The imagined scene is: after the Erdtree begins to burn, Darian also starts to feel that he and Devin’s singular soul, which has lost its anchor, is slowly fading away too (sorry, I didn't do the Fia side quest in my first playthrough to role-play as the prisoner). So he finds a tree in Limgrave that is still lively alive, with parasitic vines entwined around its trunk, sharing life with it; before losing the ability to move, he removes his armor made of interwoven gold and silver (actually they are just other colored metals that are gold and silver) and lies down under that tree with Devin, who is not awake. Everything looks like it did when they were just born... He can't help but think of the scene with his blurry-faced parents praying to their local deity, wishing for this distorted life to find rest soon, so he also starts to silently pray in his heart that the burning giant tree in the distance will open its fiery embrace before collapsing, to receive and purify their pitiful souls...
If his brothers had witnessed the scene, they would have been ashamed of him. A veteran such as himself, cornering a small baseline like that girl like an animal ready for the butcher, would have been scolded and reprimanded. But Darian did not care about what once was his heritage as a Blood Angel; he only cared for the answers.
For days he lived in the nightmare of being noticed, that the horrifying truth of his nature, of his gene-seed nature, could be discovered. To know that between their ranks everyone bestowed with Sanguinius gene-seed was a step closer to becoming a beast, to attacking whoever had been unlucky enough to pass his path, that no one, neither cousins nor simple humans, could escape his thirst… He couldn't bear it; he couldn't.
He had already been separated from his brothers, the only ones who could really understand the pain and the suffering. He did everything he could to prevail, only to fall not in battle, but under a thirst forced on him.
For days he searched for news, trying to stay out of the light, yet close enough to hear and to understand if a change had happened between the ranks of the few serfs under the care of the Deathwatch. But nothing came, not a sound, not a wail, just the common talk, the usual chattering. He could not try to be direct with them; only alarm could have been raised, and that was not in his plans. He did try to get some more subtle information about changes, some events, or something that could have brought a change in their own lives or in the life of the monastery itself. But nothing came; no change had happened.
No one died, no strange death from blood loss, so the one he had attacked was still alive?
He had found some relief to notice that the still-covered rumor of his thirst was still well hidden under the banner of the Deathwatch, yet a new sense of worry started to crawl on him like a cold shiver. Someone knew; they knew, and they decided to not talk. Two were the main options he had presumed to be more reasonable: the first one was that whoever had fallen under his thirst had decided for fear to not speak about it; the second, they planned something with it, and they were taking time.
If one was a silent compliance, the second was a dangerous position he could not put himself in. In either case, he would not have allowed them to get away with it.
So he waited for their move; acting now without awareness of who they were was a stupid move. He could not risk getting unwanted attention. What he needed to do now was wait and strike at the right moment.
And that moment came.
It came as everything started, without knowledge and suddenly. It was just a small checkup at the apothecary, nothing that needed too many worries. He and a few of his brothers stood there waiting for their turn or for the visit to be over. He did not even pay attention to the two Salamanders, one of the two being the apothecary.
"You're in good health, brother; the Emperor smiles upon you."
"My thanks, brother Nev'ran… But, tell me…about the girl?"
"The serf?" he said, finishing the last control. "Bad damage to the neck… Do not worry; she's safe among the others. She's recovering."
"I still cannot take away that image from my mind. If I wasn't there in time, she would have died…"
"You were at the right time and at the right moment."
And so they were too.
His victim was a girl, a serf… and he still remembered her scent…
And all of this led the two of you here. He towered over you; his blue eyes were closer now to a reddish tone, and his dark hair covered his face like a dark curtain. You had easily disappeared under his figure, trembling like a rabbit in front of the wolf, not a trace of the beauty of his legion on him, only the snarl of the beast creature that had attacked you that night.
"So?!" He barked, his fist slammed against the metal wall close to your head. You shrieked, now completely glued to the wall.
"My… My lord, I—"
"I almost killed you. You were one step from being dead, and you…you just decided to stay silent…why?!"
