I know I'll sound like a tinhatter saying this, but I find it very telling that Gregor's instinctive lie/cover story for Beta was that she's his wife, when daughter or niece would have been just as believable.
And more natural for a man interacting with a girl who is a clone of his past lover and who he's trying to claim a father-daughterly relationship with. (He's 287 years old. She's 24. Who, accompanying someone so much younger that they supposedly see as their child, thinks "Ahh yes, husband and wife. That's the most appropriate dynamic between us for people to see and believe. Let's perform that.")
I think there's unreliable narration going on. Like Gregor is in denial about seeing Beta as separate from original!Bequin, or Beta herself is in denial or vastly misreading the situation when she claims he doesn't see her as a replacement for original!Bequin and instead he's like a father to her. Maybe *she* wants him to be like a father to her, but he can't see her like a daughter.
I think it's possible the author deliberately went for that complex/grey/unreliable/ambiguous vibe.
I'm pleased as punch with the result--it's way more problematic and psychologically complex if there's father-daughter relationship undertones and he's haunted by an inability to distinguish her from the original and they both know it's a bad idea and struggle to avoid giving into any romantic/sexual chemistry. And if she really does just see him as a father figure but later gives into turning the relationship into something romantic+sexual because she wants to be with him, on whatever terms she can.
And maybe he did want to keep them as father/daughter in dynamic but he loathes the idea of her being with anyone, he can't stand it (maybe even in a traditional protective father way, but that *always* has weird Freudian undertones. After all, he seemed extremely repulsed/bothered by reading the thoughts of that guy that was lusting over Beta.) so he takes up with her himself to be the lover she needs and keep all the unworthy scum away. And that comes with its own guilt <3
Or maybe reading those perverted thoughts/fantasies about Beta woke something up in him. Or all of the above.
That's way better than if the narrative had just gone "oh goody we brought his love interest back as a clone and she's basically the original and there's nothing weird about them getting back together". Let it be weird, and fucked up, and sad and hot.
Third character is now done as well :D
I haven't drawn women for such a long time and it shows... So thank you to @sjokoladekjeksen for suggesting Beta Bequin to me :) And apologies if I didn't do her justice^^'
As for the other two, this was a quick drawing :)
Please note that all slots have been filled by now and you can check out who is next by looking in the first 6 comments of the original post HERE
Summary: Beta Bequin falls, and is caught. Comus is lost, then found. Two pariahs, haunted and hunted, find solace and companionship in each other.
Or, more accurately: The relationship these two characters have in the Bequin novels is so tender, this basically wrote itself. Hurt/comfort and romance, very gentle as this is what these two deserve.
Relationship: Beta Bequin/Comus Nocturnus
Warnings: Blood Angel typical things, nothing beyond that
Note: Since these books are not well known afaik, I have included a brief, mostly non spoilery dramatis personae at the end, though this fic has little plot beyond the relationship development and shouldn't require much context.
I could distinctly remember thinking my experience of flying with an angel would not be a recurring event. Wishing for it, in fact. The few seconds of being airborne with no shuttle nor ship around me had been, while exhilarating in their own way, ultimately too terrifying by half to be worth repeating. Comus could keep the sky, I had thought- I would remain where I belonged, on the ground amongst my fellow mortals, and hold few regrets for it.
As was quickly becoming unnervingly common, I would come to feel differently soon enough.
When my body hit the railing with an agonizing clang, I had about a second's worth of time to be grateful it didn't give in under my weight. I moved to rise, putting my weight against the rusting metal, and was quickly proven wrong. With a splintering crack, the aged construction broke, shattering into sharp, cutting shrapnel, and then I was falling.
I tried to catch myself on something, anything, but to no avail. I was already unbalanced and weak to boot, gasping for the breath that had been kicked out of my lungs. The ledge I was on fell away as wind whipped past me, its wail mixing with my own scream as my body plummeted down.
