#smangfic

[seliph]

surprise! i wrote more seliph/ares. people told me to write spiderman kisses so i wrote spiderman kisses

@arthoure help me

The day had started just as Seliph had promised to the royal court: he and Ares would sit through their boring meeting, and then the two could spend the rest of their time together however they pleased. Ares and Seliph were, of course, prepared with their loopholes. They never said we couldn’t sit next to each other. And with Ares slowly trailing his fingers up his thigh under the table, Seliph only processed about half of what was said.

When it was finally over, Seliph grabbed Ares’s hand and pulled him out of the room, heading to Belhalla’s courtyard. Seliph laced their fingers together as they walked through the garden. He wanted to sit down and braid flowers into Ares’s hair, but Ares had other plans, it seemed.

Smirking, Ares took off his cloak and set it neatly on a nearby bench. Seliph raised his eyebrows in surprise; when did Ares ever take that off other than when he was getting completely undressed? “Watch this,” he said before heading toward a tree. He climbed it, effortlessly, Seliph knew Ares made sure of that, and straddled a limb several feet off the ground.

Just what is he up to? Seliph thought with a fond smile. Ares wrapped his legs around each other and flipped himself upside down on the branch. Seliph rushed forward, worried he was going to fall, but Ares only stuck his arms out in triumph.

Seliph grinned and stood in front of Ares anyway, the branch high enough that their faces were level with each other. “You look ridiculous.” And he did. His blonde hair was falling down to the ground below him, his face red from the blood rush, and his cravat had come untucked and was now flopped over his chin.

“You love me,” Ares teased.

“I really do.” Seliph couldn’t even jokingly deny it. He closed the distance between them and tucked the cravat back in (as best as he could while everything in front of him was upside down, anyway). He took Ares’s face in his hands and placed the softest kiss on his lips. He backed away so Ares could get down but he made no move to do so. “Are you stuck?” Seliph tried not to smirk himself.

“The Black Knight does not get stuck.”

Seliph hummed in agreement and watched him curiously. “Okay, Black Knight. We have the rest of the afternoon to ourselves, and I was going to take you back to my chambers. I suppose I’ll head up there myself, and since you’re not stuck, you’ll be right behind me, yes? It’s been so long since we were together last. I would hate to do things alone again.” With that, he turned on his heel and started toward the castle. Perhaps not even a minute later, he heard a loud thump and an Oof, and the next thing he knew, he was being whisked off his feet and carried inside.

[seliph]

this sum cheesy seliph/ares bullshit right here and if i burst into flames in the next five minutes id be fine w that

based on my and @arthoures sappy headcanons because i am weak for lazy morning makeouts and neck kisses

The dawn light was just beginning to kiss Seliph’s face when he opened his eyes. Ares, having woken up a while ago, had his arms wrapped around him and a hand carding gently through his hair. Ares could never get over its softness or how it was only for him to touch.

Seliph shifted to lay on top of him, a sleepy smile on his face and blue hair spilling down Ares’s neck and shoulders. Normally, Seliph would be the one leaning in for the first kiss of the morning, but Ares beat him to it, pulling him down to place a soft one on his lips. When Ares broke away, Seliph was beaming and he couldn’t resist. He tightened his grip and started kissing Seliph’s neck.

“We have work to do,” Seliph said, laughing. Despite his words, he made no move to stop Ares or get out of bed, instead practically melting into his touch.

Ares hummed against the skin of his neck but continued.

“Ares.”

It was met with another hm.

Seliph sighed, but his smile remained. They’d been apart for too long, longer than usual. Seliph had had to postpone Ares’s visit a week to dispose of Loptyrians that had popped up around Velthomer. He should have known that Ares would have started the morning like he had started the night. Impatient, but irresistible.

“Ares, please, I’m almost done with my paperwork.”

“Yes, I am aware.” Ares brushed Seliph’s ponytail aside and peeled his collar away to kiss at his neck.

“Then why are you undoing my shirt already?”

“It’ll make things easier later.”

Seliph took a deep breath, like he was trying to seem irritated, but Ares saw his cheeks flush and a grin tug at the corners of his lips. When he finally did finish, Seliph didn’t even get his folder completely closed before Ares had everything off his desk with one sweeping motion of his arm and dragged Seliph on top of it with the other.

“There was a full bottle of ink in that mess, I hope you realize.” But the way Seliph tore at Ares’s clothes told him that he didn’t really care.

Ares peaked at the mess on the other side of the room, smirking at the sight of their clothes on the floor with the quills and papers. Ares had made sure the ink hadn’t spilled on anything important, but he still wasn’t looking forward to cleaning it up.

Seliph’s hands on Ares’s face brought him back into the moment, being guided into one of his kisses that always screamed love and adoration, that could quash any doubts Ares had about Seliph’s unconditional love for him. He didn’t know he was smiling until Seliph, smiling just as widely, pulled back and was running his thumbs on the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, work can wait a little longer,” Seliph finally said and wrapped his arms around Ares tightly.

[seliph]

i’m hot off a 12 hour shift, and i finally finished my libgai fic. it was supposed to be something sweet and fluffy and i’m not sure what happened. it turns out okay in the end though. i promise rethi hasnt corrupted me entirely yet.

anyway i’m exhausted and my ass needs to shleep

Gaius had the same nightmare every so often, dreamt of the red hot brand scorching the skin of his forearm. It felt just as real every time, like his arms were once again strapped to the wooden chair, like the cloth gag was still tight in his mouth, barely muffling his agonized screams as searing metal made contact with flesh.

Most nights he would shoot upright, gasping for air and in a profuse sweat, alone, not disturbing anyone else. Tonight, however, he’d fallen asleep all but wrapped around the monk in his bed, and his sudden movement startled Libra out of his own slumber. Gaius hunched over as he tried to catch his breath, avoiding touching his arm even though it was a source of comfort after such nightmares. It’s over, that pain isn’t happening, it’s not real. Though the scar remained, telling himself that the physical pain was over was at least some relief. But he couldn’t.

Even during their most intimate—vulnerable—moments, Gaius still kept the mark covered, and Libra never pressed about it. Libra knew of his criminal past, of course, and probably knew why Gaius never exposed his arm, but he never saw the permanent, obvious reminder of it all, never saw anything to sneer at in disgust and make him want to leave.

Libra was up with Gaius as soon as he realized what was happening, resting a hand on his back, stroking up and down. He didn’t ask questions. Gaius didn’t deserve him. Really, what was a man of the cloth doing with a branded criminal like him, anyway?

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake ya,” Gaius offered, not sure what else to say. This was all still so new to him. Libra, too, but Libra’s damaged heart was through no doing of his. And Libra was trying to change for the better. He was always so kind, so generous, so patient with Gaius even when he returned to camp with suspiciously obtained items.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” was all Libra asked, in that calming, loving tone that almost made Gaius want to spill everything.

Almost.

“Just a bad nightmare,” Gaius said. It wasn’t the first he’s had with Libra there, but he’d never woken up in such a panic. It had always been a slight jump, Libra half waking up to pull Gaius closer to him and soothe him back to sleep, telling him that it was all in the past.

Gaius didn’t realize that, to his horror, his hand had betrayed him and was resting over the cloth around his left arm, until Libra gently took his hand away and held his arm. Gaius flinched, waiting for Libra to peel the fabric away and see the ugly brand that’s haunted him for years, but Libra only trailed long, delicate fingers across it, the featherlight touch leaving goosebumps in its wake, before leaning down to place a soft kiss on the fabric. Gaius shuddered at how close his lips were to the scar.

