in his left hand never wavering as he kept it still in his extended hold. Your breath hitched at the intensity of his demeanor, and as if he heard the sharp inhale, his eyes settled on you. For a moment time stood still, your own hands still grasping the nearly empty tray of wine, your body frozen in place. His gaze fell an inch lower then dragged back up to your face before he finally tore his eyes away.
"Tomorrow they will fight to the death, spilling their blood in offering to our glorious city and vie for the title of Champion of Pompeii," Antonius continued after another roar of applause, "the one who emerges victorious will be the honored to fight in the final games against the renown Matthias, jewel of Rome! Place your bets, wish your chosen a loving farewell. For tomorrow, one will not be here before you and shall begin their journey across the River Styx!"
More applause and cheers followed until you were able to unshackle yourself from your place before you turned on your heels and walked the circumference of the atrium. The remaining goblets of wine were immediately plucked from the gold tray you bore before you made it back to the serving table, only for your hand to be intercepted by Aurelia's impatient frown. You did not react when she wretched the tray from your hands and thrust it into the arms of another slave before bidding you with a sharp jerk of her head to follow her. You did so wordlessly, eyes once again downcast to the marble floor.
She led you back towards the direction of her brother whose dark eyes were sweeping over Carmilla's form without shame or worry of discovery. The silver-haired woman feigned not to notice his hungry gaze as her eyes roamed over the broad and sculpted form of the White Wolf himself, her head tilted to the side as a long, slender finger ran down the length of his expansive scar. He did not move an inch as he stood upon the elevated stone, back-to-back with his brothers who were also being studied and pawed at under the same level of scrutiny by Pompeiian high society.
"Three thousand denarius on the Wolf emerging victorious," she purred, icy eyes finding the sharp marble of his face, "and twice as much if he kills the Forgemaster with his bare hands."
Felix chuckled from beside her, eying the very same gladiator with amusement. "I accept those terms."
"Hmm," her hand traveled lower, still tracing the edge of his scar before her fingers brushed over the worn leather of his pteruges, "how many denarii for a more...private inspection?"
You could not help the coiled dread that curled in your chest as you dared to peer up at him from under your lashes. His towering form still did not move an inch as Carmilla continued to toy with the hem of his garment; his eyes trained on a distant mark unseen by you.
"Careful, Carmilla. Lest word gets out you wish to fuck a gladiator," Felix mused quietly, his words only audible to his sister and friend.
"As if your cock doesn't harden at the thought of it, Felix."
The two women giggled to themselves before your mistress leaned in closer to her companion. "Ten thousand denarii is enough for even the most thorough of inspections," Aurelia's amber eyes found the icy chips of Carmilla's, "but for a dear friend, it is no charge at all and would be my pleasure. After the main festivities of the night, of course."
Carmilla hummed before her lips parted into a pleased smile. "You are too kind, Aurelia darling."
"Anything for a friend," she finally turned to you, as if suddenly remembering you were there at all, "you know what to prepare when the time comes, yes?"
"Yes, Domina."
"Good," her eyes flickered to the Wolf's heated stare, which now bore searingly into your mistress's eyes. Aurelia purred when she saw it. "We will be seeing you later this evening, White Wolf." her hand graced over the thick cord of his muscled chest before turning away, leading Carmilla and Felix towards the beckoning cry of their mother.
You did not dare to look up at him again as you saw the tight coiling of his fist at his sides and promptly followed after them. The festivities wore on well into the deepest depths of night, until only a select few remained. The Senator Belmont and his wife had had clung closely to Dominus Antonius and Domina Amelia, speaking in droned tones about the politics and dramas of the capital. Felix and Aurelia had settled into the triclinium with Carmilla and Quintus, who had arrived when the stars began to blink down from the heavens. Their words were messy and slurred with drink, their laughter sharp and shrill as they spoke at the expanse of their lessers. It wasn't until Carmilla draped herself over Felix's lap and Aurelia situated herself onto Quintus did your mistress's eyes find the eyes of Corrina the moment Quintus's lips found the hollow of her neck. "Fetch the Wolf," she breathed with a sharp flick of her wrist, "and bring him to my private baths."
Corrina bowed, her straw-colored hair glinting in the low light of the sconces. "Yes Domina."
Aurelia's eyes slid to you, equally dismissive. "Go and prepare him."
"Yes Domina."
~
You stood still; eyes towards the tiled floor as Corinna led the Wolf into the private baths. She left without a single word or glance in your direction, either unknowing or uncaring for the unease that settled inside of you. He faced you, unmoving, hot molten stare crushing into the marrow of your bones.