Time didn't so much as slow down as my thoughts sped up; the instinct of a trapped animal seeking a way out of its own death. But there was nothing. Between me and the ground was only fifty floors' worth of air. This is going to be a long way down, I thought, so terrified it cycled back to a hollow sort of calm. There was nothing I could do to save myself.
It was lucky, then, that I didn't have to.
A few heart-stopping moments into my fall, something hit me from the side, jarring every bone in my body. It hurt, what little breath I had in my lungs leaving me with a wordless wheeze- but against all odds, I was alive. Alive and flying.
Once I managed regain my wits, gasping in lungfuls of precious air, I took stock of my situation. I was pressed against an inhumanly warm chest, brilliantly white feathers slicing through the dark on either side of me as Comus - for it could be no one else - banked, breaking our fall one mighty wing beat at a time.
I may have tried to wheeze out a few words, or perhaps a question, but the rushing wind stole all sounds from my lips. Giving up, I instead settled for wrapping my trembling arms around Comus' neck as tight as I could, trying not to move much in his grip. He was holding me awkwardly, having caught me at an uncomfortable angle, but given the situation, he could have held me upside down for all I cared- just as long as he did not drop me. And indeed he didn't, pivoting around in the air and turning our gentle drop into a rise, the peculiar musculature of his chest shifting with each powerful motion.
By the time we crested that same platform I had fallen off of, the last of our enemies had been dealt with. Renner's shocked face greeted me as Comus landed amongst the corpses of our foes, the curst's mouth moving with words I could not distinguish over the rushing in my ears.
Overwhelmed for a moment by my oh-so-close brush with death, I closed my eyes, and focused on simply breathing.
The arms holding me shifted, a rustle of feathers accompanying the movement. "Beta?" Comus asked, and when I gathered the strength to look up at him, it was to find a small, concerned frown twisting his lips. "Are you well?"
"I-" I started, then realized I was still clinging to the angel's chest and quickly released him. He put me down, then held out his arm for me as I stumbled on still unsteady legs, his frown deepening. "Thank you, I am unharmed," I said once the world slowed its spinning, "simply… unsettled."
The angel's head cocked to the side. "You have said you do not enjoy my way of flight, before."
"Yes. Or, no, ah-" I swallowed, then steadied myself, letting go of Comus' arm and standing on my own. Beside me, Renner's eyes jumped between me and the angel, but he kept his silence for the moment. "It was mainly the fall that troubled me this time. I would have died without your help." And speaking of… "How did you know to come for me?"
Comus blinked slowly. "You called," he said simply, then held up my right hand in response to my confused look.
When I looked down at it, I was surprised to find it bleeding. Not too badly, but enough to slowly drip, a small, sharp piece of metal still jutting out of my palm. I must have cut myself on the railing when it broke, and as he had many times before, the angel had to have taken the smell of my blood as a signal.
That little wound saved my life. It stung, now that I was aware of it, and it would need thorough cleaning, but I couldn't help but be grateful for that particular accident.
I did not quite feel up to explaining the unintentional nature of the injury, so instead I turned to smile up at him in gratitude. Then I winced a little. "Ah, you have-" I pointed at his arm. A thin line of blood trailed down to his wrist from where my hand had rested only moments ago. In the low, flickering light of this ancient building, I could see smears of red along his chest and shoulders as well, further evidence of my frightened scrabbling to hold on. "I seem to have gotten some blood on you."
Comus' gaze followed the trajectory of my finger, coming to rest on the little trail of crimson with a singular intensity. He said nothing, instead lifting his arm, then licked my blood right off with a single swipe of his tongue, his dark eyes lidding as he swallowed. For reasons I chose not to examine, the sight compelled me to look away, an odd tension settling in my stomach.
When I next turned my head back, it was to the sight of a pale blur swooping from the balcony and disappearing into the night, my still beating heart the only proof of his presence.