When Libra straightened his back, Gaius expected to hear how Naga would forgive him, how Libra would help him cleanse himself of his past sins and redeem himself, but perhaps Libra could sense how raw everything was. He just wrapped his arms around Gaius and pulled him against his chest, kissing his temple and stroking the back of his head. “I care very deeply for you, Gaius,” Libra murmured, and Gaius let himself melt into his embrace. “I will always be with you.” His angelic voice alone brought Gaius back to reality. Libra was just, a saint. He knew of Gaius’s past and still held him close every night, still saw the good in him and helped him reform the bad. How stupid he felt thinking one more thing from his past would ruin all of that.

Gaius would show him the scar eventually. But tonight, he just let Libra guide him into laying down again, whispering a quiet Thanks, Padre as careful fingers moved in soothing motions and lulled him back to sleep.

[seliph]

so i haven’t gotten around to writing the seliph/ares parks and rec au like i said i would, but i have something sort of similar (at the end anyway). i wrote this the other day for my beloved mom @arthoure for her birthday bc i love her and i love seliph/ares. also this fic is based on us rping our boys and a bunch of headcanons weve been talking about for like 8 years so please enjoy this i worked hard on it and its a masterpiece

The royal court was in an outrage. After they had overcome their fears and formulated a plan, Seliph and Ares had just announced their engagement and how they were going to produce heirs. That won’t work! Our countries should be ruled by a king and a queen!

Seliph waved them off, jaw tense with anger. “I happened to have been raised by two men and a surrogate mother,” he said, voice booming in the meeting room. “Are you going to take issue with that and insult not only Lady Adean and Lord Oifey, but also King Shannan?”

Ares sat quietly at his side, knee bouncing and knuckles white on top of the book in his lap. Managing Your Anger and Other Courtly Etiquette. He’d borrowed it from Chalphy’s library in anticipation for this meeting. It was so absurd Ares would have sworn it was written for humor, but maybe it was what he needed to get through this.

The pompous nobles still refused to budge, repeating the same useless arguments to Seliph. Ares had hoped that glowering in silence next to Seliph would be enough to make them back down, but no such luck. He rose to his feet, slammed the book on the table, and straightened to his full height, glad that he was wearing his black cloak and armor. Everyone except Seliph jumped at the outburst.

“Do you wish for your king and savior to be unhappy?” Ares bellowed with a flip of his cape. “How much has he done for you, for the world, and this is how you treat him?” He furrowed his brow so hard he thought his face would get stuck like that. “Do you know who had your coveted king and queen family? Julius.” He spat the name with so much hate, even Seliph was stunned. Seliph’s blue eyes on him were wide, but he saw Seliph biting back a smirk.

One of the noble jesters who clearly had not been paying attention stood up to object. “Well, what about heirs-“

“We have a plan,” Ares cut him off immediately. “Our announcement has been made, and all of your objections have been met with a counterpoint and thus deemed stupid and ridiculous. We won’t be hearing anymore of this!” He grabbed Seliph’s hand and squeezed tightly, making sure everyone saw and realized that they weren’t giving in. He swiped the book from the table and left with a beaming Seliph in tow.

Later, Oifey met Seliph and Ares in the courtyard, where they were dancing in front of a small fire on the ground. “I’m proud of you two for not backing down,” he said proudly. “Congratulations- what are you doing?”

Ares stoked the paper in the fire with a grin. “Celebrating. We forced the nobles’ approval and got ten complaints of excessive rudeness but who cares?”

“You should have seen him, Oifey, he was awesome,” Seliph chimed in with a smile. “So smart, so hot, so mean, I wanted him to take me right there in that stuffy meeting room.”

Oifey frowned and pointed at the book in the fire. “No, what are you doing?”

Seliph poked at one of the papers. “Oh, we are burning this awful anger management book.”

“That’s mine. I wanted that back!”

Ares shrugged. “Well, frankly you should have thought of that before we burned it.”

[seliph]

well apparently in the developer notes deirdre started remembering shit abt sigurd over time so naturally this resulted. happy belated birthday siegmunds this is ficlet 1 of like 2 or 3 and i cant wait to make you sad even though it sucks

Arvis pretended not to notice the way Deirdre stared at his enemy at Belhalla, like she had fallen in love with him. Why would she? Arvis was all she needed. He could provide for her. They could rule the peaceful, unified continent together. This man was but a pesky insect in the way of their happiness. An insect Arvis swatted into dust without hesitation.

Arvis pretended not to notice the utter devotion in Deirdre’s eyes fading over the years. She loved and cared for their twins with all her heart, but there was a shadow of forlornness in her smile that Arvis couldn’t shake. When his son’s heart was corrupted by evil and turned the boy on his own mother, Arvis pretended not to notice his enemy’s name on Deirdre’s final breath.

Try as he might, Arvis couldn’t ignore the hard-eyed expression of determination that once belonged to his beloved, not when it was somehow right in front of him years after her passing. It now belonged to the son of the fool he’d destroyed almost two decades before. And behind his steely resolve was the worst look of all: pity. The boy knew Arvis was a simple pawn in his son’s sick game, and Arvis couldn’t help but smile as the cold steel pierced his chest, his suffering finally coming to an end.

[seliph]

i was gonna say Claypollo with 29 but thats so fucking painful

Apollo rubbed his eyes. It couldn’t possibly be… No. His mind was just playing tricks on him. Making him see the dead. He refused to believe the scene in front of him until the figure flashed him a familiar, giant grin and gave him a thumbs up. “I’m Clay Terran, and I’m fine!” the man boomed from the other end of the hallway, no doubt startling every single one of Apollo’s neighbors.

The tears flowed from Apollo’s eyes before he could hide his face in his friend’s chest. He took in everything he could, the sight of Clay, the sound of his (admittedly Apollo’s fault) loud voice, how his bulky arms felt around Apollo’s shoulders, hell, even the smell of the cheap grocery store cologne Clay insisted on wearing all the time. Apollo took in as much as he could, terrified that the moment would be gone in an instant. “Clay, I,” he managed to choke out, “I thought you were dead. You’re my best friend, and…”

“I know,” Clay said. “I knew too much. I had to ‘die’ and go into hiding to stay safe. I’m sorry.”

Apollo ignored the tightening sensation on his arm. “Please don’t leave me again. I’m so alone.”

He broke the hug and stepped back so Apollo could see him through clearer eyes. Apollo always loved how that blue jacket looked on him, and the tattered edges adding a sense of ruggedness and hardship. “I won’t leave you.” Clay shrugged it off his shoulders and handed it to him. “Would you mind taking care of this for me for just a little longer? I’ll be back for it.”

Apollo’s wrist screamed for mercy. As soon as he touched the jacket, his friend was gone, and he woke up alone, clutching the thing to his chest like his life depended on it. He could still smell the cologne. He’d give anything for his apartment to be bathed in that nauseating scent again. He was tired of waking up on a wet pillow, soaked from him crying in his sleep. Tired of the bruise around his wrist from his bracelet being so tight all the time.

Tomorrow would be the day he convicts his friend’s murderer. He promised Clay, and he refused to accept another broken promise in their friendship.

The hooded figure stared up at the apartment building, wondering when they could return to their normal life. They had a promise to keep, after all.