"You are Domina Aurelia's amicae, are you not?"
The sound of his deep and rich voice snapped your attention from the glittering tiles to meet his gaze. "I am."
"Hmm," he turned from you before beginning to undo the ties and buckles of his pturges, the leather garment falling from his hips as he pulled it down with a single tug. It fell uselessly to the floor, exposing the muscled and sculpted backside of his body. Your face heated at the sight before you turned your cheek, eyes staring intently on the fresco of Juno upon the wall. You heard the water trickle and shift as he descended into the pool before he stilled on the other side of the stone bath, too far for you to reach. Your eyes found his own again, a small frown forming on your face at his distance.
"I cannot reach to wash you," you murmured, crossing to kneel at the front edge of the pool, "Domina instructs I do so. She sits here to allow me access."
"I suppose you'll just have to join me, then." he craned his head back, stretching the taut muscles of his neck, his braid nearly saturated with water. "The water is warmer here."
You scoffed, unable to help yourself. "Join you?"
Slowly he rounded his head to face forward, an amused glint in his eye. "Yes. That is, if you wish to follow the orders of your Domina."
You swallowed thickly before shaking your head. "I cannot."
The Wolf regarded you for a moment, his gold eyes slowly scanning your face and down to the curve of the emerald and gold wrappings that adorned your body. "I suppose you're right. Wouldn't want to ruin your pretty dress."
With slow and controlled movements, he stood, the steaming waters reaching just above the sharp lines that led down into his groin. Your eyes never left his own as he drew closer before turning his broad back to face you. You remained silent as your hands began to deftly unravel his long hair from its braid, rinsing it with water and nourishing oils.
"You sing, do you not?" he questioned lowly as you began to rinse his hair once more.
"Only when Domina wishes for me to."
He remained silent before turning to face you, his large and calloused hand grasping yours before he took the soap from your hold. You stilled; eyebrows knit in confusion before meeting his eyes.
"Do you believe I will be victorious in tomorrow's games?"
Your eyes widened in surprise at his forthcoming inquiry. "I do not have the sight of the gods."
"I did not ask for the beliefs of the gods, I asked after your own." he dipped his chin, a small frown etching itself on his lips. You continued to stare at him, your eyes tracing over every detail of his exquisite face. How water droplets clung to his long lashes, the perfect bow of his pink lips. The way his cascading crown of gold darkened from the bath, the steam that tumbled upwards from the heated waters causing a lone curl to cling to his forehead.
"I hold no love nor favor for the games," you answered quietly, "I take no pleasure in watching men die."
The golden-haired warrior's eyes narrowed. "Does your mistress know that?"
You couldn't help the small flinch of your body. "Domina favors the games. Her beliefs become my own when she is near."
"I see." he stared at you for a moment longer before gently pressing the soap back into your hands. "I hope you will grow to believe that I will emerge victorious. And perhaps in the wake of my victory, you will sing a song in my honor."
You did not respond. Before long he had been bathed to the standard in which you knew Domina Aurelia preferred until he stood from the pool. You turned as he did so, eyes landing on the fluttering form of Corrina returning with a fresh wrapping for his waist. Your stomach dropped when you noticed it was in a similar shade of green as your own before you bade him to follow you into Aurelia's empty chambers.
The loud laughter and slurred jeering could barely be heard down the winding halls of the estate as a thick silence stretched between you as your hands slowly slathered his chest with aromatic oils, the scent of cedar and musk filling your senses. His hair was pulled away from his angular face as you worked, golden eyes staring emptily around your Domina's lavish room.
"Am I expected to fuck the silver-haired witch in front of them all?"
Your eyes snapped up to him, a grimace contorting your face. "No. You are to let them...inspect you."
"Inspect?" he chuckled darkly at the back of his throat. "Romans have the strangest of traditions."
A flare of curiosity bloomed in your chest. "Is it so different in your homeland?"
The towering gladiator shifted imperceptibly as your palm grazed over the large muscle of his upper arm. "Very."
"How so?" the words left your lips before you could stop them, at once breaking the silent pact between slaves: to never, ever speak of ones homeland, as that life was gone, never to be retrned to again.
"Careful," he murmured, teasing, "I have killed lesser men for inquiring less."
You pulled yourself to your full height, your heart thrashing wildly against your ribs. "Apologies."
