Halfblood [King|Alber × Reader]

Three

You can't answer until he lets go of the carved wood. Your heartbeat strangely slows down for the first time since you are here.

King sits down next to you. His features stay soft as the red eyes rest on the pattern.

"I thought Lunarians are related to the Moon," you say quietly, watching the mesmerizing movements of his wings. They are the most beautiful things you have ever seen. The man scowls as you disturb his calm once again. "Why is it about the Sun and the Moon?"

He looks at you, and you cast down your eyes when you can't stand his gaze.

"Our tales teach that these wings are a gift from the Moon," he answers. "But our fire comes from the Sun, just as the Moon's light. It's a reflection. Lunarians believe that our kind was born from the reflection of the sky. We share dark skin, red eyes like flames, and hair like the stars. It's a present you didn't receive and will never experience."

You don't react, and King sighs, turning away from you.

"We have a special connection to nature," continues the man. "It gives us power and tells us how to use it. We became the strongest tribe in the world. Long before Mariejois, the 'Kingdom of Gods' ruled the Red Continent. We were respected and feared but offered protection to other tribes."

"Then what happened?"

His whole body tenses up, and you see the sharp jawline turning even more emphatic.

A dark, sorrowful shadow falls over his eyes, hiding their bright gleaming.

"Humans," he growls. "Most of us were wiped out by the time I was born. There are still fields of winged skeletons throughout the past home. And one by one, they killed everyone else. Our buildings collapsed, and our history started to vanish with us. By the time I remember, there were only two of us left."

King suddenly freezes, and his lips stay open for a second. You see a vein appear on his neck. His breath stops.

The enormous wings move up and down slightly, like a subconscious reaction as he wants to leave.

You shiver and your muscles tense as the suspense in the air turns heavy and thick.

But you still ask back.

"Two?"

A wave of pain runs over his face, so deep and desperate that you can't move, talk, or feel anything.

King touches the tattoo around his left eye. His white hair hides his features as he leans forward.

The next time he speaks, his voice is calm and collected again.

"A carving like this spread through the walls of the Great Hall of Lunarians," he says, and your heart drops as he ignores your question. "It was the greatest art of ours. This is a mere shadow that I managed to create to remember."

You decide to go along and push your curiosity back before you would anger him.

"What happened to the real one?"

"It was destroyed by the time I left the Red Line," answers the man. "But I learned from it as a child."

You bethink for a second and look at your hands.

Learned.

King turns to you again, and you avoid his gaze.

"You could follow the dance, but it can't teach you because you aren't pure Lunarian," he says. "Just as I told you before, you don't have our fire."

Your eyes widen as you understand.

"It teaches how to create fire?"

An almost invisible, soft smile spreads on his lips. You hate how beautiful it is.