[seliph]

(32 EirikaxDeirdre AND DON'T MAKE IT NECROPHILIA THIS TIME)

FINE GOD DAMN IT NOTHING ABOUT THIS PAIRING MAKES SENSE ANYWYA SO WHY SHOULD THIS FIC

Eirika didn’t know what to think of the silver-haired beauty she faced. Her skin was so pale, so delicate. She worried that if she stroked her cheek too hard, she would break. Eirika kept her touch so light, even a pool of water would be left undisturbed by it. She was so captivated by the girl’s golden eyes, she couldn’t help but say aloud, “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

She almost didn’t hear the loud, commanding footsteps of her brother from outside the room. Eirika shoved the rare trading card under her pillow and looked up at her brother innocently. He raised an eyebrow and scoffed, “Are you talking to your cards again?”

Eirika snorted nervously. “What? No! Who even does that?” she laughed, making sure her precious was tucked safely out of sight.

“Well, whatever, dinner is ready.” He turned on his heel and left the room. Eirika blew a raspberry in his direction before taking off after him.

[seliph]

dont ask me why i thought of this au but i did and im sad and i hope everyone else is sad too. i havent played fe4 in years so its probably ~wrong~ but you know what

Seliph’s sword trembled in his hand, palms sweating as his half-brother stared down at him and his army from the top floor of the temple. Julia rested a comforting hand on his arm and gave him a look of reassurance. When Seliph met her gaze, the world around him started spinning.

It felt like only yesterday that they were in the Velthomer castle garden, ditching their studies to practice swordplay instead. Hiding in the bushes when Uncle Azel came searching for them to scold them. Seliph hushing Julius when he started whispering about how important their studies were and how he needed to learn everything he could if he was to inherit the Velthomer throne one day.

Seliph wondered how much of his studying got Julius into this mess. He blamed himself, mostly. Blamed himself for every book Julius had read about the heroes of old. He should have stopped him.

Julius’ cackling snapped Seliph out of his trance. “What’s wrong, brother?” the monster spat so coldly it shot down Seliph’s spine. This was no brother of his. “Do you really think you can defeat me now? Don’t make me laugh!”

“Julius,” he said, hardening his quivering tone. “I have to end this. It’s my fault.”

“Your fault? Don’t flatter yourself. I was always meant to surpass you. It was only a matter of time.” Julius whipped around to face the altar. “I must begin my ritual. I hope my playthings are enough to keep you company in the meantime.”

Seliph desperately cut through the army, Julia at his heels to cast down any foe out of his reach. Every motion he made was second nature to him at that point, and he found himself lost in his thoughts again.

The emperor had fallen ill, Julia had written to him, and Julius hadn’t been taking it so well. He’d researched for days at a time to find a cure, a stall, anything. Half the time he’d refused the meals Julia had brought him. The entire ordeal had all but stressed Julius to his breaking point.

Everything changed after Julius had finished his research. Julia was banished from the kingdom. Julius remained at the emperor’s side at all times. Nobody was allowed an audience with them. The emperor himself had been cured, or so everyone thought. Seliph had forced himself not to wretch at the sight of the soulless shell they’d faced back in Velthomer. What in the world had Julius done? Even the thought of it now made Seliph ill.

Seliph finally reached the altar, and the redhead turned to face him. The Julius in front of Seliph now was not the Julius he knew. His once-fiery red eyes showed a touch of evil. When he stared at Seliph, the sly smirk the monster had on his face froze Seliph inside.

“I’m sorry things have to end this way, Seliph,” he hissed. That guttural voice was definitely not Julius’s.

Seliph tightened his grip on his sword. “What have you done with my brother?” he demanded. “Give him back!”

“Foolish boy.” Julius let out a chilling cackle that echoed through the dark temple. “Julius’s heart was weak. He doesn’t exist anymore. He sold his soul to me in exchange for saving his father and his people.”

Seliph swallowed the lump in his throat. “Y-you’re wrong,” he steadied his tone. “He’s still in there, I know it. I’m going to save him.”

Julius readied his tome, a cloud of blackness engulfing his open hand, the dark rock in his palm glowing. “Killing me is the only way to free his soul. If you are prepared to murder your own brother, then come at me, boy!”

It was over in an instant. Julia healed the black magic from Seliph’s wounds, tears flowing down her face as she avoided looking at the blood flowing down his sword and onto his hands. Sieglinde landed on the ground with a loud clatter, and Seliph soon followed, falling to his knees next to Julius’s nearly motionless body.

“I was... such a fool,” his voice came with weak, staggering breaths.

“Stop talking,” Seliph whispered. “We’re going to save you. You need to save your strength.”

“No. I deserve this.” Julius took Seliph’s bloody hand in his. “The demon king is going to be revived after I die. You have to stop him. For me.”

“Don’t talk like that, brother,” Julia pleaded. “We’re going to save you. Then, we can all live together. Just the three of us.”

He smiled and closed his eyes. “That sounds nice,” he whispered weakly. “Tell me more.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Seliph saw Julius’s feet disintegrating, and his stomach dropped. “Y-yeah,” he said softly, squeezing Julius’s hand, “we’ll evacuate Velthomer’s citizens before the earthquake, and then everyone can live in Chalphy in peace. The people will love us, Julius. They’ll throw parades in our honor and celebrate our victory against the demon king. We’ll rebuild Chalphy together.”

“I like the sound of that,” Julius said. “Thank you... Seliph...”

Seliph rose to his feet, and the ground began to rumble. When he picked up Sieglinde, he noticed that the blood had disappeared. Julia wiped the tears from her eyes. Seliph prepared himself as the entire temple shook. He would defeat this beast once and for all. For Julius’s sake.

[seliph]

15. Ephlyon

"things you said with too many miles between us" yeah i took an odd turn w this one

Ephraim tried not to let the prince's word shake him, but he was frozen where he stood, powerless against the smaller man as he moved toward him. As he placed his hand on Ephraim's shoulder and slid it down his arm. Ephraim exhaled shakily as Lyon rested his hand on top of his and lifted his head to meet his gaze.

His eyes were dark and polluted with sorrow, but something more sinister lurked beneath. Ephraim tried pushing Lyon's words out of his mind. Words he'd read months before in a letter Lyon had sent about how war could soon be upon them.

The monster in Lyon shattered the stone that was in Ephraim's hand, and despite the chills the evil laughter sent up Ephraim's spine, all Ephraim heard ringing in his ears as he dropped to his knees was the bitter echo of "I've always loved you."

[seliph]

matt engarde and marvin grossberg, candle party au

BREEZY WHAT THE FUCK

AND WHAT THE HELL IS A CANDLE PARTY

"Nick, I told you this was a bad idea," Maya said as the cops led Matt out of the house in handcuffs.

"Shut up, Maya," Phoenix sighed and bowed his head in shame. "How was I supposed to know he would light Grossberg on fire?"

[seliph]

oh my god so thanks to my nagging brain and this random burst of inspiration to write garbage i present to you a continuation (?? idk what to call it) of my vampire lyon fic. it is a lot raunchier than the last one and i hope it makes you all sad bc i am an awful human being.

its from ephraims pov. the original fic from lyons perspective was only 980 words long and this one clocked in at 5.6k so. i know its long but i worked so hard on it and ive done nothing but think about it at work so i hope you enjoy it

What have I gotten myself into?

Given the circumstances, those words should have been at the forefront of Ephraim’s mind, but he didn’t fear the panting monster he had pinned between him and his bed. He didn’t fear the cold fingers as they gripped onto his shoulders, even though they could easily slide upwards and snap his neck if it so chose.

No, Ephraim would never fear this creature.