He rolled his shoulders before pushing your hand away, but not before brushing his fingers a breath above your own. You stepped backwards, allowing him berth as he crossed over to the windows that overlooked the eastern gardens.
"There is no need for apologies, woman. You did not offend." he ran a pale hand through his hair before turning to face you once again, his skin bathed in the low amber light of the candleflames nearby. "The hour grows late, and I wish to turn in for the night. Tell your Domina I am ready."
You bit your tongue before nodding once and turning on your heels. Just as your hand brushed the iron handle of the door you turned your cheek, still feeling his molten stare at your back.
"May Fortuna guide you tomorrow." you met his eyes for one final time before pulling the door open and crossing the threshold. He did not have a chance to respond before you were completely obscured from view as the wooden door settled shut, leaving him alone in the plunging silence left in your wake.
summary - malleus watches over the dreams of those he’s blessed, finding yours to be unexpected, but fondly amusing
warnings - I feel like malleus sort of treats mortals with an inherit disdain or infantilization and I fear we don’t write that enough, so be ready for him to compare humans to a child and a bug ig.
A/n my description of malleus using his unique magic is kinda hc, as it’s never described how he uses it while outside of the dreams, only inside of them. So I kinda came up with a solution
You were his dear friend, how could he not? Ever since you two met, you’ve been nothing but kind to him, nothing but good and gentle and sweet. You invited him to the SDC, you gave him gifts and spoke to him often- you even proposed joining the gargoyle studies club!
In such a short amount of time, you’d already given him so much…so what kind of friend would he be if he didn’t reciprocate? That’s what he was doing now after all, as he set his magic over sages island- he would repay you with eternity, with dreams, with anything and everything your precious mortal heart could desire. It was the very least he could do.
He continued to hum quietly as he drifted around the diasomnia lounge, eyes drifting over the bodies curled peacefully in sleep on the floor. It would be overwhelming to see every dream all at once, so he merely drifted between them- he would simply lock his sharp green eyes on a resting soul as they slept, and he would focus on their dream. It was the easiest way to go about it- like focusing a camera lense on tiny little ants individually as they crawled about.
“I wonder…”
he murmured to himself, strolling slowly in the silence and thorns. His eyes landed on Kingscholar, who’s dreams of royal succession and ascending the throne earned an almost fond chuckle from the dragon. His eyes turned to the more extroverted Leech twin, and he stared blankly for a moment before humming thoughtfully with a puzzled expression and moving on.
His eyes turned to Lilia, his brow quirking in frustration at the seeming static of the dream. He’d done all this for the old bat, and yet he couldn’t seem to glimpse his dream. How peculiar. He let out a huff, deciding to check on his dear guardian later.
He wandered between corpses for a while, enjoying the silent company of their soft breaths as they basked in the eternity he’d blessed them with. Such precious little creatures, he’d grown quite fond of them. But now, his eyes had turned to someone who earned a slight upturning of his lips as he approached. You, with grim tucked at your side, hair sprawled and messy, expression most peaceful. He tilted his head, humming as he looked into Grims dream, which- to keep it short- contained much tuna and winning fights.
“I wonder…”
He repeated again, eyes slowly turning to your shut ones. The great king of darkness, enemy of the world, sank to his knees, tracing a pale clawed hand through your hair, fixing it for you. He was careful to ensure no blot touched your precious skin, that no pain would ever carve itself behind your soft fluttering eyelids as you dreamed
“What do you dream of, my dearest child of man?”
he murmured, fond eyes tracing your features. Because you were no ordinary mortal, not to him. Compared to all the other little creatures in the room, you by far were the most fascinating. The one he cherished to even the same extent he cherished Silver, Lilia and Sebek.
Yes, in your short time here, you'd carved quite the place into his heart. Surely he would never forget you, especially now. The stars would fade and change, the world would rest and shift, but now you would be close through it all, not drowning in the bitter loneliness of eternity, but embraced in it by the blessings of the dreams he bestowed upon you.
So with warm fondness and a gentle stroke of your cheek, he gazed with those bright green eyes into your eternal dream…
»—>
In your dream he awoke, blinking in dim stormy daylight. He recognized his surroundings immediately- his room in Diasomnia. He smirked, slightly smug as he realized your dream took place not in your world, but his. Surely if you were awake to understand the situation, you’d understand now how foolish it would be to return to your home world when you were clearly more content here in tw-
He blinked. Once. Twice. He’d noticed something as he shifted that he hadn’t before for some reason. A weight, a warmth, a scent. Maybe it was because he'd only just entered the dream that it took a moment to adjust, to realize there was something on top of him. He looked down, those bright green eyes that had been so knowing and smug just a moment ago, now widening imperceptibly as he saw you there curled up on his chest, your limbs tangled in his, your breath soft against his heartbeat like you were breathing the very life into him.
what a peculiar situation. It seemed your perfect dream…was cuddling with him.
