Slade puts his nose against my neck.
"What is this smell?" He rumbles.
Dion waves his hands. "Called it."
"Shut the hell up, Dion."
"Hey—"
"Listen to your mother," Slade booms.
Dion shifts uneasily. "Yes, Sir," he looks away with a grumble.
"I'm not his mother,"
Slade frowns. "Then how..."
"Don't think about it too hard, sweetheart." I pat his shoulder.
He frowns but tucks his face into my shoulder. Slade has been getting close to me. He pressed his face into my chest often, it's his favorite thing.
That...and he presses his forehead against mine, his eyes on mine. His hand presses against mine. He's careful with me, making sure not to scratch me.
When I look into his eyes...my heart burns with the pain in them. Like everything is just out of reach. Like this one moment, he knows what he's missing is so close.
And he can't grasp it.
Dion groans. "You two are so...can you stop?"
"Go to your room," Slade demands.
Dion frowns. "This is my...I'm you know, what old man? I'm done. I'm going—"
"Go."
"You're mean to me you know that?" Dion complains about standing. "I stand and I guard her all day, and she cursed me. I come here and you two...couple all over me."
Dion cursed.
"You are a bad kid," Slade gruff.
"Well, you are a...bad god! Why are there no wars huh?"
Slade throws a pillow at him. "Go! Go sleep!"
"Oh, I'm going! You're the worst, Slade!"
Slade throws another pillow. "Less talking more walking!"
Dion frowns, shutting the door behind him. I see a flash of red. A cape. My lips tug up.
I smile at him. "You should be nice to Dion. He's...he misses you. And I'm mean to him for you and one of us has got to be nice to him."
Slade grunts but doesn't agree or disagree.
"And I am not a kid. I'm 219 years old, may I add, and I will be treated like an adult—"
Dion stops when confronted with a pillow to his face.
He looks down. "Okay, I'm gonna go."
I elbow Slade who frowns. I nod my head to Dion. Slade shakes his in confusion.
Be nice, I mouth.
Slade motions to him, waving his hands in helplessness.
"Wait," Slade says.
Dion paused. "Let me guess I'm a bad kid, and for the next two hundred years I have to tend to the roses."
Slade frowns. "No." He stands, and Slade's hand comes down on Dion's head. "You are an okay kid. You just talk too much."
"Just okay?" Dion raises his brow.
Slade sighs. "Troublesome. Go to sleep. Don't children have to go to bed early?"
"I state again, I'm centuries older than your wife so you calling me a child is just weird."
Slade frowns. "You are a child to me. She is a woman to me. I did t raise her. You...you are my child. So go sleep."
Dion narrows his eyes. "Old man?"
Slade narrows his back.
"You don't hate me? Not even a little?"
"Why would I hate you? Are you not my child?"
Dion looked away. "No...I'm not. I'm just some orphan you picked one day. A soldier remember?"
Slade retracts his claw, pushing his finger into his chest.
"Inside you, is my power. You are my descendant. I chose you. So you are not an orphan, because you are a child of mine. It wasn't by accident, and maybe I don't remember, but I chose you."
Dion sniffs looking away. "Old man, you're really sentimental. Y'know that?"
"Once again, I do not know." Slade hits his back awkwardly, turning him around.
"Goodnight, little human. Sleep well, rest so you can grow."
"I'm actually done growing."
Slade paused with a frown. "Really? Are you sure?" He glanced back at me, raising his brow.
I laugh and nod.
"Ah. That's unfortunate. Come, come,"
He shuts the door, laying next to me. "You smell odd. Like someone else. What is that smell please explain very quickly to me."
I touch my neck. "That? The King probably?"
Slade cocks his head. "King...why he so close to you? This is a very strong scent. Like he's lingering around you. Why? Explain quickly?"
I sigh. "Well I told you, the King and Queen are close. So...I have to spend time with him. But not because I like him. I plan on killing him actually."
"How soon? Is it very soon? This scent is irritating," he nudged me, his fingers stroking my neck. "I can kill him right now."
I shake my head. "No. Don't kill him. I have to kill him when the time is right."
"When is that? Is it soon?" He demands.
"Holjin,"
The ceiling changes, and a picture appears. "Holjin thinks this the moment."
I'm in his bed. The King's in a white dress. Wedding it seems like. He's dead, a knife in his chest with a rose on the hilt.
My knife.
"You look very undressed, little wife,"
I glance at him. "Yes I do, don't I?"
He frowns. "I like this."
Neither do I. But...it's what I have to do.