He’d studied vampires with his sister for a long time. Their feeding habits, primary victims, and even mating rituals. He wanted to know everything about the monsters they were trained to kill. The more he read about them, the more human they seemed to him. They had families, social classes (and even royalty), and more questionable habits that made Ephraim more bothered than he would ever admit. He read about how even though vampires chose young and beautiful victims to feast on and copulate with, they never experienced real attraction to them. They were typically only attracted to their own kind (the telltale sign of attraction being flushed ears), and to find one attracted to a human... He’d have better luck hunting for gold in his closet.

The first morning Ephraim woke up with marks, he wrote it off as the work of bedbugs and burned his linens. Still, he hid them from his father and sister. No need to get them worked up about it.

However, Ephraim would wake up with those same marks every day. He didn’t understand how, since most vampires don’t exactly handle their victims in a gentle manner and Ephraim was a pretty light sleeper. Then, the dreams started. Dreams of a vampire licking up his neck and digging its fangs into his skin. Dreams that felt so real Ephraim couldn’t help but let quiet moans slip out. They grew more intense every night, until one suck too hard jerked Ephraim out of his sleep. He was met with a head full of soft lavender hair brushing against his chin, the creature biting and licking at his neck none the wiser. Ephraim was paralyzed. Should he fight the creature off or try interacting with it? The fingers that rested on his shoulder were thin, as was the rest of the body, but with vampires, looks can be so deceiving. It had a gift, though, and it managed to get one more moan out of Ephraim before he slid his hands into the creature’s hair. He had to ask it why it chose him, but before he could get any words out, he felt the ears. Red hot. A matching feeling curled in the pit of his stomach. Surely this thing couldn’t be... attracted to him?

His hands moved to cup bony cheeks, tilting the vampire’s face so he could look into its eyes, and he somehow found himself even more speechless. Terrified golden eyes glowed in the dark room. That stunning color coupled with the lavender hair could only mean one thing. Not only was Ephraim the object of a vampire’s affections, but out of all of them that it could have been, it was the damn prince.

There was so much he wanted to ask him, but it all went out the window as soon as the prince let out the nervous breath he’d been holding in. Ephraim wrapped his arms around his small figure and pulled him onto the bed, crashing their lips together as soon as he settled in his lap. He tasted his own blood on the prince’s cold lips, and it only made the feeling in his stomach tighter. He ran his hands all over the beautiful porcelain body on top of him, and his teeth started working down the jawline, nipping the soft skin as he went. He stopped just above the collar bone and bit and sucked at the flesh, earning a loud whimper as the prince arched his head back.

Ephraim desired more. He encountered no resistance as he slid the prince’s regal shirt over his head and onto the floor, kissing all over his chest. It made the man in his lap squirm, a motion that drove him mad. The rest of their clothing soon joined the shirt on the floor once Ephraim wrapped his arms around the prince and flipped him on his back, leaving him a panting mess as he kissed and sucked his way down his torso. The prince’s entire body was cold, but Ephraim found he didn’t mind it, especially when soft, delicate fingers entangled themselves in his hair. The icy touch on his warm scalp sent chills down his back and made Ephraim work that much harder to please the prince, not stopping until the prince was practically thrashing on the bed.

It wasn’t until the prince had fled into the night that Ephraim remembered about the vampires’ aphrodisiac. How powerful it was against even the strongest of humans and how it made the victim forget everything they did while under its effects. Was his grandmother’s bloodline really immune to it, or would he wake up with mysterious marks on his neck again and remember nothing of his escapade with the prince? He couldn’t imagine how injecting werewolf blood into one’s veins would be effective against such a potent elixir. He contemplated staying awake forever so he’d never forget that mind-blowing feeling of bliss, but exhaustion got the better of him.

The rough shaking by his sister snapped Ephraim awake. He sat up quickly only to realize he was shirtless (and pants-less under his blankets), and she asked why he was nude, followed by a tired “Never mind, I don’t want to know.” The events of the night before hit him like a falling tree, and he hoped she would leave soon before she had another reason to be disgusted with him. Thankfully, she got off the bed and reminded him to get ready for a hunt as she left the room.

So, he remembered after all. His father had always told him never to question his grandmother’s crazy ways; she wasn’t called a mad genius for nothing. Ephraim wondered if his night was just a dream, but when he looked under his covers, he found his answer. There goes another set to the fire.

Ephraim sat in the bed for a while, trying to wrap his head around what had happened. Did the prince realize he was infatuated with him or was he only following his odd vampire instincts? So many questions flooded his mind, and he decided that preparing for his day would help calm his thoughts. As the day went on, though, they nagged him more and more, but Ephraim refused to let them become a distraction. He chased one of the lowly soldier vampires through the shaded forest for what felt like hours, eventually cornering it against some ancient ruins. Something in him hesitated drawing his stake as he stared into hateful red eyes, and when he finally struck, it was too late. The blood-hungry beast buried its fangs into his shoulder, but it was knocked off him in seconds by his sister leaping out of a tree and plunging her own stake into its heart. She whipped around to face him, sweating pouring from her temples and her chest heaving.

“Brother, what the hell was that?” she barked, her voice cracking with worry.

“S-sorry,” Ephraim mumbled, “I wasn’t feeling well this morning, and I thought I could brush it off. Guess I couldn’t.”

He watched as she resisted the urge to hit him over the head for being so careless, but instead, she moved forward to hug him, tightly gripping the back of his shirt. “The sun is starting to set, anyway,” her tone was shaking. “We should head back to the group.”

She sat on his bed with him, cleaning and dressing his wounds, and Ephraim’s recent interior changes didn’t go unnoticed. “Did you get new bed linens again?” she asked curiously, only taking her eyes off her working hands for a second.

“Just while mine are being washed,” he replied, pitying whatever maid got to scrub his sheets. “I had really bad night sweats.”

“Gross.” She giggled and finished the bandages off with a neat tie. “That should do it.” She patted his shoulder gently before walking to the door, stopping in the threshold. “Please. Don’t be so reckless. If I lost you...”

“I know. I’ll be more careful, I promise.” Once she left, Ephraim threw his legs up on the bed and quickly fell asleep.

Ephraim was again woken up by a hard pinching in his neck, but this time, when he turned to acknowledge the culprit, he was met with more confident eyes. That fear from last night was all but gone. Ephraim couldn’t quite place what emotion was in them. That is, until the prince softly ran his hand over the soiled bandages and whispered, “Who did this?” Was he... angry?

When Ephraim sat up, he pulled the prince onto the bed to sit with him. He never stopped stroking Ephraim’s wounds. “It was just-” How was he supposed to tell this vampire that one of his soldiers had tried to kill him? “It’s just a hunting wound.”

“I can have him punished,” he muttered it so thoughtlessly, Ephraim thought for sure he was joking. When he started chuckling quietly, the prince looked up at him, his serious expression never changing.

“W-well, he’s,” Ephraim gulped. Hard. “He’s dead now. My sister got him.”

The prince said nothing, but he slowly removed the bandages, closely observing Ephraim’s face as he did to make sure he wasn’t hurting him. His eyes flashed with anger for a brief second when he saw the fresh fang-shaped gashes in Ephraim’s shoulder. He brushed them with his fingers so lightly Ephraim barely felt it. “All four fangs. He was going for the kill.” Then, without hesitation, he leaned forward and engulfed the wounds with his own mouth, licking over the holes his underling had caused. And it burned. Ephraim closed his eyes and pretended it didn’t hurt like hell, but the prince moved his hands up to his face, rubbing his thumbs over his cheeks. “All gone.”