After the initial shock he couldn’t help but chuckle, amused by your childish affection more than anything. Your soft fingers clutched his shirt so tenderly, your lashes fluttered so adorably as they fluttered open. How could he not find this entire thing to be entertaining?
His friend, his dear child of man, harboring feelings for him? No one had ever had affections like that for him, and if they did, they did not show it. And yet as you woke up, as the dream set in, as the scene was set and your weak mortal mind went immediately along with it, you propped yourself on your elbows and looked up at him with such a loving smile, and kissed his smiling lips so fondly.
Of course he’d go along with it, if it meant your perfect dream would be, well…perfect. Even as his lips tingled from that kiss, and all the ones after as you both murmured sweet words in the morning light. Yes, he’d act the part for you, it was the least he could do for his dear child of man.
»—>
“Oh you sweet thing…”
He murmured in the echoing silence of the diasomnia lounge as he lifted your warm corpse into his arms, tucking you close as he traced his long fingers delicately through your hair, his smile and voice impeccably fond
“That is quite the dream you have, I must admit I am honored to be so important to you…”
His eyes flickered as he spoke, his words unreplied to, unheard in your slumber. In your dreams, he was cuddling you in the early morning hours. In reality, he was holding a corpse…
“No, no not a corpse” he said to himself, pressing his forehead to yours, smiling faintly as blot traces down his cheek, a testament to his current mania.
“You are no corpse to me…to call you such a thing would be a sin. No…you are a sleeping beauty, a beautiful rose in my garden to be tended to…perhaps my favorite one”
He muttered, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth as he lifted you, humming a tune he’d heard long ago as he danced around the silent hall with your slumbering body. His sweet, dear child of man, dreaming of true love of all things...
I'm sorry Im so nosy what Leona art is it? I love that man and I must know.
it was one of him from the back (with Cheka playing with his tail) and, honestly, I get it? because if you're not familiar with the character and you only see him from the back, especially in a more simplified style, your natural assumption would be. well. this is a furryman. (and genuinely it's totally fine, all the comments have been extremely nice and it's always very flattering when people outside the fandom can still appreciate my art! I'm just like...I'm so sorry, he's actually an anime catboy who just happens to be indistinguishable at certain angles, I have accidentally deceived you --)
Omg hiii, I've been looking forward to your request opening omg, is it fine if i request a timeskip au (oneshot) with Malleus x female reader and they already have a son(Who is still a baby) The day his son's birthday Mal gets called to a meeting so hes a little pissed off by that but reader insisted he goes but he also brings his son bc hes kinda clingy(is that a dragon thing) but when the meeting started the senates just ask if it was necessary to bring the heir over and don't even address his son properly. Sorry if it's too specific, it's my first time requesting in your blog😭
【❝The Prince’s Big Day❞】
【Synopsis: In which Malleus finds himself convening with the Briar Valley Senate with his heir in tow】
【Featuring: Malleus Draconia】
【Tags: timeskip (takes place some times after Malleus has graduated from NRC and ascended the throne), fem reader, King Malleus, established relationship (husband and wife), very cute and fluffy, a little bit of crack, father of the century Malleus, Briar Valley Senate slander (fuck those guys lol), baby Draconia shenanigans, possible typos, uhh that’s it, let me know if I missed any tags】
【Word count: 1k】
【a/n: hii anon! Tysm for the request — it wasn’t too detailed and gave me plenty to work with when writing! I took a lot inspo from a scene in House of the Dragon season 2 where the recently crowned King Aegon (second of his name) brings his young son to a council meeting and chaos ensues. Now that I think about it, the Draconia family is kinda similar to the Targaryens — minus all the intermarrying and stuff lol! Anyway, I had so much fun writing this and I hope you enjoy it too! :3】
Your poor little son has been throwing a fit from the moment he awoke in his crib. Try as you might, nothing would get your sweet boy to cease his seemingly endless cries. Well, except for your husband, that is.
You see, Maleavar is truly his father's son in every sense of the phrase. Despite being the one who birthed him into this world, your son has always preferred his father to you. It doesn't help that the young prince is practically a carbon copy of your husband. It's like your genetics didn't even try. Oh well, hopefully your next child will favor you instead.