-
The room we had chosen to rest in was quiet, the sounds of our breathing accompanying the wind's low whispers where it seeped in through cracks in old windows. Renner sat a few paces away from me, halfway to unconsciousness, instinctively keeping his distance. My cuff was turned on at the moment, the cold blankness of my soul kept at bay, but his mind remembered it anyway. I could not - would not - blame him for it, though I could not help but note the distance.
I told myself the chill in my chest was purely due to the drafty room, and went back to cleaning my hand.
Settled into his corner, Renner's head soon dropped against the wall as sleep claimed him, leaving me to my thoughts. My left palm stung fiercely as the antiseptic made contact with the wound, though it did not bleed. After I'd pulled out the metal shard stuck in it, it turned out to have been mostly shallow, and a few hours' worth of time had seen it clotting over. I treated it carefully, then dug out a clean handkerchief out of a hidden pocket in my dress. Best avoid bleeding too openly, I thought. Comus may have taken it as a signal, and broken through the window to get to me.
The mental image caused the corners of my lips to twitch upwards, a new warmth alighting in my chest and chasing some of the chill away. He'd saved me again. It was not the first time, and would likely not be the last, but I found this particular instance lingering on my mind nonetheless.
It may have the sheer lethality of the situation- for I would have surely died if not for his intervention. It likely was, in part, but not entirely so I thought Instead, it might have been the closeness of him; usually, it was him fighting off my enemies while I dealt with other matters, frequently simply focused on staying alive. This time, however, it was different. I had fallen, and he'd caught me. Held me close to his body, gripping me awkwardly, yet with an obvious care to not do me harm. He'd lifted me back to relative safety, then lapped at my blood with undisguised relish, and-
I decided I did not wish to linger on that particular memory anymore.
Shaking my head slightly, I made myself as comfortable as I could on the floor, wrapping myself tightly in my torn coat. We had to set out again in a few hours, and I needed all the rest I could get. Fortunately, even despite my cluttered mind, the day's labors took their due. Soon enough, my eyelids grew heavy.
With fatigue tugging at my mind and dragging me down into oblivion, the last thing I heard was the distant beat of enormous wings, near imperceptible against the wind's everpresent whistling. An angel was guarding my rest, keeping watch from the skies.
I slept, and I did not dream.
-
I knew, of course, that Comus frequently trailed us at a distance - or, me specifically, to be precise - but he would typically not let himself be seen unless called for. He'd kept himself away, apart from our little group; close enough to defend me if need be, and to bathe in my null field every now and then, but rarely lingering beyond that.
And yet, over the weeks following my impromptu trust fall, a subtle change began asserting itself.
As we wandered the streets of Queen Mab, whether it be in search for clues to the city's many mysteries or hiding from those who would see us dead, I became increasingly aware of a great-winged shadow following in my footsteps. When we needed to fight, Comus would not only come to my aid, but often stay with me afterwards, helping lead me to safety before departing again. He became a much more tangible member of our group- avoided by all aside from myself, yet still undeniably present.
With Comus' increased closeness also came increased contact. My second time of being held by him for one reason or another soon became third- then fourth, then fifth and more. I would be flown up to vantage points, boosted over broken walls or simply grabbed and shoved away from danger while he fought for me, or alongside me, using his superior strength and endurance to my benefit. The number of remarks about 'my angel' increased significantly after that- remarks which I ignored, but noted nonetheless.
I gave little thought to it at the time. I was more than busy with other matters, and divining the thought process of an astartes way beyond what even my training could offer me. In quiet moments, I could admit - in the privacy of my own mind, at least - that his presence soothed something within me, but I left it at that, not wishing to delve too deep into my reasonings for it. I was apprehensive even then, I think, of what it might bring to light, if I did.
Then, as had become a pattern in my new life, that too changed soon enough.
