Alastor Darius Asmodeus had never met his King. Or at least, he had never heard his voice. He'd seen his form, woven into the tapestries that covered his palace, Oryx's winged form blessing his ancestors on that high rock, hundreds of years ago. He hadn't heard his voice until his mate had given birth to his child, it was only then that the King spoke to him. He whispered of death and havoc, he whispered of power strong enough to rid their entire kind from the earth. Oryx, in his horrible, dark voice, had promised him it would be true, if the boy continued to walk the earth.
Alastor had done what he could, ever faithful to his king, he had done all he could bear. He'd sent the boy into so much danger it was a wonder he'd come back, but still the whispers continued. They drove him mad, until he'd cast him out, sent him to die, and then finally they had stopped.
He had not heard his king in years, not even when the boy returned to the clan, to reestablish his place within it. Oryx had not spoken to him then, either, not until his final day. Alastor had failed his kingdom, he had failed his people, and he had failed his own King. His life, and the lives of his people would be the price. The price for the boy's life.
The final words of his King echoed in his ears as he felt his life draining away. "I wonder, Alastor, would you son have still sought to destroy me if he had known who would perish instead?" The voice had torn at him, just as it had for years, shredding his very being with every hateful breath. Perhaps it was a good thing his son had been alive to end him. Perhaps it was a price they all had to pay, for following such a horrid god. "Everyone he ever loved, gone, and you are to blame for that pain." It was enough to drive a stake into his heart, because he knew the words were to be true. He had been responsible for all his son's pain, for his own mate's pain as well, when Oryx's words had driven him to hate, to hurt, to fear. He knew they would never forgive him. He knew they never should.
Tessa awoke the next day laying in a fat beam of sunlight. Damian was gone from the bed, his spot long since gone cold as she stretched out across it, winding the flannel sheets a bit tighter around her. Where he had been, she found a handwritten note, addressed to her in Damian's messy handwriting. She yawned, rolling onto her back to read it.
Tessa,
Ikora's called me off to Mars so she can teach me about controlling my light a bit more. She says it's going to take a while, likely most of the day. I should be back late this evening.
I wanted to run this by you, yesterday Ikora told us we should get away and I was thinking we should probably head back to the Skotadi. I'd understand if you don't want to, of course, but I was thinking about heading out tomorrow. We'd be back before the day of the Dawning, so not a super long trip. You can contact Kylie or let me know when I get back tonight. I'll see you soon.
Love, Damian
She smiled as she reached the end, beside the closer, he'd drawn a lopsided heart. Reading the last word before his name, her heart had fluttered in a way she once would have called foolish, or even dumb, but it sent her mind back to the night before. She loved him, traveler, she loved him. The words had slipped out the night before, but she realized she'd never spoken a truer statement. She let out a sigh, the sigh of a love-struck idiot, but she didn't mind it, in fact she enjoyed it. She hardly realized Echo hovering over her until she opened her eyes again and sat up, nearly bumping into him.
"Are you mad about what I told him?" Echo asked, taking her aback. She frowned, having to backtrack in order to realize what he was saying. In order to realize she was talking about her first death.
She shook her head. "No, I'm not angry." She told him, to which the ghost looked relieved. "I would have rather told him myself, but I can understand why you told him when you did." She said. "I just wish I could be there for him more, that I could help him more."
"You may not think so, but you help him plenty. Kylie and I have been noticing the way you two help each other out. He gives you strength, you give him an anchor." He explained to her. "You complement each other." Tessa smiled at that, and a few moments of silence passed before Echo spoke again. "You love him." He said, though it was still a bit of a question, waiting for her to confirm it.
Her cheeks flushed as she smiled at him. "I do." She said, "I mean, I've never loved anyone before like this, do you think I told him too early?" She asked him. "Do you think he felt... pressured to say it back?"
Echo's frame shook from side to side as though he were shaking his head. "No." He said firmly, "Damian is honest, if he didn't love you he wouldn't have said it back. I know that much for sure."
She nodded and sighed, deep in the back of her mind, she'd known so as well. But hearing it from another person soothed something inside her, especially since Damian was gone so soon after she'd told him. She knew it didn't correlate, but worry was an infection, quelled only by her constant reminders to shove it away.
"You're right." She said, sitting up and tossing the blankets off her as she climbed out of the bed. "Let's go see about my dress."
Tessa, happy to go for a walk through the city, showered, dressed and headed out about an hour later. She shopped for the upcoming Dawning, searching for gifts for her friends to make the celebration a little brighter. Unfortunately, she didn't find anything that really struck her as meaningful gifts for her friends, but she realized that if they were going into the Skotadi territory in the next few days, she might be able to buy them weapons from the blacksmith there, and perhaps Damian could help her infuse them with light.
She was able to find herself a few sweaters she liked and even a scarf, as well as a few simple items she thought would be nice around her apartment. Thankfully, she enjoyed a bit more success on the gift front than she had in the beginning of her outing, and her luck continued from there. When she made it to the tailor where she'd gotten her dress, Serena told her the dress had already been paid for and that she couldn't return it- not that Tessa had wanted to.
