This scene is set at the very end of “King of Flames.”
What was it like, to die?
What was it like, the moment it came?
Honestly, he could not remember. Very much like the moment of drifting off to sleep, it came upon him slowly. When he would lay down in his crypt and let himself slide away, he could never pinpoint the moment it arrived.
But coming out of death was another matter entirely. It was not an experience that anyone outside of those claimed by Under was ever graced to share. And they were all quite the better off for it. The act of returning from the other side of death and into life…was painful.
Oftentimes more so than the act that put him there.
Although to be fair, it had been many—many—hundreds of years since anyone had ever killed him. He only experienced it when he was forced to sleep in his crypt and let that idiot Edu rule in his stead. But such was the cost of his foolish war, and he paid it without complaint.
Very well. Without much complaint, he corrected himself. He was want to do that frequently; talk to himself within his mind, as if there were more than one of him sharing the space. Perhaps there was. It was hard to tell, some days.
He sat up from his crypt. Forcing himself out of his slumber too quickly was an agonizing ordeal. It was a little secret of his, that he kept a thread-line to the waking world should he need it. Far be it from him to trust the giant moron to care for the world while he slumbered. No; he always maintained a secret way out of his unwilling sleep should he need it. He had not yet found the need to wield such a thing.
But for this girl? This mystery, this charmingly naïve mortal rejected from the Pool, as yet unchanged as she went in?
For her, he would rise early. Regardless of the liquid iron that it sent burning through his veins. Pressing his hands into the lip of his sarcophagus, he tipped his head down and found that he could not fill his lungs with air. They would not obey. They were deflated—or perhaps too full—to move. He knew not which, and it did not matter. The pain was the same.
Silence.
His heart was not beating.
Well, that was irritating.
Ah. So, this would be why he and the other royals rose over long periods of time and why it might take years for one of them to become conscious. Now he had confirmation on his theory of what might happen to him should he force the matter, as he just had.
Fascinating. This is miserable. He would have laughed, could he inform his body that it needed to move. To live. To breathe. To not be so unflinchingly cold. He was a corpse, after all, now struggling to return to anything but.
He did not have time for this.
More aptly; she did not have time for this.
Edu was going to kill the girl. He knew it, as certain as he knew the moons would rise. Edu would see her as a threat, and Navaa had confirmed it. To keep her “dark secrets” from his grasp, the girl’s brains would be dashed out upon the stones. He could only hope he had not taken too long enough as it was.
Finally, his lungs obeyed, and he pulled in a long gasp of air. Oh, that was heaven. The hot iron in his veins receded, if just a little. Enough that he could shift. To try and stand. To try and climb out of his sarcophagus.
Damn his heart, it was still not moving. He balled his right hand into a fist and slammed it into his chest, attempting to start it. Once, twice, and on the third impact, he felt it lurch. Heard the thrum that had been so noticeable in its absence.
Fascinating how the sound of one’s heartbeat is only understood by its’ absence. Observations for another day. He climbed over the edge of the stone, one leg at a time, and stood. Nearly falling to the floor in a heap, he kept himself standing with a hard grasp of his metal claw on the edge of the stone.
I do not have time for this! he shouted at his errant limbs. Screamed at them to obey him. By sheer force of will alone, he straightened up and tugged his suit coat straight, and combed a hand through his hair. He would be presentable when he arrived.
First impressions are key. For while they had met before in dreams, this waking world was a far cry removed from the muddied and elusive world of visions. He was…excited…to meet this girl. Aon was not frequently anything of the sort. That anticipation matched his will and they ran as two horses tethered together to a carriage. Together, the two emotions pulled his unsteady and entirely unready body into action.
He did not even bother to return home. He doubted there was time to do such a thing. For in his great lengths of years, for all his eternity that stretched on long beyond the point that it should, there was one odd fact that remained perfectly clear to him. When fate wished to change the world, it did so very quickly. His life may drag on for a hundred years without incident; but when the compass of the world changed, it did so in a matter of moments.
And so, he knew, the girl’s life hung in the breadth of seconds.
But how to find her? He knew where Edu’s keep was, of course, so that gave him some sense of guidance. Some narrowing in of the field. Lydia had found her way into his dreams, and her into his, on several occasions. They had a bond; a strange link he did not understand. But he would use it to his every advantage.
Summoning the strength, he bent the shape of the world on its axis and stepped between the folds. It was bending space at a point like folding pieces of paper; thinking about the world in a different way. Space was only relative, after all.
At the same moment, he reached out to the girl. Sought her mind through the maddening multitude. He called upon the same power that granted him the ability to speak into the minds of his servants; to Navaa and the others. Once he had touched a mind—or in this case, hers had touched his—he could tug upon the string like that of a puppet.
There you are, my darling.