"What causes you so much distress, my son? Today is the day of your birth, you should be happy, should you not? The whole realm smiles on your behalf, yet cry in spite of their jubilation. How strange." Malleus always had a habit of speaking to your son as though the now two-year-old boy could understand his every world. Maleavar doesn't seem to mind though. In fact, he quite likes that sound of his father's voice.
"I fear our boy won't be able to answer your questions, husband. He can't speak yet, remember?"
"Ah, yes. What a shame that is. I'm sure he'll have such wonderful things to say once he's finally able to articulate himself. Won't you, sweet boy?"
Malaevar can only coo and gurgle in response, but that's enough for Malleus to consider it an affirmative answer. He looks at you with a glimmer in his eyes — the very same ones your dear son inherited from him — as if to say; 'See? He does understand me!'
Unfortunately, the moment is cut short by a knock on your chamber door. You figure it's one of the servants coming around to confirm the plans for today's celebration with you, but the news you're given couldn't be further from what you expected.
"You mean to tell me that these old, tottering fools would dare to come to me on the day of my son's birth and have me to convene with them? What business do they have with me that they deem important enough to tear me away from my family on today of all days?" Malleus' thinly veiled anger only seems to entertain Maleavar, who seems positively delighted by his father's wrath as he giggles and coos in his arms. The young Draconia finds joy in everything his father does — even his anger at those absolutely dreadful Senators.
"T-they did not say exactly, your grace. They only said that the matter is urgent and that your presence is required at council."
"Just go, Malleus. The sooner you deal with the Senate, the faster we can be rid of them."
"You're right, of course, my love. Fine, I shall go through with this dreaded council if it means I shall be free to spend the rest of the day in the presence of those I actually love and respect."
Malleus moves to pass little Malaevar off to you, only for the boy to start wailing and crying at the mere notion of leaving the comfort of his father's arms. Your husband merely sighs and cradles the little prince closer, offering you a quick kiss before taking off to address the Senate with his beloved son in his arms. Well, you can only imagine how that meeting is going to turn out.
"Was it truly necessary to bring the boy to the council, your grace?"
"This boy is my heir and the future King of Briar Valley — you would do well to remember that, Senator. You will refer to Prince Malaevar with the respect his station demands, or you will not refer to him at all. Is that understood?"
"Yes, your grace."
"That's what I thought. Isn't that right, son?"
Of course, the boy babbles and claps his hands together as though saying 'Yes, father! Put those mean old fools in their place!' — well, at least that's how Malleus interprets it.
The Senators might as well not even be present with the way Malleus chooses to just outright ignore them in favor of playing with Malaevar. The 'very urgent matter' they'd called him here to discuss is really just some trivial issue regarding taxes or something just as dull.
Malaevar is just as bored as poor Malleus is. In fact, the little prince was so bored out of his mind that he starts throwing whatever he could get his grubby hands on at the very senators that were giving both him and his father so much grief. Surprisingly, the boy has quite the arm on him, but his aim could use a bit of work.
Malleus, of course, makes no move to stop his son from terrorizing the Senate. To be honest, he'd quite like to throw a few things at them himself, but that wouldn't be very kingly of him, so he'll let Malaevar have all the fun instead.
"Are you listening, your grace?"
"In truth, no. This is quite the elaborate waste of my time and I do not appreciate having my attention pulled away from my family on such an important day. I've heard enough. The matter can wait until my son's birth has been properly celebrated. Until then, this council is adjourned."
With that, Malleus simply gets up and leaves.
"That was terribly dreadful, wasn't it, son? Oh, I do not envy the day you ascend the throne and find yourself stuck dealing with that insufferable lot. It's truly a fate it would not wish upon my worst enemy, let alone you, my dear boy."
Malaevar responds with his indecipherable babble, but to Malleus it sounds like; 'Those mean old fools have no respect! I'll show them not to mess with me when I become king!'
"Of course, son. You'll grow to be as fearsome as the thorn fairy herslelf — I have no doubt. Those imbiciles will regret getting on your bad side, but you must bide your time for now. Worry not, dear boy, I'll teach you to deal with that terrible lot when the time comes, but for now, let us return to your mother. I'm sure she'd love to hear all about the mischief you got up to today."
For now, the father and son's schemes to overthrow the Briar Valley Senate come to a halt. Celebrations are in order and Malleus isn't going to let those boring old Senators ruin his son's big day.
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