***
Damian returned late that evening, and they left for the Skotadi territory the next morning. They'd flown the ship as far as they could, then had docked the ship and Damian had flown them most of the way in, though they were forced to stop earlier than they would have liked due to harsh winds and snow. Tessa didn't mind it, though, as they were able to find a cave not too far out of their way, and when Tessa explored it, she found a hot spring bubbling not too far in, the water warm, though a bit smelly.
"Will you be able to control your light without a bond once we make it into the territory?" Tessa asked Damian as she sat within the pool, the heat pushing the cold that had seeped into her bones after the long day.
"I should be okay." Damian said, laying on the ground a few feet away, his wings spread over a patch of snow he'd brought in to numb their aching before he would join her in the spring without them.
"How?" Tessa asked, her tone a bit prodding. He smiled at her, at her not believing him. He didn't believe himself either.
"Well," He said, shifting a bit and letting out a sigh as a bone cracked underneath him, "I enjoy night flights and the nearby cliffs are prone to lightning storms." He told her.
She laughed, the sound echoing in the space. Traveler, he loved her. If she hadn't said it first the other night, after that awful party, he would have, he was sure of it. The words had been just a moment off his lips, like she'd stolen them from him, not that he minded, of course. Kylie had gushed about it to him on his way to Mars. He'd never seen her gush like that, over him and Tessa. It was endearing, even when all her talk brought to mind his worries of rushing Tessa, of messing something up. Every day, every touch brought him wanting more. He felt like he and Tessa were connected somehow, her very being drawing him in, bringing him closer in ways he'd never experienced before. He would wait for her, of course, but he wanted her, and more than that he wanted to be hers. He couldn't hope to explain it.
He grinned at her, rolling over onto his stomach as he folded his numb wings on his back, willing them to vanish in the light as he crawled to the lip of the pool. She met him there, cupping his face with her hands and leaning in to kiss his lips.
"I love you." He told her with a grin, and she grinned right back, leaning forward to plant a kiss on his lips.
"I love you, too." She said, reaching out to take his hands from where they gripped the lip of the pool. She tugged him gently, until he crawled forward and climbed into the pool with her, pulling her onto his lap and taking her face in his hands. His lips met hers, again and again. He could have sat like that forever, just kissing her.
***
Tessa awoke screaming, tearing off the blankets she'd draped over her to cancel out the chill of the freezing night. She scrambled a few feet in the darkness, gasping and heaving as the contents of her stomach threatened to come up. She struggled to tell nightmare from reality, her hands scrambling for a weapon until she found her sword beside her bedroll. Pain lashed her fingers and hot blood met her, pooling on her hands, dripping down her wrists, smearing on her face when she shoved her wet, half frozen hair out of her way. It was so dark, the only light coming from the stars hanging above the entrance of the cave. It seemed so far away.
She struggled towards that light, but the darkness around her felt physical, like the monsters that haunted her nightmares. It lunged and grabbed at her, but she couldn't feel the claws anymore, she couldn't feel them tearing at her skin. Only the cold and the blade bit at her, the icy stone floors of the cave hostile on her bare feet as she stumbled towards those stars, leading the way out.
Flames broke out somewhere across from her, light exploding into the cavern. Damian set a glowing torch down, joining it with a few logs from nearby. He watched her, his hands out as she gasped, as she searched the cavern with her eyes. No thrall, no hive. Nothing. No one but him.
The sword clattered out of her hands and she slumped to the ground, her shoulders shaking as tears slipped down her cheeks. Her hands went to her face and she didn't care as the blood from the cuts mixed with her tears. Neither did Damian, it seemed, as she felt his arms go around her softly, and he pulled her into his lap, surrounding her in his embrace. He held her for as long as she needed. Until she stopped crying, until the nightmare faded from her mind. He carried her over to the hot spring, setting her down beside it and finding a cloth to clean her face with, cleaning her hands and her arms and her neck. He then wrapped her hands in bandages, kissing her knuckles gently as he reminded her she was okay, and that she was safe.
Her nightmare was among many that had plagued them since they'd defeated Oryx. She knew without asking they'd both grown accustomed to sleeping light to awaken when the other did, or when the other didn't but thrashed with nightmares. During their week working on Dark-Drinker, she'd worked to exhaust herself as much as she could bear, hoping they might stay away, but her efforts had always been fruitless. The nightmares had always come.
Thankfully, so had Damian, just as she came to him. He held her for as long as she needed, and then after. After he'd cleaned her wounds, he helped her back to their bedrolls, where she tucked herself against him and just breathed, until she fell asleep with him.
***
They reached the Skotadi the next afternoon, though without a dramatic entrance this time. As it turned out, they didn't need it. As soon as they neared the territory, Damian felt something was off. The patrols around the border had been disrupted, larger teams flew, groups of two or three patrolling an area that usually only required one. Not only that, but they were off schedule, the guards leaving and arriving at poorly coordinated times, not fixed to the usual sunup, noon, sundown, and midnight rotations.