-
The status quo broke alongside a rusted ladder's rung under my hands. I wasn't too far up, luckily, and my fall was brief and painless. By the time my boots hit the floor, Comus - who'd been trailing me, Renner and Patience for the past half hour - had materialized by my side, and cocked his head at me in question. I stepped closer to him in lieu of an answer, and quickly found myself pulled against his front, his arms like gentle vices around me.
The part of the abandoned factorium we found ourselves in didn't have enough space for him to fully spread his wings, but it seemed to matter little to Comus as he leapt upwards, propelled by only his legs and an awkward half-motion of his wings. Then, within a fraction of a second, I stood on solid ground again, giving the angel a nod of gratitude. He took a second to steady me, his hands two spots of warmth over my bodysuit - large enough to wrap around me in full - before he stepped away, his eyes flicking to the side.
Only when I looked down to see Patience and Renner exchange glances did I consider how casually I had done all this; welcoming Comus' touch, even as utilitarian as it had been, without pause. As if there was nothing strange about it- which for me, I realized, there no longer was.
Without realizing it, I had come to trust the angel implicitly. Despite our less than auspicious meeting and his predatory nature, his closeness did not worry me. On the contrary- I was not only unperturbed by his presence, but comforted.
I chanced a look at Comus, only to find his large, dark eyes on me already, his head cocked in a distinctly avian manner as he studied me. Unbidden and unwelcome, heat began trying to crawl up my cheeks.
Fortunately - or unfortunately, depending on point of view - the people we'd been searching for chose that moment to reveal themselves, and after the resulting firefight, nobody was interested in discussing it further. Still, as we made our way back to the safehouse, battered but alive, with Comus' shadow following in our wake, I could feel Patience's eyes digging into the back of my spine. Studying. Searching.
Truthfully, I could not blame her. I had much to think of, myself.
-
Later that day, I sat in the little bedroom I'd claimed for myself, my distracted gaze aimed at the sky beyond the window. The weak autumn sun had just recently faded below Queen Mab's horizon of roofs, plunging the world into a greyish gloom. A fine cloud of smog rolled through the streets, serving as a fitting backdrop for my scattered thoughts.
My knowledge of astartes was, while much greater than that of the average Queen Mab citizen, still rather sparse. The books I had been given talked some about the eighteen legions and the chapters which succeeded them, then moved on to focus on physiology and weak spots. Their two hearts and fast clotting blood, fused ribcages and reinforced bones. How to face one and maybe, hopefully, come out alive. Clinical and detached, and critically lacking in detail.
It did little to prepare me for Comus. Nowhere did the books speak of their habits, their way of thinking. Or what might draw one of the Emperor's angels to guard me so closely, to linger in my presence with such unbridled loyalty.
Back in the Below, he had said he was mine to command, and had stuck to his word ever since. I had no illusion of being able to force him into anything- and yet he'd given me that power anyway, time and time again. He had stated to be bred to obey, and while I did not doubt it, I also did not believe many astartes would follow a human's word so faithfully as he did mine. Nor, I assumed, would they watch one so closely as he did, guarding my life with a focus beyond of what I asked of him.
Perhaps it was out of simple practicality. The chill of my null field was the only thing standing between him and a return to the fires of his previous madness. He needed to come near me periodically, lest his predatory thirst began to overwhelm him again, turning him into the ravening beast he'd been in the Below. I got the feeling he would do much to avoid that fate- it would have made sense, had that been the primary reason for his actions.
Perhaps it was purpose for purpose's sake. He'd been lost when I found him, without goal. For a warrior, even without memories as he was, it would have likely been unpleasant to remain aimless. I had offered him clarity, a mission and a purpose to serve- perhaps that was why he stayed.
Or maybe - and I had been avoiding that particular avenue of thought before, but no more - he simply did not wish to lose my company.
Legion, chapter, squad, warband. A brotherhood beyond blood. Loyal and traitor alike. My books had remarked on it briefly, as a warning. There would never only be one. If you find yourself pursued by an astartes, assume others are nearby. A rule that I had seen proven true, over and over again.