The sudden change of directions created a great deal of kinetic energy. It yanked him to materialize in the middle of a footpath in the woods. He heard the crack of lightning and the roar of thunder around him, the result of his sudden appearance.
And the neigh of a beast.
Lifting his head, it struck him for a moment how utterly beautiful she was. He knew her on sight; her long blonde hair, her lithe frame, riding atop one of the creatures of Under that passed for human horses. If, perhaps, mated with an insect.
The creature reared up at his presence. For that hanging moment in time, she was stunning. Powerful, elegant, and it took his breath away.
Right until she fell off.
She landed on the ground in a heap and a quiet thump.
The grasshopper-equine creature took off in the other direction, wanting nothing to do with him. Its freedom, and that of its rider, had been rather abruptly brought to an end.
What were you trying to do, little one?
It wasn’t until now that it struck him as interesting that he had not appeared inside a jail cell. He had not been summoned to her side in the depths of Edu’s keep. Instead, he was in the woods. And that girl had been atop a creature, making a bid for the horizon. A bid for escape.
How wonderful!
A little resourceful thing she must be, to have the ability to escape from someone who was as intractable as Edu. He built his home as he built his ego; stubborn, brute-force, and unrefined. And yet, there she was, lying on the ground. Pushing herself up to her feet.
His heart soared for her. That she had the strength of will to fight back against someone like Edu. The simple question remained; would she fight back against him? Certainly, she had expressed her dislike for his methods and his madness in dreams. But now that her life was on the line in far more finality than before. For here, he could truly hurt her.
Although he may not need to anything of the sort. She was injured. That much was plain to see as she wavered on her feet. She pushed her hair away from her face and lifted her head. She saw him where he stood in the center of the path, and he knew he cut an imposing sight.
He would have it no other way.
“Hello, my dear. How wonderful to finally meet you, Lydia.”
What will you do now? Will you turn and run? Will you scream or beg for mercy? Will you pay me in tears for your safety?
He watched. He stood, some twenty feet away as he was, and waited. He let her decide what path they may now yet travel together. That…and he was endlessly curious. Sometimes it was more interesting to see the vermin play within their maze; to eke out their own directions. Most often, he was the mastermind of the maze, watching those beneath him scurry about and struggle to find their way through the darkness when he could see the whole.
But this one was not vermin. This one was not so weak. He watched as something flashed over her face. Hope, followed by hopelessness, followed by resignation, followed by…dignity. No; not dignity. Defiance.
This one was certainly not vermin.
She raised her head to look at him, did her best to straighten her shoulders, and tried, as far as he could tell, to fashion a façade of bravery on her stunning features.
You think to stand your ground? You think you are so stalwart? We shall see, precious thing. He could not help but laugh. A low chuckle that carried forebodingly through the darkness of the trees. He took one step towards her, then another, slowly—carefully—letting her change her mind. He was giving her fear a chance to simmer and rise to a boil and cause her to bolt.
Tucking his human hand behind his back, he closed the distance between them.
Still, she has not moved. Still, she has not run. His heart was pounding in his chest, fully awake now from his forced death. It was not the adrenaline of a return to living that sent such fire through his veins. It was her.
No one holds their ground against me. No one does not dare shrink away. Not even the Priest holds his ground when he is pressed. But you…little mortal…dare to hold the line?
Oh, but how she was trembling. She was nearly quaking; in fear, in injury, in many things. But she did not retreat from him. She did not stand down. She held her shoulders and her head high, and though her eyes had now focused upon his tie and not the visage of his metal mask, she stood firm.
Good girl. Impressive. But I know how to scare you. I know how to call your bluff. He raised his metal prosthetic to her face and held the claws over her skin such as they caught the moonlight. She flinched but…did not retreat.
He let out a quiet noise despite himself. The sight of the instrument of her recent torment in her sleep should have sent her stumbling away from him in terror. But she did no such thing. A flinch of fear, of waiting for him to tear her face off from her skull, but otherwise, she stayed still.
His heart may have skipped a beat, but he was not certain.
Curling his claws in towards his palm, he let the backs of his metal knuckles slowly brush down her cheek. He had intended to run the tips of his metal fingers there instead, but something inspired him to be more gentle with the child. She had held her ground against him. He could pay her some kindness in return.
Something flashed over her features. No, in fact, a myriad of things ran through her in succession. He watched her struggle with something internally, playing things out in her mind and trying to find a way forward. She did not want to cave into his embrace such as he might dream, but neither did she run in fear or sink to her knees in surrender.
“Tell me, what was it I have just witnessed play out upon these lovely features of yours?” Aon asked, keeping his voice low and soft. He had to know. She shot him an incredulous glance as if he had asked her to explain if the moon was made of cheese. She had not expected him to speak, perhaps. At least not such a line of reasoning.