Ephraim peeked out of the corner of his eye, and sure enough, the wound that had been seeping just moments earlier was completely sealed. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, but all he managed to get out was a surprised “How-?” before the prince straddled him and pressed cold lips to his. His kiss was gentle and tentative, almost as if he was afraid of causing any more pain, and he placed his hands lightly on either side of his neck. Ephraim wrapped one arm around his waist, the other reaching up to the back of his neck to pull him close and let him know his touch wasn’t going to hurt him. Taking the hint, the prince buried his hands in Ephraim’s hair to deepen the kiss. Ephraim felt like he could stay like that forever.

The night ended just like the one before it, the prince taking off once he’d regained his breath and Ephraim passing out from his exhausting day soon after. When he woke up, the sun was higher up in the sky than normal, and he discovered that he’d been left in the hunters’ base alone. All that was left was a note from his sister telling him to get some rest. He couldn’t sit still for a minute and chose to venture into his father’s study instead. Something was bothering him.

He hunched himself over a pile of research journals and textbooks at the desk, flipping through every one to verify information he already knew deep down. Vampires only need to feed once a week. So why did the prince show up two nights in a row? Ephraim’s face flushed as his mind raced with ridiculous answers. Ridiculous but plausible. He decided reading up on a vampire’s maturity would be a good distraction. It never failed to amaze him how they never reached full maturity until they find a mate. Someone that they cherish above all else and will spend their long lives with. Only then will their fangs grow to full length and their muscles fully develop. Any sexual activity that would normally occur after a feeding victim wakes up would cease, as the vampire only needs their mate, the aphrodisiac venom turning into a sleep elixir.

Before Ephraim could read up on mating and sex again, he heard shouting from the entrance of the base. Stuffing one of the books under the belt of his pants, he ran out of the study and saw his fellow hunters carrying a few of their wounded to the infirmary, his father furiously demanding who was supposed to be keeping record of the moon cycles. The most timid one squeaked out an apology and a panicked “It’ll never happen again.” Ephraim suddenly remembered his supposedly wounded shoulder and hurried back to his room before anyone noticed the absent dressings.

With the vampires’ increased violence the last few days, we should have known the new moon was tonight, Ephraim thought. His mind jumped to the prince. What would he be like under its invigorating effects? Would he even make an appearance tonight?

Ephraim wasn’t sure why he doubted him, but he also didn’t expect the sharp piercing feeling that jerked him out of his light slumber. Much rougher than usual. He prepared himself to face a vampire other than his prince- the prince. Ephraim mentally shook himself out of that thought. What? When he turned over, the lavender-haired vampire was already biting at his collarbone, the crook of his neck, kissing up his jawline and biting his ear. Ephraim inhaled sharply from the unfamiliar roughness, a hot sensation forming immediately in his gut.

“Did we hurt you today?” the prince whispered, the same softness to his tone despite his rugged handling.

“N-no,” Ephraim’s voice wavered as the prince ran his teeth up his neck. “I stayed here to rest since everyone thinks I still have my injuries.”

“Good.” He felt the prince smile against his skin. “I needed you rested.”

Ephraim barely got out a surprised gasp when the prince immediately settled in his lap, him being the one to slide his icy hands under Ephraim’s shirt and up his chest. He told the prince to wait while he took it off, only for him to hum impatiently and tear it open himself, his teeth never once leaving Ephraim’s bruising skin. Ephraim only got him to pull away so he could remove the prince’s shirt (and what was left of his own), and he finally caught a glimpse of those golden eyes. Hard and lustful. Chills rushed down his spine, and Ephraim wanted to take the vampire right then.

It seemed that the prince had other plans.

When Ephraim slithered his arm around the prince’s waist to turn them both over, his hand was slapped away, and he was pushed onto his back instead, moaning quietly as the prince crashed their mouths together. The kissing was rough, all teeth, and Ephraim tried his best to match the prince from his disadvantageous position. He soon learned that the prince had his mouth covered to muffle the loud groan he made when the prince grinded down on him. Hard. Ephraim could hardly contain the noises he made as the biting went further and further down his body, to the inside of his thighs and everything in between. The vampire finished him quickly, turning him into the sweating, spent mess that was usually the other way around. The prince held Ephraim’s chin in his hand, tilting his face up for one more kiss before he vanished into the dark night. Then, Ephraim was alone, wishing the base had been empty so he could have more properly shown the prince just how much he’d enjoyed that.

Things returned to normal the following night (well, as normal as they could be for someone in Ephraim’s position). The prince stared in horror at the marks he’d left as Ephraim slipped his shirt over his head. Ephraim assured him that it was okay, but the prince insisted on kissing every single bruise, apologizing after each peck. Ephraim rested his hand on the prince’s head, stroking his hair as he kissed each mark he found on his upper body. When he was done, he lifted his head to meet Ephraim’s gaze, smiling softly as he asked if he got them all. Ephraim’s face turned red, and he choked out a quiet, “Not all of them.” His neck heated up as his pants were gently pulled down his legs. The prince didn’t stop until his lips had embraced every last mark. Ephraim decided he didn’t mind the prince turning into a complete animal now and then if he got this kind of attention afterward (not that he’d minded it before). Lastly, the prince sat in his lap, cupping his face and placing the most tender kiss on his lips, and looked deep into his eyes as he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Instead of passionately returning the kiss like usual, Ephraim settled on a change of pace, grabbing the prince’s hand and interlacing their fingers. His other hand reached up to the prince’s face to tuck a lock of hair back, gut churning when he saw the ear’s deep red hue. “Will you tell me your name?” he asked cautiously, hand moving down to the prince’s cheek. His heart swelled when the prince turned his head into the touch.

“My name is Lyon,” he said. Ephraim repeated the name under his breath. “What is your name?”

“Ephraim.” Lyon’s golden eyes were warm and calm, and he smiled so shyly as he placed a hand over the one on his face, rubbing his thumb over it. Ephraim wanted that expression burned into his memory forever.

Ephraim lost count of how many times he’d moaned Lyon’s name throughout the night; he was almost convinced that he’d forgotten how to say anything else. Ephraim lay in confusion, his head on Lyon’s chest while his hair was stroked by cold, delicate fingers. Wondering why he hadn’t immediately taken off without a word like he normally did. He didn’t linger for much longer after that, however, and he vanished into the darkness as usual, but only after kissing the palm of Ephraim’s hand.

They spent every night from then on like that, nights eventually turning into weeks. Ephraim found himself worrying about whether Lyon would find his mate soon and stop his visits, but he would shake it from his mind because what a stupid thought to have. To distract himself from those thoughts, he would convince himself he only cared about that because of the sheer pleasure he got from Lyon’s visits. His sexual gratification was the reason why, when he spotted the unsuspecting prince from afar while on a hunt one day, he led his entire group in the opposite direction, claiming to have spotted a soldier fleeing that way. If he told himself he didn’t harbor any feelings for the vampire, the thought of Lyon finding his soulmate wouldn’t hurt so bad.

As the days passed, Ephraim slowly lost interest in hunting. Sure, the soldiers glared at him and his allies with nothing but hate and malice, but he thought about whether they had found the loves of their lives and how heartbroken their mates would be if they didn’t return to them. It sent his mind reeling, and he had to find answers. Why were they even hunting these creatures?

He sought out his father’s best hunter, who had been with the group since Ephraim and his sister were children. He found him in his usual spot in the otherwise empty common area, a single desk off to the side of the room. “Orson,” he began, nervous for an unknown reason, “can I ask you something?”

The man in question looked up from his journal with his tired brown eyes. Empty-looking, as usual. “Ah, Ephraim,” his voice was calm. Too calm. It made Ephraim shiver. “It’s been a while since we’ve actually spoken. Is everything okay?”