Except Comus had been alone. Whatever it was he'd fled from, it was clear he could not, and would not, return. Any kin he likely had were lost to him, as he had similarly been lost to the madness of his thirst. The rest of our group avoided him, apprehensive or fearful, and none other knew of his presence here. The only source of kinship remaining was- well.
Me, I supposed. Something in my chest tightened at the notion.
He'd called me solace, I remembered then, with a sudden sharpness. So casually, as simply honest as he always was. Comus was the one, singular person left in my life who did not revile or, at best, tolerate my blankness, but actually found comfort in it. Who took comfort in me, in my entirety. Not as a role I'd played, not with my null field safely contained and away, just… me. Beta Bequin.
Just as he was without kin, so was I, in my own way. The other blanks I had grown up with, the teachers and students of the Maze Undue, all were dead or scattered to the wind. The inquisitorial retinue may have taken me amongst their ranks, but I was a stranger, wearing the face of a woman long dead. Renner was an exception, and I did consider him a friend, but… even he found my blankness disquieting. Even he would shift away from my null field, face twisting in discomfort, in instinctive revulsion. I could not - would not - blame him, but it did ache, just a bit.
A flash of white cut through the ever ever dimming sky, soaring above the surrounding buildings. The figure swooped down, slowing its descent with a few backbeats of its wings, before ducking out of sight in between buildings.
I got up from my chair, and went to fetch my coat.
-
Comus wasn't hard to find.
In a book I'd read as a child, I had seen a story about following breadcrumbs. Today, I followed feathers instead. It was a good thing this area was largely abandoned; I wasn't sure Comus could have gone mostly undetected otherwise. Still, it did make it easier to track down his dwelling, and for that I was grateful.
My trail quickly led me to an old, tall building- the tallest in the immediate area, with something of a little tower jutting out on top. The windows on the lower floors were cracked, but mostly intact, while the ones on the highest point were entirely gone. As the final proof I was in the right place, a snow white plume drifted out of one empty window frame. About the length of my forearm, the feather whirled in the air, only to be carried away by the wind a few scant moments later, disappearing from my sight.
I dragged my eyes away from the sky, approached the front door, pulled my set of lock picks out of my coat and got to work.
Once I'd ascended the rickety staircase up, I came upon a hexagonal room, ringed on each side by glassless windows. The cold wind tugged at my coat, seeking to steal my warmth, and I shivered in the open air, feeling a touch too exposed.
The occupant of this place seemed to have no issue with it, however. Comus Nocturnus knelt on the ground, unclothed as he always was, licking a few spots of crimson off of his fingertips. His eyes turned to me when I entered, dark and curious, but he did not pause in what he was doing, watching me with his head tilted to the side. I took a moment to survey the room while I gathered my thoughts.
Around him, and scattered all over the ground, were a variety of feathers. I spotted the grey-green of a pigeon's plumage, black primaries of what may have once been crows and others I could not identify, all interspersed with significantly larger white vanes. Some of them were longer than my entire leg, I noted with curiosity- primary feathers, if I knew my terminology right. Beneath it all, I spotted old bloodstains on the wooden flooring, brown and flaky.
Beyond that, the room was empty. There was no furniture, no bed- not even a pile of cloths to rest on. It looked desolate. Lonely.
"Still only pigeons and ravens?" I asked Comus, who seemed to have finished with his macabre meal and stood, wings fluffing up a little.
His gaze turned away for a moment. "There may have been a raccoon. A dog, perhaps," he said with a quiet shame. "But I have not preyed on humans."
"Good," I said, then set my cuff to dead. His feathers shifted as my null field enveloped him, then his shoulders sagged in clear relief. Calmed by my blankness, the weight of his hungry madness temporarily taken off his shoulders. Soothed by what others found repulsive.
I suddenly found I could not look at him anymore, an aching warmth in my chest. I walked over to one of the gaping window frames, looking out into the late dusk beyond. Moving so silently as to be almost imperceptible, I heard the angel follow me. "Do you sleep here?" I asked. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his head cock.