When they flew above the village, hardly anyone was out. The streets were empty, shutters drawn, black clothes hung from the noble's windows. Something was wrong. Something was defiantly wrong.
Torak met them where they landed, and Damian felt a part of himself heave a sigh of relief, but from the pinched look on the warrior's face, it was short lived.
"What happened?" Damian demanded, as soon their feet had brushed the ground.
"It's your father." Torak said, his voice matching the pinched look of his face. "The king is dead."
"I don't think you ever truly knew your father." Torak told them as they stood in the king's room. Torak had told him with a bit more hesitance that his mother had commit suicide the night he had died, just over a week ago.
"What do you mean?" Damian asked. The bodies had been removed from the bedroom, stashed in a room the guards had filled with snow to keep the bodies cold before their burial. Damian had only ever been in this room once, while he'd been old enough to remember it. He'd come in seeking his mother's comfort after a nightmare, having heard other children speaking of similar things. His father had called his guards to bring him back to his room before he'd gotten more than a few words out.
"After he fell ill, he called me to his bedside." Torak told him, "He told me you... you killed Oryx. But he said he was glad for it. He said he'd always cared for you, and that he'd never wished to hurt you." Damian was glad it had been Torak, and that they were alone in the room, Tessa lingering by the door as she listened.
"Not all of what he said made sense," Torak continued, "But I think Oryx knew that you were going to kill him. Your father said he spoke to him, he told him to kill you when you were young. It's why you were banished, or at least that's what he said."
Damian glanced back to where Tessa stood in the doorway, a question in his gaze. He watched her read his eyes, then study Torak for a long moment before she nodded to him.
"Torak." He said finally, looking back to the warrior. "There's something I need to tell you, but I can't do it here." He told him.
Torak nodded. "Anywhere."
The king's bedroom had been dark, even in the middle of the day, just as he'd remembered it. The room had been cold, the fireplace hadn't been lit after the bodies had been found. The whole room had felt... imposing. As if his father's spirit still lingered in the room. But what Torak had said, that his father hadn't wished to hurt him, he could hardly fathom it. He'd never felt more hated, more rejected, more wrong. How could his father have not wished to hurt him? And what he'd said about Oryx, could it have even been possible? Damian didn't want to consider. He didn't want to consider that Oryx could be so powerful and could see so far into the future that he could have possibly seen that Damian would have something to do with his death. And if he could, what traces had he left here? Surely he couldn't have only spoken to Damian's father. Would he have sensed Tessa? Would he have planted someone here for her as well?
Damian was silent on the flight out of the territory. Thankfully, Tessa didn't pressure him as he held her in his arms. She squeezed his hand though, holding it tightly as if to remind him that she was there, and ready if he needed her. He was grateful for it, too. He could hardly tell what was going on in his head, and with what he was about to tell Torak, he would need her support. And if he was going to be king? He shoved the thoughts from his mind, before they could fester.
He began to slow, and they landed gently on top of a high grassy hill, overlooking the territory at a distance. They didn't need to be out of sight, only out of earshot. He set Tessa down in the grass gently, though he laced his hand with hers, his heart pounding in his chest. He could almost hear her telling him it was going to be okay, that Torak is going to be okay with it.
He watched Torak turn in a circle, scanning the area around them for any potential threats. Over the years Damian had no doubt Torak had done almost as much fighting as he had, only his fighting likely had concerned border disputes and warring clans or competing war bands.
"Torak," Damian said after a long moment of silence. "Do you remember how the Skotadi came to be? Before we received Oryx's blessing?"
The warrior nodded. "Our ancestors believed the light to be something evil, as it led masses of enemies to Earth's shores. They rejected the traveler and technology and decided to start their lives over without it."
Damian nodded. "And meanwhile, the traveler made guardians to establish the last city and protect the last of humanity within it."
Torak looked him in the eyes, waiting for him to continue. Damian drew in a shaky breath.
"Torak, I died when my father banished me from the clan."
His friend blinked, it was his only sign of confusion.
"When he banished me, it was still winter." He told Torak. "I hardly lasted a week before the hive found me. Almost a year later, a ghost found me. He revived me, but I was depressed and anxiety ridden. I was suicidal and reckless. I didn't want to live and for a time, I wasn't really worthy of it, either. I ended up getting my ghost killed, I died not long later, but the light gave me a third chance, and I'll never forget that." Damian held out his hand, summoning Kylie to his palm, who gave him a supportive little nod before she looked to Torak, behind her. "This is my second ghost, Kylie. My third chance, and one of the reasons why I'm here today."
Torak's lips had parted in shock, and when Kylie appeared, he almost took a step back. Even still, when he met Damian's eyes, he looked... impressed.
"You're guardians." He breathed, looking to him and Tessa, then to Kylie, studying her small frame. He thought about this for a long moment before speaking again. "You really did kill Oryx?" He asked. "And every time you leave, that's where you go? To fight for the city?"