He wished to snatch her in his arms. Drag her to his home, kicking and screaming. He wished to tear her clothes from her body, to rend them from her by his bare hands. She stood before him now, trembling and skin freckled in goosebumps. He would have her naked beneath him in such a state for a very different reason. He would have her cry as she wept for him take her—and to take mercy upon her—in the same breath.
He shoved the thoughts back into the corner of his mind from which the escaped as quickly as they had risen. Namely, before something else rose to match. But his voice, when it left him, was a low and deadly rumble, nonetheless. “Indulge me…”
Lydia was left stammering. She could sense the tiger that loomed in the shadows, even if she could not see it for what it was. She was no idiot. They had a few minutes to themselves, and he let her take the time to summon her wits enough to speak. “Crying won’t help. Begging won’t work. I can’t run, and struggling will do more harm than good. I…I’ve lost. The only thing left to do is die with pride,” she admitted quietly. Her hands clenched at her sides as she began and then went limp as she spoke of dying with pride.
She accepts her fate. She knows she cannot escape me. She tried to run from Edu—tried to escape him—but can sense that I am the far more dangerous one.
It did not do anything to help him suppress his latent hunger for her.
“Mmh, beautiful.” Aon stepped in closer, and Lydia went rigid. The talons of his gauntleted hand stroked through her hair slowly, brushing her waves away from her face and tucking the strands behind her ear. She pulled in a breath and held it. Her eyes went wide, and she froze. She knew that even if he were being gentle now, that may change in short order at any moment. “Then you are no fool, my clever child, to see the truth so easily. Good. That will make this far more interesting.”
“If you’re going to kill me, please do it already,” Lydia said quietly, her voice shaking.
Kill you? Killing you is the last thing upon my mind. Not until we have had a chance to truly become acquainted. He curled his metal fingers under her chin and broke her gaze from where she had fixated on his tiepin. “Oh, my dear. Kill you? Why ever would I do that?” He knew the answer to the question quite keenly. He had given her every reason to fear him. But he wished to dismiss the concern aloud; and to do so and yet maintain his position of power in the conversation, he would have to have her admit her worry. He always preferred to offer the counter-argument. Never the leading charge.
She looked at him in perfect disbelief. She, too, could not believe he did not understand. “I mean, last time…you…”
And so, they waltzed. “Ah. Yes.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his masked face turning away for a moment. He pretended to look thoughtful. “I think perhaps I have given you the wrong impression. What I did was merely to teach you a lesson. Hopefully, I will not have cause to demonstrate another.”
What I have done to you in dreams was done to show you what pain may come. I am not interested in playing that particular game with you; for as you are mortal, it would be disappointingly brief. Squishing a gnat is not a sport. I take no joy in killing a fly. But we may play other games yet, my dear. You are still a mystery, and I do hunger for a real puzzle to solve.
Aon turned his face back toward her as he pressed the point of the thumb of his clawed hand against the line of her lower lip. He stepped in closer, just a few inches away. “No, beautiful darling, you are the first unusual thing to happen in this forsaken world in a long, long time. I have no desire to kill you. Far from it.”
She veered.
Oh.
Yes.
Right.
She was a mortal.
Aon watched as her eyes seemed to turn glassy. She wavered on her feet once more, as if her ground had become unsteady. He had forgotten—he had entirely dismissed—that she was hurt. That the fall from her horse had not healed instantaneously as it would have for any of them.
Her hands grasped his arms suddenly. She reached out to hold on to anything that was nearby that could keep her upright. And at the time, that was…him. Letting out a low hum in his throat, and finding that he enjoyed her hands grasping him entirely far too pleasurable, he wrapped an arm around her waist. Pulling her up against his body, he decided she felt quite perfect there.
She is so warm. So soft. So wonderfully alive. Her heart was pounding in her veins, her face was flushed, she leaned against him, even as she fought against the surrender. But her body was betraying her. It was hurt, and he was a port in a storm.
“Well, now, all you had to do was ask,” he teased down at her. Far be it from him to not be able to comment on his superior position at the moment.
“I…uh. I don’t feel so good,” Lydia managed to get out as she slumped against him. The poor girl was hurt and hurt quite badly.
“My poor little thing,” he murmured. “It is quite all right. You are injured. Do not fight it. I will take care of you.”
“Edu’s going to kill me,” she mumbled, barely able to get the words out.
Aon was barely listening. She smelled of summer and a strange but not unpleasant tinge of chemicals. He wanted to press her against him and never let her go. “Oh?”
“To keep me away,” her head reeled to one side, “from you. Edu…” Lydia clearly couldn’t hold onto consciousness anymore. Her grip on it was slipping, just as her hands were falling from clinging onto his coat to stay standing.
No, my pet. Edu will not touch you. He will never lay a hand on you again—even if you were to beg for it. You are in my care, now. And I do not think I wish to let you go. “He will not harm you. With me, you will be safe. I promise.”