"Yes," he said, his gaze digging into my side. Wondering why I'd come here, most likely.
"Are you not cold?" I asked, partly out of genuine curiosity and in part to stall for time.
Slowly, Comus blinked, considering. "I do not think so," he said, and I had the sharp realization he very well may not have known what warmth felt like. In the back of my mind, I resolved to bring him a blanket, at the very minimum. He had sworn himself to me- the least I could do was to care for his wellbeing in turn. Queen Mab was cold more often than not, and I assumed he slept on the floor here, naked and battered by wind. My angel's superior physiology may have protected him from illness, but I doubted it was comfortable, even for one such as him.
I assumed he simply did not know there could be anything better. The warmth of a hearth, the simple comfort of a pillow under one's head- with his mind bereft of memory, such concepts must have been alien to him, if he had ever known them at all. That ached too.
Finally, I turned my head to Comus, finding him standing a hand's breadth away from me. He loomed, as he always did, powerful and inhuman, yet I felt no fear, no apprehension. His body beside mine radiated warmth while his large, dark eyes studied me, an unvoiced question still hidden behind his gaze. I did not know how to answer him. I did not know, fully, why I came here. I only knew I had to. That I wanted to.
Are you lonely, I wanted to ask my angel. Does the absence of your kin, of those like you, ache like a missing limb? Is that why you care for me so, why you yield to me so readily, I did not say, but I thought it all the same.
Perhaps I was lonely too.
With our faces so close, I noticed a few spots of blood marring his pale cheek. Without thinking, I reached up to brush them off with the back of my knuckles. Like a flower turning to the fading sun, Comus leaned into the contact, his eyes half-closing. For a moment, I felt as if I couldn't breathe.
Slowly, I wiped the blood away, then let my hand linger. My thumb stroked at one sharp cheekbone, under his eye, and I saw as much as felt him push into the contact further. At his back, his wings unfurled, coming to loosely bracket us both. Despite the chill in the air, an ember of something bright lit up in my chest.
Acting purely on impulse and driven by a longing so powerful it had my heart in a vice, I cupped his cheek and gently, without force, pulled him down closer to me. He could have easily resisted, but he did not, yielding to me as he always did. I put my other hand on his shoulder, delighting in the warmth of his skin, and rose up to press my lips against his.
This kiss was chaste, light. Comus did not reciprocate - and I realized he would not know how to, anyway - but he did lean into it, into me. His wings encircled me entirely, seeming to welcome my closeness.
I pulled away soon after, looking him in the eye with an uncharacteristic nervousness, and waited for his response. This was not something I would command him in. I wanted more; more of his acceptance and presence and his beautiful, inhuman warmth, but I would not continue without giving him a choice.
His gaze bore into me, his lips slightly parted. I waited.
"Again?" he asked, with an unusual bashfulness, his wings puffing up where they curled around me. I smiled, brought my hands to both sides of my angel's face, and gladly leaned in to meet him once more.
-
Dramatis personae:
Beta Bequin: A blank raised in a place called the Maze Undue, which posed as a legitimate imperial organization while being anything but, something she had no knowledge of for most of her life. Not the first person to wear this face and name, though that, too, was a secret to her. Comus guards her life fiercely.
Comus Nocturnus: A strange, winged Blood Angel, having emerged from the so called King Door mad with the Red thirst and no memories beyond his name. Beta's blankness keeps him sane.
Renner: A Curst, a man paying penance for his sins by helping others. Friendly with Beta.
Patience: A member of an inquisitorial retinue. Anything but patient.
-
Gah, these two make me insane! Now that I've gotten a lot of the OC content out of my system, it's time for me to return to my other favorite thing: Rarepairs! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!
I am being so good and so patient waiting for Pandaemonium and the various tidbits— including the above— were so, so good for me and will have to do to tide me over. Particularly these!