Damian smiled, mainly in relief. He let Kylie disappear from his palm. "Not exactly." He said, looking to Tessa at his side. "She killed Oryx. I only helped."
"You did more than that." Tessa pointed out, squeezing his hand tightly as Torak gave her a nod of respect. "How do you feel about that?" She asked Torak, "Us killing Oryx?"
"I believe Oryx was more of a curse than a blessing to this clan." He told her, "I hope his death will bring about a change for the better, and perhaps," He looked towards Damian, "A new king could make it so."
Damian's stomach plummeted to his toes.
"My father never taught me-" He stammered.
"My father can." Torak interrupted, "Think about it, every decision your father made, my father was with him. His morals may not be in the right place, but my father knows how to manage this clan. He can keep the nobles in their places and if we can convince him to leave behind some of his biases towards the poor, we could turn this whole clan around." Torak took a step towards him, the fire in his eyes enough to push Damian off the fence. He offered him his hand, watching every emotion on his face.
Damian looked to his hand, then grasped his arm, locking eyes with him. "If I'm going to become king, I will only rule with you by my side." Damian told him firmly. Torak nodded just as firmly.
"Well," Tessa said from beside them, "I think we have one angry man to speak with."
When the group returned to the clan, the entire court was in an uproar. All the nobles were assembled in the main hall, and Torak had informed them before they'd flown back that many believed Damian himself had something to do with his father's death. He didn't blame them. If Oryx had truly been able to speak to his father, perhaps he'd had the strength to kill him, too.
The Captain of the Guard was waiting outside the doors to the hall when they arrived. Aiken, Damian recalled his name. He was leaning against the wall, more relaxed than Damian had ever seen anyone in the clan, though he grimaced when they approached.
"Prince." He said, pushing of the wall, though he still stood with his weight offset on one hip. "You certainly took your time."
Torak's answering snarl left him frowning, sharp canines flashing in warning as they stepped for the door. Even as they passed, Damian could have sworn he saw Aiken smirk at Tessa, though he saw her flash her own snarl in response. She may not have had the elongated canines and fierce, bold features of the Skotadi, but she'd picked up the mannerism well, her snarl just as fierce as any clan born warrior.
They pushed through the door, Tessa standing on his right flank, Torak on his left, and the moment the doors shuttered open, Damian saw heads begin to turn.
Demands that had already been echoing through the room were overtaken by shouts. He heard threats and demands flinging themselves at him, the whole room descending into chaos. Torak and Tessa didn't yield an inch as they made for the dais, and only once Damian had reached it did he turn to acknowledge the crowd before him.
He swept his gaze over the crowd, not listening to any of the shouted threats or demands, even as the whole room rang from them. Some people hefted weapons, brandishing them at him, at Tessa by his side. He had noticed Torak had stayed still, holding his ground beside him. The move was risky for his reputation, but he must've decided that he was done staying quiet. Damian couldn't help but feel relieved.
The shouting rose even further at his silence, but Damian had had enough. He drew his sword from its sheathe at his belt, holding the blade in a back-hand grip as he turned to face the table behind him. He took the final step towards the table and buried the blade into the center.
"Enough!" His shout rang off the stone walls. He hadn't even realized he'd pushed a bit of his power into it to louden his voice.
He turned back to the crowd, the warriors quieting behind him. As he turned, he glanced down at the table, at his blade, though he left it where it stood. His father had left similar marks in the scarred surface. He faced the crowd, his face a mask of steel, even as he swept his gaze across the warriors before him, some seething, some stunned.
"I did not kill my father." He said firmly. "Take as long as you'd like to figure that out." He spat the words at those who still seethed. "Meanwhile," He continued, "I will not stand by and let this clan descend into chaos and infighting. I am not my father, I do not promote chaos within so long as you pledge your loyalty to me."
He hadn't planned the words that he spoke, but they were truth all the same.
"Whatever threatens us is getting worse." Damian reminded them. The darkness was getting worse, even with Oryx dead. "We still don't know what killed my father, but I have no doubt it will wait for the fighting to continue before it strikes again, when we are most vulnerable." He let a few long moments of silence tick past, surveying the crowd again.
"I do not wish for that to be our fate. If you agree, come and find me." He said, stepping towards the front edge of the dais, his sword still behind him. "Discuss it amongst yourselves."
Damian gave a nod to his companions, and the three departed from the room, silence in their wake.
***
Batair found the three many hours later, the sun already having dipped below the horizon. They sat in the study of Damian's tower rooms, a roaring fire driving out the winter chill. Tessa sat beside the fire, two books set in front of her as she attempted to translate the Skotadi language, a few sheets of scribbled translations in Damian's handwriting beside them. Torak sat in the corner, sharpening a blade while he read over his own book. Damian stood at the main table, pages and pages of records spread before him as they delved into Skotadi history. They were hoping to find an instance of a king's murder within the Skotadi that hadn't ended in ridiculous amounts of bloodshed. Although, most cases did involve a clearly selected heir, the war bands simply battling to gain the to-be king's favor.