“Well, yes and no. I want to know. Why do we hunt vampires? I feel like the more I read about them, the more they seem to be just like us. I just find it hard to kill one when I think about how he might have a wife at home waiting for him.”

Orson merely chuckled and shook his head. “I see you’ve been reading about the mate aspect. Simply put, we hunt them because they hunt us. It’s all a part of the game, my boy.”

A game? Ephraim fought the urge to yell at him. “But why? Why are they hunting us? Don’t they need us humans alive to feed off of? I don’t understand.”

Rolling his shoulders, Orson heaved a long sigh. “I guess you’re old enough to know now. They hunt us because many years ago, I managed to take out their queen. You probably won’t find this in any textbook because it’s not common knowledge, but when a vampire loses their soulmate, one of two things could happen. They could either fall into a hopeless pit of never-ending despair and give up living entirely, or they could turn into a stone-cold ferocious monster, the likes of which you have never seen. The vampire king Vigarde had somehow done both. He’d ceased fighting himself and ordered his underlings to end us at any cost.” His eyes flashed with rage for a moment. “The king would have been easy for me to finish off if the god damn prince hadn’t interfered.” He rested his hand over the scar that peeked out from under his collar. A scar that Ephraim had learned years ago trailed all the way down to his hip, front and back. Lyon had caused that? “I fear what we’d have to face if that beast ever matured.” Ephraim tried not to be aroused at the thought, which was easy considering how furious Orson’s comment made him.

So everything they had to do, all the lives they’ve taken, was all because Orson had killed the queen? “I don’t get it, though. I thought there were two vampire clans, one that was peaceful and moved to their forest to avoid conflict with us humans. Why would you have to kill their queen?”

“If you don’t get it now, I don’t think you ever will. They’re all monsters, Ephraim, monsters that don’t belong in our world.”

Ephraim stood in silence for a moment. “I see. Thank you, Orson.” As soon as he left the room, he clenched his jaw. Lyon wasn’t a monster. Not the gentle prince who cradled his face in his hands like he was holding a baby bird. Who kissed him so softly as he whispered “You have no idea how important this is to me” against his lips. Ephraim’s blood boiled as he stormed into his father’s study, tearing it apart. Fiercely throwing aside any book he’d already scoured twenty times. He’d missed something, overlooked something vital.

He almost missed the tiny red journal that he carelessly tossed over his shoulder.  Almost thought nothing of the carefully written “Darius” that stood alone on the cover. But as he searched through the bookshelves, he suddenly remembered the name Darius. The vampire his grandmother had performed all of her experiments with, and when she had told Ephraim and his sister some of the stories, she always made sure she used the word “with.” Ephraim didn’t understand why until he found her recordings. Darius had been a willing participant in her research, doing anything she asked of him in exchange for being fed, which was conveniently most of what his grandmother had wanted to research. How to prevent the vampire’s aphrodisiac from taking effect if the victim woke up during the feasting. Once he had finished, Darius would purposefully wake his grandmother up to see how she would react. Most of her experiments had failed, and many of her hunters had to hold her back from Darius while she had been in a lascivious, intoxicated state.

She’d also written about a curious young man who had joined her team early on. He’d seemed suspicious enough, but he’d been eager to learn about the forest vampires. Still, she’d kept a close eye on him, especially since he’d somehow convinced the entire group to move their base to the forest to be closer to them. He’d later depart from the team because he’d wanted to hunt the forest vampires.

But that wasn’t something Ephraim was really interested in reading.

His grandmother had learned about the different vampire clans and expressed a keen interest in allying with the benevolent forest vampires. Darius had told her all about the kind-hearted King Vigarde and how he’d left the death-hungry, cave-dwelling vampires behind to create a peaceful clan with his mate and friends.

Then, finally, Ephraim’s heart raced as his grandmother wrote about the mating. She’d asked Darius if there was any difference between a vampire’s sexual attraction and finding their lifelong mate. His eyes had lit up as he described the king and queen. They’d stare into one another’s eyes and look at each other like they were the most important thing in the entire world. He’d heard that when two mates made love, it was like nothing else mattered, like the entire world could come crashing down around them and they wouldn’t care. Before a vampire realizes they’ve found their soulmate, their minds are so clouded with thoughts of them that basic logic fails them entirely. In terms of physical differences, attraction is superficial, so a vampire’s ears get only a slight flush to them when they see someone to whom they’re attracted. A vampire finding their soulmate digs much deeper, and as a result, when they’re with them-Ephraim gulped and the collar of his shirt felt too tight-the ears turn a vibrant cherry red. Ephraim nearly dropped the book, his face turning a shade that matched its cover.

He’d spent so much time with Lyon, he never noticed the transition. The slow lengthening of his fangs, the outline of lean muscle under his pale skin. Ephraim should have known when Lyon suddenly had the strength to flip himself onto his back while taking Ephraim with him. He should have known when Lyon’s bite became just a little more painful and woke him up more easily. The way Lyon looked at him wasn’t something he’d do to someone he only saw as a source of food and sexual pleasure. The way Lyon chose to visit him every single night for weeks now. The realization hit Ephraim like the entire base had collapsed on him. His heart pounded in his ears. He hid his grandmother’s journal in his shirt and cleaned up the mess of books in a daze.

Lyon had never questioned how Ephraim remembered him and their nightly escapades, and it finally made sense why. When he told Ephraim how important “this” was to him, Lyon didn’t realize that he meant Ephraim. His thoughts flooded as the pieces all came together.

Ephraim didn’t sleep that night. He stayed awake, waiting for the prince to show up, and when he did, he didn’t even acknowledge that Ephraim wasn’t sleeping like usual. He just smiled the way that warmed Ephraim to the core, saying his name in the most loving tone and taking both of his hands in his. Ephraim finally noticed the slight muscular definition of his forearms peeking out from under his long sleeves. “Are you alright, Ephraim?” Lyon asked, squeezing his hands.

Ephraim rose off the bed, never letting go of Lyon’s hands, and touched their foreheads together. “I’m fine,” he said. How is it that he feels so relaxed around this “monster” while being around one of his allies puts him on edge? “Can I ask you something? Why do you come here every single night? What do you think of me that it brings you here every night?”

“W-well,” Lyon nervously looked away, “I just... You’re all I need in the world. Ever since I first saw you...” Ephraim watched in amusement as he stuttered out ridiculous sentences and phrases that probably wouldn’t make sense to anyone else. So he really wouldn’t realize that he was in love with him until he reached full maturity.

Ephraim found it strange that these creatures were so human but so different at the same time.

Orson shouting in the hallway was what woke Ephraim. He heard that Orson had claims of “big news” and a “game changing” strategy. After everyone was ready, they all gathered in the meeting room, where Orson waited, a sinister grin on his face.

“My intelligence has gathered information that could win us this war once and for all,” he announced. “The best way to draw out the king is to harm his family, yes? Of course, the only family he has left is his son. I’ve been informed that the prince has found a mate, but only recently, as he has not fully matured. If we find this mate and finish it off, the prince’s head is as good as ours, which means the king will soon follow.”

Ephraim’s head began spinning, but he remained as stoic-looking as possible. If anybody caught on, who knew what would happen to Lyon? If they knew that one of their own had fallen in love with a vampire...

“As we all know,” Orson continued, “the king is already vulnerable, since a vampire losing its mate is the worst heartbreak it can ever experience. Losing his son should finish him off for good.”