"…I'm... I'm not playing any game, my lord…" You finally took some courage. "I… I just couldn't… I just couldn't."
"…Why?" he hissed, a cruel tone in his voice, completely oblivious to the terror in your eyes and voice.
"…I…" You gulped strongly; your throat was so close that it hurt, and just this action was impossible for you to do now. You tried to find some courage by holding the edges of your robe, holding your breath.
"I…I don't know…"
"What do you mean?"
"…I just… I don't know…"
He looked at you, trying to read your gesture, your breath, anything that he could scream lies. He waited… and he found nothing.
You were not lying, not one word; you were absolutely sincere… You simply decided to stay silent.
His eyes kept on devouring you with his fierce gaze, observing your face and your neck. The bandages were still visible, poking out from the collar; the yellowish color of the bands struck against the black of your clothes. He could smell it, the scent of ointments, medicine, of the oils…and the subtle smell of iron.
His face contorted in an expression of disgust, mostly for himself. He felt it again, like the night he had drunk from you, the sweet nectar flowing in his mouth, entering his throat like honey.
He covered his face with his hand; the idea was repulsive and yet so tempting, the sting of the thirst coming back with its talon and clutches.
You looked at him; his expression was…difficult to read. He seemed in pain, afraid…like that night.
You still remembered his howling of pain from his chamber, the grunts, and his voicing, begging for the pain to go away and leave him be. Top die as a warrior and not like a beast. You dared to approach him, to get closer, and to try to bring help to the poor angel that was cursed with a mysterious pain. In your head, maybe, you blamed yourself for your predicament more than him.
When he started to look back at you, you heard the same ragged breath from that night, like the pain was still there, like a splinter too deep in the flesh to be removed.
"Keep your word… like you did in these weeks… Do not share this information with anyone. It's an order from me."
His eyes were back to that bluish tone, and his features were again soft and candid, as the statue of Sanguinius showed. One of his sons.
"…Yes, my lord…" you responded weakly.
Yet, those irises could not look away from your neck, the thought deep in his mind. The hand that still held the wall slowly moved closer to you; his fingers lingered over where his teeth had sunk the first time. He could hear your little heart bumping like a drum in your chest, your breath short, your…
Your embarrassed face, those eyes trying to avoid his gaze for the shame, and the reddish tone on your cheeks. His finger pressed over the wound, gently, to not bring pain, and your breath…
He immediately retracted his hand. In the throne's name, what had just happened?! Why did your body react in such a way?! No, he needed to control himself; he would not have fallen again to the thirst!
He was an Angel of the Emperor! A son of Sanguinius! A proud veteran of the Blood Angels! He had fought! He had served, he had—
Your hand found his face… It was so warm…so kind… Oh Throne, your smell was intoxicating.
He was in pain; he was in pain again, and it was again your own fault. You tried to stay away, but hiding just caused his mind to get in a spiral of fear and suspicion! You should had talk? Search for him? But you weren't aware of what kind of force took over him in these moments; it was just him? It was from his position? More where in pain like that? You had heard of stories about the angels in need of drinking the blood of their enemy and, sometimes, of other humans, but you couldn't know…
You knew just one thing: you were there to serve.
"My Lord… I won't say a word…"
He felt it in his guts, in every fiber of his being. And those accepting eyes, so patient, so naive…
When his fangs were once again on your skin, you did not fight back.
Say MC DID marry Hayden and Nix and had kids would the various realms accept them as rulers? Seems like antipathy runs quite deep. Also would Hayden and Nix be able to share as I believe the poly would be a V rather than a triangle right?
It's possible. Difficult but possible, such a union is only possible in this way and through agreements. And Nix and Hayden may not like each other, or agree on many things, but if there's a common ground ,like Mc... well. We'll see. But one thing is certain, they only tolerated each other.
Poly V is yet to be seen, and definitely won't be added anytime soon in book one. Could there be a beginning? Maybe, but considering everything I've planned, the routes and everything else, this will be explored further in book two.