Damian's head was the first to raise as he heard the knock on the door from the chamber two rooms above them, and he stepped to the stairwell to call up for the knocker to enter. Footsteps sounded as Damian made his way back to the table where he'd been standing at the table. He couldn't help but blink in surprise when Batair descended the stairs and into the room a moment later.
His gaze swept the room, lingering for a moment on his son in the corner before he looked to Damian.
"The court has made their decision." He told Damian. "Your coronation will be in three days' time." Though he glanced to the window, darkness outside meeting him, as it was likely well after midnight. "Or rather, two." He said. The warrior looked exhausted, even as he held his head high, his back straight. Torak had told him about Batair holding the peace while Damian had been gone, somehow convincing the war bands to postpone their infighting. Damian felt indebted to him for it.
"Thank you." Damian said, taking a step towards the warrior. "For telling me, and for keeping control while I was gone." He said, offering a hand to the warrior. If he could have told himself while he was growing up that one day he'd be thanking Batiar for anything, he wouldn't have believed it. But as Batiar nodded, taking his hand in a firm handshake, he felt more words rising to his lips.
"You worked closely with my father," Damian said, "I'm sure you know more about leading the clan than I do. I would be honored to have you by my side as I learn to lead them."
He watched a bit of shock roil across Batiar's features, and he was silent for a moment before he nodded as well.
"It would be my pleasure, my king." The warrior responded, giving him a small bow, which Damian returned. He stepped back to leave, though he caught Torak's eyes for just a moment before he returned up the stairs the way he'd come. The door clicked shut softly and a few moments passed before anyone spoke.
"I'm surprised he agreed. Just like that." Tessa remarked, looking to Torak and Damian from where she sat by the fire.
"It would seem your father's death has changed us all." Torak said simply, glancing over to meet her eyes. "Congratulations." He said to Damian after a moment.
Damian hummed in response, though he was staring ahead of him, the weight of the position finally beginning to settle on him. He'd already begun to construct a plan where he'd be able to place Batiar in charge, only returning to the clan periodically for important issues. In his absence, he would have Torak working to better conditions for the lower classes. Even still, the system would be difficult to develop.
He heaved a sigh, looking back up to meet Tessa's eyes from where he sat across from him. He then looked back to Torak, in the corner off to his left.
"Sorry, I was... somewhere else." He offered apologetically.
Torak offered him a small smile. "Get some rest, Damian." He said, standing and placing his book on the table beside the mess that was already spread across it. "You're going to need it."
Damian spent the next two days planning, learning from Batair and struggling to develop a way to reorder the war bands, as they were practically itching to fight. Their leaders continued to approach him, eager to prove to him their strength and worthiness. He'd only managed to beat them off his back after Torak suggested a series of well-rounded competitions to prove their strength. Thankfully, they'd decided it would take place after his coronation, though at this rate, Damian knew they were close to missing the dawning, the day only a week away from his coronation.
Torak and Tessa came and went from his side, his exhausting hours proving too much for them, especially as they attempted to fit in time for Tessa to learn more about Skotadi fighting, as well as all the disputes at their borders. It seemed that the neighboring clans had heard of the king's death, as war bands came hoping to gain land from the clan while they were weakened by his loss. Torak had been placed in charge of overseeing those borders, and even brought Tessa with him into one of the battles for them.
She'd returned to Damian's quarters at the end of the day before Damian's coronation, cold and battle weary. His servant, Sariya, had to help her bathe. By the time Damian helped her into the bed that night, she looked dead on her feet.
Tessa awoke early the next afternoon. Damian was gone, readying for the coronation with Torak and Batiar. Thankfully, her long rest had done wonders for her, and when Sariya came with a steaming bowl of soup for her to eat, she was clear-eyed and alert.
"So, today is the big day." Sariya remarked, finally beginning to speak freely after Damian and Tessa's encouragement. "Do you think he's nervous?"
Tessa nodded, blowing on a spoonful of soup. "I'm sure he is." She said. Damian had been so busy the past two days, there was no way he wasn't nervous. She was nervous herself, but fighting all that out with Torak had been a relief. Even still, her mind lingered on the events of the battle the night before.
She'd been in battle all her life, she'd killed more enemies than she could count, but they'd never been human. Torak had told her before the battle that they were only on the defensive. She wasn't to kill unless necessity demanded it. She couldn't have agreed more, but with those blades slamming towards her, she'd retaliated in the only way she knew how. The Skotadi warriors had given her nods of respect when they'd walked off the battlefield that night. Human lives, taken by her hands. It went against everything she'd ever believed, everything she'd ever fought to protect.