Ephraim’s heart screamed for him to say something, but as long as they believed the prince was in love with another vampire, Lyon would be safe, Ephraim having told him the night before to stay in his castle during their hunting time. Still, he had to warn him. While everyone made preparations to depart, Ephraim hurried outside, taking a deep breath of cool air to clear his head. He wasn’t alone for long, though.

“Ephraim,” his sister’s voice behind him startled him.

“Eirika!” he choked as his heart leapt into his throat.

“What’s with you lately?” she demanded. “You haven’t hunted alone since you were attacked by that vampire, and you’re just acting weird!”

“I know,” he relaxed his shoulders and sighed. “There’s just a lot going on right now. I’m really confused about why we have to hunt the vampires. It’s getting in my head and driving me mad!” Eirika moved toward him and rested her hand on his shoulder. “They act just like us, Eirika. They have families, friends. They feel pain and emotions just like we do. So why...?”

“I don’t know, either, Brother,” her toned softened. “I do know that they are threatening my family and my friends, and I will fight to protect them. It’s just how things are right now. Maybe it will change someday.”

“I hope so.”

Their fellows hunters joined them outside in front of the base, interrupting their conversation. It was time for them to go. Ephraim dreaded the day that was ahead of him.

He wasted most of his morning hours trying to find the castle, all efforts in vain. He grew shakier and weaker with each passing minute, worried to death for Lyon’s safety. His sister unexpectedly showed up at his side.

“Ephraim! I’ve been trying to catch up with you!” she panted heavily. “You can’t be serious about going off alone again!”

“I’m sorry, but there’s something I have to do,” he replied quickly. “And you can’t come with me.” He turned to face her and took one of her hands in his. “If I die, I need you to do something important.”

All the blood drained from her face. “W-what are you talking about, Brother? You’re not dying on me! You can’t...”

“Eirika, please. If I die, you need to find the prince. You need to be the one to kill him, and when you do, tell him about our grandmother’s bloodline, okay?”

“Okay, but wait-”

He was gone before she even finished her sentence, rushing through the woods, desperately searching for any signs of a castle. Something. Anything. He needed to see that Lyon was unharmed, but if some vampire grunt got the better of him, he needed to know that Lyon would never suffer with such pain like his father had. Just thinking about it made Ephraim sick to his stomach.

He stumbled upon Orson, who had just killed another vampire, the dark blood splattered on his face and clothes. “Orson!” he shouted, stopping behind him as he wiped himself clean.

He spun around immediately, his soulless eyes glaring through Ephraim. “Ephraim, there’s no time,” he hurried. “This one just held me off so his little prince could escape. He ran off in that direction. Follow him while I fetch the others!”

Ephraim’s eyes widened. Why did he leave the castle? “R-right!” Heart pounding, he followed Orson’s direction.

He swore he heard the man growl “Farewell, Ephraim” but he was too focused on Lyon’s safety to dwell on it.

Maybe he should have.

The man he encountered in the clearing could have been Lyon to unfamiliar eyes, but he knew. The shoulders were too broad, the hair too long and just a touch too dark. He turned around, and Ephraim had never felt fear like this before. His tired, golden eyes were outlined by dark bags.

“Y-you’re-” he gasped in shock, but the imposing man cut him off.

“So you humans think this is a game?” he said, his tone fierce but cool as ice. He started in Ephraim’s direction, hands clasped behind his back, not stopping until Ephraim was cornered against a tree. “You come into my forest, murder my beloved in front of my very eyes, and then start slaughtering my people left and right. Now, you have the gall to kill my only son? He was all I had left in this world, and you took him from me!”

Ephraim should have fought back once the king grabbed his shirt and slammed him against the tree, but he felt so lost, so hopeless. Lyon can’t be... “N-no, I didn’t-”

“Silence! I should have obliterated you all myself when you took my queen from my side. It ends now. I’ll tell your friend Orson thanks for the tip off of who killed my son, but I’ll still be sending him to join you in hell shortly.”

Maybe Ephraim should have dwelled on his ally’s parting words. Should have taken his grandmother’s final written sentence to heart.

Never trust a young man named Orson.

yeah i was so tired and excited to post i forgot abt how vigarde is like not surprised to see lyon in the first fic but basically he learns that hes still alive like soon after this (but not for long)

[seliph]

this is so gay im in too deep.

so for anyone whos confused naesala/leonardo was a ship that happened in one of our fe epic mafia games. not sure how it started but it did and it snowballed. hard.

so this fic is just them being mega gay. no one beta'd it and it probably doesnt do eithr character justice but i dont care. i dont care i said id write leonaesa and i god damn did and it ended up even longer than my ephlyon fic how sad is that

The world around the army’s makeshift base was silent. Too silent, almost. Leonardo had been assigned to night watch countless times before, but none of them had been anything like this. The enemy could literally appear out of thin air, and how does one even prepare for that? He couldn’t decide whether to sit with his bow drawn or stand ready to run into the base and wake everyone. He eventually settled on walking around the entire building, ears as attentive as a human’s could be. He heard the large wings of his partner above him, but he jumped when the bird man’s smooth hand slid around his shoulders.

“You know,” his smoky voice was loud compared to the unnerving silence, “these soldiers can show up in the blink of an eye. Even if you keep your weapon ready, there’s no way you can take them all out yourself.”

Leonardo hoped the man couldn’t see how flushed his ears were. “I-I know that, Naesala,” he said quietly, trying to avoid the attention of an enemy that wasn’t there. “I just figured maybe I could take a few of them out while you woke everybody up or something. How does the perimeter look?”

Sensing that his movements would get him nowhere with the tiny beorc (for now anyway), Naesala removed his arm from the boy’s shoulder, running his hand through his hair instead. “Fine, fine. Not that we’d be able to see them, since they like to show up unannounced.” He set his hand on Leonardo’s head and turned it to face him. “What’s with you? Your maiden friend said you were an excellent night watch when you were just a ragtag group of street rats.”

“It was different then.” Leonardo turned the rest of his body. “I could hear the Begnion soldiers coming, and even then, we never had to fight them. I just had to get into our base and warn everyone so we could quietly sneak out the back. But now.” He let out a heavy sigh. “We’re surrounded before we even ready ourselves for battle. There’s nowhere to hide. And so much senseless bloodshed.”

Naesala’s arm returned to Leonardo’s small shoulders, guiding him to the front stoop of one of the cabins. “Well, walking in circles tiring yourself out isn’t going to help anyone. If we’re attacked tonight, we’ll still be surprised no matter what, so let’s sit. Rest. Ashera knows we need it.”

Ashera, Leonardo thought. She’s the reason we’re in this mess. Still, he didn’t mind having the great bad Raven King fussing over him, assuring him that if they were caught off guard, he’d be there to help. Reminding him that he wasn’t alone anymore.

They spent hours talking. About the war and how Leonardo lost his family to it, how he found a new family in the Dawn Brigade, and how Daien got wrapped up in the war with the Laguz Alliance. It eventually led to talk of Naesala’s betrayal and how he had ascended to Kilvas’ throne despite all odds being against him. They bonded over the desire to eliminate their common enemy, Naesala commenting on how badly he needed to see the life leave that miserable bastard’s eyes. He pretended not to notice the hint of red on Leonardo’s cheeks as he brought his wing around him to keep him warm. A Daien beorc having any sort of feelings for a subhuman abomination like him was good for a laugh, but if he thought too much of it, well...