He must've seen the conflict within her. As they'd walked back to the palace, gazing up at the light emanating from Damian's windows, he'd tried to reassure her. He pointed out the lower classes housing, closest to where the battle had taken place. He'd explained to her that if they hadn't killed those warriors, those very people would have suffered. The lower classes were poorly trained, poorly equipped, they wouldn't have been able to hold their own. She was still protecting people, it was a job that needed to be done.
"Are you nervous?" Sariya asked her, drawing her out of her thoughts.
"Yes." She answered honestly, meeting the girl's bright brown eyes. "I don't have much reason to be, but I'm worried about him." She confessed. She was worried about the responsibility he was taking onto his shoulders, and if he could manage to bear it himself.
"That's understandable." Sariya said. "You two are very close. He seems more relaxed when he's with you." She remarked.
Tessa gave her a nod and a small smile. "He has a similar effect." She said.
Sariya returned her smile, and after a moment, excused herself to ready Tessa's gown for the coronation. Once Tessa had finished her soup, she went up to the bedroom to join her. Sariya helped her dress and did her hair and makeup. By the time she was finished, it was time for her to head to the throne room.
She said goodbye to Sariya, promising to tell her all of the details once she and Damian returned. Because Sariya was of the lower classes, she would be unable to attend the coronation, though most of the lower class had assembled outside the palace, waiting for after the ceremony when Damian would go out to greet the villagers. With a final adjustment to her gown, Sariya shooed her from the room, reminding her to be careful not to trip as she made her way down the long flights of stairs.
Her gown was a blend of light and darkness. She had suggested a lighter gown to Sariya, who had searched the stash of dresses Damian's mother had kept from generations of Skotadi queens and princesses. Her suggestion had come because she'd known Damian would be dressed primarily in black, a lighter gown with dark accents could perhaps complement him.
Sariya had found her a gown unlike anything she'd ever really seen before. It was a blend of black and icy blue, the black flowing from a textured belt above her hips, shifting into blue as it flowed down the dress. The same colors were mixed as it flowed down from her left shoulder, a black and icy blue flower sitting on her shoulder. It was a mix of light and dark, exactly what Damian would bring to this clan, his light driving away the darkness that had plagued the people for centuries.
The thoughts swirled around her brain as she made her way down the staircase, and then down the dimly lit hall, heading for the throne room at the other side of the palace. The halls were empty, or at least this one was, servants too busy to even light all the torches as they prepared for the coronation. She didn't see the figure that emerged from the darkness of a doorway just as she passed it, and she could hardly cry out in protest as a strong hand covered her mouth, an arm wrapping around her throat.
She felt herself pulled against a tall, thin body, lithe and slim though she could feel firm muscle covered by finery. She tried to scream, to cry out as her hands were powerless to pull the arm away from her throat, or the hand from her mouth. Whatever noise she made was so muffled it hardly reached her ears.
"Quiet now," A voice purred into her ear, "You wouldn't want to disturb the ceremony would you? The traitor is about to be crowned king." She recognized Aiken's voice, captain of the guard- though she had no doubt after Damian was crowned, he would be losing that position, especially after she told him about whatever he was planning to do to her here.
She felt herself snarl into his palm, but again, she heard no sound escape. It was the same snarl she'd spat at him a few days ago, when he'd smirked at her. What was he planning? Her heart began to pound.
Aiken only chuckled behind her, his arm tightening enough around her throat to make her short of breath. She jerked her head sharply, opening her mouth and catching his first finger between her teeth. She bit down hard, until she tasted hot blood. Aiken roared in anger, flinging her so hard into the wall in front them, her attempt to stop herself only had her turning around to collide into the wall backwards. The strength was inhuman, stronger than anything she thought possible, especially for Aiken's slim frame. She felt her herself slam into the stone wall and pain bloomed in her head as she fell to the floor below.
"Bitch." He spat at her, grabbing roughly at her arms and dragging her to her feet as her vision swam around her. He dragged her down the corridor and off into a small side room, lit only by a few torches. He flung her to the floor as a wave of nausea rolled over her, moving to lock the door firmly.
"Damian may be an idiot," Aiken said once he'd locked the door and returned to stare down at her. "But he's not stupid. Unlike you." He said, glaring down at her as she fought the nausea rolling over her.
"What the hell do you want from me?" She demanded, sliding her feet under her as she sat against the wall behind her, her hands braced on either side of her, should she need to stand quickly.
"I would like you dead." He told her simply. "But I'm afraid it won't be me who kills you. I will kill your mate, however. I'll make him watch your death over and over again until he's broken at my feet. Then I'll carve out his heart." He spat at her.
Her wave of nausea had slowly begun to fade, but she hardly processed his words, she was trying to survey the room, trying to calm her rising panic. The room they were in was tiny, practically a closet, a few old, unused tools discarded in the corner. The door behind him was the only way in or out. She kept her palms flat on the floor, restraining herself from going for the knives strapped at her thighs. If she drew them, she'd loose her only advantage, and with the strength Aiken had used to fling her into the wall, she was going to need it.
"I'm not stupid." She said finally, her eyes meeting his as she willed them to light with her own fire, a foil to Aiken's own eyes that burned flames of darkness.
He eyed her up and down, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he frowned at her.
"Pathetic." He merely said. Indeed, she felt herself thinking, she hadn't even put up a fight.
"I'm not stupid." She repeated, her voice stronger this time.
He merely turned away from her, as if bored, disinterested. Only an instant later, he drew his blade and with quickness she was sure wasn't humanly possible. He spun back to her and brought it slamming down towards her. She read the blow a moment before it was too late, catching the blade on her bare forearm. The blade cut deep, stopping at the bone, though somehow she made no noise, rising her eyes to glare into his. She would not draw her weapon. Not yet. Not yet.
"Aren't you, though?" He asked as he watched the blood slip down from her arm, pooling on her dress below it. He withdrew his sword, and she tried not to gasp as it slid from her arm, moving to cover the wound with her hand. "Upon your feet." He snapped at her, to which she rose carefully.
He took a few steps back, and to her surprise, he slid his bloody weapon into the sheathe at his belt.
"Now," He said, spreading his hands. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Hand over your weapons, and no more harm shall come to you by my hands."
She barked a laugh, not just at the blatant lie. "You think I could hide a weapon under this dress?" She asked him, gesturing to the slim bodice. She'd heard of warriors hiding short swords between their breasts when they wore finery. She had always known she'd never be that big. "My breasts aren't that big, believe me." She promised him. Aiken gave her a snarl of a smile, advancing a step towards her, to which she stepped back, her back hitting the wall behind her.
He stepped towards her until her face was inches from him, her head level with his chest and neck as he towered over her. He reached out and lifted her chin to stare him in the face, and he gazed into her eyes as he purred.
"Then I suppose we'll have to do this the hard way."
Again, he moved faster than she thought possible, and he spun her into the wall, so she was facing away from him. He pressed her into the wall with his body, taking her hands from where she'd braced them against the wall, prepared to push off of it, to get away from him if she could. He took her wrists in his hands and brought them above her head, she felt his lips brush her ear.
"I'll give you one last chance." He purred.
"Go to hell." She spat in response.
At first, all she felt was a soft tingling against the edge of her light. Then, in an instant, it was burning her like acid, searing though her skin at every place he touched her, in her arms as he gripped them firmly, and in her neck as he pressed his lips into that spot below her ear, that spot Damian liked to kiss. Darkness, seeping from his body and into hers, devouring her very being as it pressed into her. She cried out, yanking her arms free of him, but the attack continued on more than just her skin. She felt her light being attacked as well, darkness poured into her, burning her from the inside out as it tore away at her light.
Aiken tore at her dress as she struggled, his hands ripping into it as if it were paper, finding the bare skin of her torso to burn instead of her arms. She grappled for one of her knives now, as she shrieked in pain as his hands burned her skin. She tore herself from his grip, raising her knife at him, slashing out at him, only for him to duck it easily.
"That's more like it." He cooed as he drew his sword, grinning at her as she panted, trembling in pain as the darkness tore through her, devouring her light even as she tried to fight it. She moved to the defensive as he lunged, practically fencing with her as she moved to dodge and block with her knife. But he was quicker, stronger. He had her disarmed in moments, her knife clattering to the floor as he caught her hand. He moved fast, grabbing her again and forcing her against the wall, pressing her cheek into the cold stone as his arms wrapped around her.
"What else are you hiding?" He wondered aloud, one of his hands gripping her wrists, the other sliding under her skirts as he pushed her into the wall.
"Let me go!" She demanded, shoving against him as she tried to keep his hands off her skin. In response, her wrists burned, as if he'd plunged them into an open flame. His other hand grabbed her thigh and burned, the other hand coming down to hold her other thigh a second later.
"The more you fight, the worse this will be for you." He warned her, his hands creeping towards her inner thighs. She didn't let him tell her exactly what he had in store for her should she refuse. Instead, she stilled against him, her hands moving to brace themselves against the wall. Her only movements were the heavy rise and fall of her chest.
"That's better." He breathed, and slowly, the burning began to cease. His hands roved over her thighs, and he found her final blade. Once he'd tucked the blade into his belt, he dropped her skirts, his hands coming up to roughly grab at her breasts. She snarled at him, the fight somehow still within her, but he only shoved her harder against the wall.
"It's a shame," He purred into her ear, not removing his hands. "I could have so much more fun with you, if only I had the time. And I'd love to see the look on that traitor's face when I told him everything I'd done to his precious mate." That word again, mate. She didn't take the time to contemplate it. "But," He continued with a heavy sigh, "Nokris will be here soon. He'll have fun with you, I can promise you that. And then you and Damian can be together in hell with the rest of the guardians."
She knew that name. Nokris, she knew that name. His statue had been beside Oryx's and Crota's on the dreadnought. He was going to kill her.
"You could never kill him." She snarled, forcing herself to take the events one step at a time. She couldn't panic, not yet.