Naesala had Leonardo smiling and sharing happier stories by sunrise, when their silver-haired leader came out to relieve them, telling them to get an hour’s rest before the group set out again. After that night, they’d only been assigned to one other night watch together, albeit a short one, as their golden enemies appeared around them not 20 minutes into the night. Naesala tried to keep the beorc out of his mind, and in the heat of battle, it was easy. Being assigned to sit awake at night with his much chattier friend was a different story. His conversations were riddled with talk of Leonardo, and Naesala was almost convinced that the boy had enlisted his friend to get into his head.

Their journey eventually landed them in front of the tower of the goddess herself. The commanders conversed amongst themselves, deciding which of their elite soldiers would be fighting inside the overwhelming structure. The maiden then hurried around the camp to the chosen ones, Naesala and Leonardo included, telling them to make final preparations and join the others at the tower’s entrance.

Naesala could hardly believe his ears.

“You want me to what?”

“Kiss it,” Leonardo said so innocently as he held one of his arrows up to Naesala’s face. “For good luck.”

He couldn’t say no to that face even if he wanted to. “I mean, don’t you think it’s silly?” he sighed, placing his lips on the sharp arrowhead anyway. “Why me?”

Leonardo said nothing else, only shrugging his shoulders, and tied a small red ribbon to the arrow before returning it to the quiver. Naesala figured it was some odd beorc ritual and thought nothing else of it.

The first battle inside the tower was fierce, the fanatic soldiers relentless. Naesala flew back and forth across the battlefield, chasing the foul senator who taunted him and the maiden with those accursed pieces of parchment. Naesala could practically hear the crimson signature of his predecessor laughing at him as the bloated old man warped yet again to another corner.

Naesala never saw the small beorc coming. He paused for a second to rest his wings when a gray blur flew past him in the direction of the senator. In one fluid movement, Leonardo’s hands grabbed on to the ribbon-marked arrow as he ricocheted off a statue into the air, making quick eye contact with Naesala before focusing on his aim. The beginning of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he drew the arrow, landing it perfectly between the senator’s eyes.

Leonardo reached the corpse first, shamelessly digging through the sweaty robes to retrieve the life-destroying pacts. He could be disgusted later. First, he handed Daien’s pact to his commander, who immediately tore it in half, then he found the second pact and rushed it to the Raven King, who was still stunned by what he’d just witnessed. He was even more floored by the slight smile on Leonardo’s flushed face as he presented him with a second pact, rolled up and held together by the red ribbon.

Naesala sighed with relief as he took the cursed paper, taking care to hold onto the ribbon as he opened the scroll. The mocking laughter in his head ceased as soon as he ripped it in half, the pieces burning to ash.

Leonardo waited patiently for Naesala to say something. “Thank you” or “How can I ever repay you?” What he got instead was a long finger sliding up his chin ever so gently, tilting his head up so Naesala could steal a kiss of gratitude. “For good luck,” he whispered and tied the ribbon around his dark hair.

Perhaps this battle won’t be so tough after all.

alternative ending is naesala tying the ribbon in leonardos hair and saying 'youre my present this apocalypse' and then they yaoi

i mean they yaoi anyway but

[seliph]

this fic is called 'i can never face my family again' and its the vampire lyon fic ive been talking abotu writing for like two weeks. its kinda raunchy and gets slightly gorey at the end and i wrote it after an overnight shift so well see how it goes

i originally jsut planned for it to be lyon being creepy and it turned into. well. this

It all started for one reason: sustenance. Just like his father taught him, Lyon had snuck into the twins’ house to suck the girl’s blood. Just like his kind was supposed to. But curiosity got the better of him, and he quickly found himself in the brother’s room. The girl’s blood was sweet, but something about the way her brother’s broad shoulders connected to his neck made it too enticing to pass up.

The first time he encountered the twins, they were in his woods with their father searching for the hidden castle of monsters, crossbows in hand and wooden stakes pocketed at their sides. He followed the young teal-haired man as he chased one of his servants through the trees. Lyon watched how sleek his movements were, graceful even though the man could probably care less. The vengeful look in his eyes and the twitching of his muscles under his shirt as he drove that stake right through the heart sent chills up Lyon’s spine. He didn’t know it then, but that scene sparked an insatiable curiosity in Lyon’s naive mind.

Father warned him. Told him to only choose a young maiden, for the venom that replaces the human blood during feasting is a short-lived but powerful aphrodisiac. However, Lyon knew how gentle his touch was, how featherlight his fingers were as they slid the collar down from the nape of the man’s neck. His seemingly youthful skin was softer than a baby’s, so the man would barely feel Lyon’s lips brushing against him, sharp teeth a small pinch as they pierced his skin. He never stirred.

Lyon grew more adventurous every night, moving further down the man’s shoulder or more up his neck. He began to suck harder. Never visibly affecting him save for two small holes in his skin wasn’t enough for Lyon. Soon, his actions elicited stirring and sleeping groans, a noise that shot right to his very core and made him question who was taking in the aphrodisiac.

That fateful night, the man’s soft moans were louder than ever, and Lyon thought nothing of it until he felt long fingers working their way through his long lavender hair. Lyon choked back a gasp as they moved to his face and pulled him up to stare into fierce blue eyes. The expression in them was nothing he’d ever seen before. It wasn’t that hateful look like when the man’s on the hunt, nor the satisfied relief after a kill. A shaky breath escaped Lyon as those beautiful eyes pierced his soul. He had never feared the man until that moment. His body was so frozen he didn’t even notice the strong arms wrapping around him and pulling him onto the bed and into the man’s lap. Lyon barely had time to register what was happening before warm human lips smothered his and those beautiful calloused hands snaked up his shirt. The lips moved down to his neck, and Lyon let out the most undignified noise once those blunt teeth began working on his translucent skin.

And those hands. Those magical hands were all over his body and made it feel like he was on fire. Up his back, on his chest, in his hair, driving him wild. All Lyon could imagine was the father killing him on the spot for being with his son this way. The thought of it made his lustful high even more intense. He decided that if he died like this, he would be perfectly okay with that.

Each visit after ended the same way. Although, Lyon began experimenting with his bite, using it to pleasure his human toy the way he had instead of only feeding himself. The dread of the father discovering them remained in the back of his mind every night he spent with the man, though, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Lyon would be on his back squirming as his plaything worked his way down his chest, then everything would stop so the human could ask if everything was okay and say that he seemed distant. Only after receiving a gentle pat on the head and reassurance that Lyon was fine would he continue. He’d never let him know that his father was a serious mood-killer.

Lyon should have known that the human father wouldn’t be the problem.

He had no idea what to expect when his father summoned him to the throne room, promising a surprise that would throw the hunters through a loop. He certainly wasn’t expecting his father to proudly be holding his lover’s severed head like a trophy and talking about how the leader would be easy to eliminate after the loss of his beloved son. His plans to go after the daughter next went directly over Lyon’s head. His knees nearly buckled under him, and the second his father finished talking, he excused himself and fled the castle. He had to find the girl. She was his only option.

She found him before he even smelled her. An arrow shot through his shoulder and sent him to the ground, and Lyon finally had an excuse to wail in pain. The girl kicked him around to face her and held a stake to his throat, her red and puffy eyes glaring molten hate into Lyon’s soul. She demanded last words from him, but all he could manage were quivering breaths and a slow shake of his head. His instincts were screaming to fight for his life. You have the means; use them.

“Since you’re the prince and all, I’ll let you in on a little secret before you die,” she spat, a smug grin forming despite the tears flowing down her cheeks. “That disgusting love potion you put in us when you suck our blood doesn’t affect my family.”

Lyon’s body was found staked against a tree with a peaceful smile on his face.