"You hardly stood a chance against me." He reminded her. "You are his weakness. Without you, it will be harder to force him to do things, but I'll find a way. He will not be king for long." He promised her.
"You'll never beat him." She said firmly, even as she was trembling in pain and anxiety. He snarled into her ear, his sharp canines coming close enough to nearly catch the edge of it.
"I will defeat him, and you will be silent." He snapped at her. "Because you know what will happen if you do not comply."
She bit back a retort and he shoved her further against the wall as he pushed himself off and stalked away from her. She let out a shuddering breath, but turned around and silently leaned after him, nicking one of his own knives from his belt and slipping it into the leather strap against her inner thigh as he faced away from her. She then slid down to the floor as if she hadn't done anything, wincing as the knife pressed against her fresh burns, left by Aiken's skin.
He let her rest for a moment, then moved back to face her.
"Get up." He snapped, "It's time to go."
***
Damian's heart was pounding as Torak pushed through the door, out of the throne room so packed with people. He only shook his head to Damian as he moved to his side.
"She's not here." The warrior said, "We can find her after, but right now, we have to move."
A muscle feathered in his jaw, but he nodded. Even still, his whole body was tense as he looked towards the closed doors. His father's sword was heavy at his side as he took a step towards those doors, taking in a deep breath. He steeled his spine. After. He would find her after. He let out that breath and looked to the guards that stood beside them. He gave them a nod, and as one they pushed them open.
The walk had never felt so long as he made his way towards the throne before him. The throne was empty, Batiar stood beside it, in that spot where his mother would often stand beside his father. Beside Batair was one of the village elders, Palio, the same man that had overseen the renewal ceremony. Damian met his eyes and the man gave him a reassuring nod.
He kept his gaze ahead of him, though he could practically feel Torak keeping pace with him at his left flank. He stayed by his side until they approached the dais. Only then did Damain allow himself to turn, to look out over the people assembled before him. His people, the people he would commit to. The people he would teach to be kind, to love, to protect.
He turned back towards the dais and mounted the steps. He walked all the way to where Batiar and Palio stood, the silver crown sitting atop the dark pillow in Palio's hands. Smoothly, he knelt before him, his dark cape flowing as he dropped down onto his right knee.
"Do you put forth your mind, heart and soul to serve and protect the Skotadi?" Batair asked him, the words echoing through the silent throne room.
"I do." Damian answered.
"Do you offer all that you are, and everything that you have to your people?" Batair asked him.
"All that is mine shall be theirs." Damian said, and distantly he wondered if the kings that had spoken the words before him had ever wished for those words to be true. He hoped they had, just as he vowed for them to be.
"Speak your vows." Palio said from beside Batiar, and Damian's tongue felt heavy as he recited the words.
"I, Damian Asmodeus of the Skotadi, pledge to serve and protect the people of the Skotadi for as long as I shall live." He recited. He closed his eyes as Batiar moved to retrieve the crown from Palio, and he felt the weight settle onto his head.
"All hail the King." Batiar announced, as Damian rose to his feet.
He'd hardly faced the crowd before a familiar shriek sounded, echoing through the hall as if on a phantom wind.
He knew that noise. Hive ships.
Hands flew to weapons, the crown above his head forgotten as his whole being launched into battle. Clapping mixed with shouts as the room descended into confusion. He knew chaos would descend only moments later.
"Get anyone who can't fight into the palace." Damian ordered, already moving off the dais. "Organize the warriors," He told Batiar, "We may have a battle on our hands."
Batair broke off to shout orders as he and Torak tore for the exit of the throne room, warriors breaking from the crowds as they rushed to seize weapons, all following him outside. The corridors were dark as they broke into a sprint, but Damian knew them well, and as did Torak, the pair finding themselves outside the palace in seconds.
What waited beyond was chaos. The lower classes that had been assembled outside the palace were screaming, racing for cover or for weapons as at least a dozen hive ships poured into the territory, dropping hordes of enemies all across the field. The hive hadn't opted for an organized front, simply descending into the chaos and wreaking havoc on the unarmed civilians before them. Blood sprayed, screams rang out and shrieks of terror and agony cut through the air like knives as they descended.
"Get to the palace!" Damian shouted, pointing his sword to it. "Get inside!"
The people spread before them began sprinting for the entrance. He and Torak took to the skies to avoid the mob, shooting towards the hive. Damian landed on a knight, driving his sword into the creature's neck, but it wasn't the spray of blood that made him gasp. Something tugged on a cord within his soul, and he raised his head to see a host of hive dragging something into a ship. No, someone.
He caught Tessa's eyes for just a moment before a group of thrall descended on him. When he looked again, she was gone, and as was the ship she'd been dragged onto.
Author's Note
Hey, guys! This chapter is where it all gets interesting. *winks*
I'm glad to get this chapter out, and I have a week long break so I can probably get the next one out pretty soon too! Unfortunately I do have a lot of homework and I'm going to go visit my sister up at her college this week so we'll see how productivity goes. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, more interesting twists to come.