Set during “King of Flames,” this is the first few shared dreams from Aon’s point of view.
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come?
This was not death, this fugue state in which Aon and his ilk could willingly enter. It was somewhere between dreams and death. Little more than a stasis, where they could rest their weary minds of the tarnish placed upon them by time.
Aon entered this place unwillingly. If it were not for the simple fact that he had relinquished his throne to Edu to sleep within his crypt as was detailed in their truce, he would not mind this state of being. Dreams, indeed sleep itself, brought him pleasure. They brought him peace. Little in this world did such a thing. For in this sleep, he could let his mind wander. He could let it trace through the broken corridors of his psyche freely.
He needn’t attempt to tether it for the sake of maintaining some semblance of his sanity. It was as though he kept a demon on a leash, constantly yanking his own self back into line. Tugging on the steel cable and demanding his mind to heel. And it would—for a time. But demons cannot be tamed. Neither could insanity be cured.
At least, none like his.
And so, he lay in his mausoleum. In the polished black stone of his sarcophagus and dreamt of things long since passed. He let his mind roam free. There was no need to maintain his sanity here.
But this time, unlike all the rest, a different manner of vision came to him.
For whatever she was, she was not a memory. She was not a piece of his past, returned to play through his splintered memories like a water bug might surf upon the surface of a fountain.
And who are you, little one?
A mortal. He sensed no power in her, save for the call of the mark she wore on her arm. Those chosen by the Ancients called to Aon and all his ilk like the scent of a fox might do a hound on a hunt. They were drawn to them—hungered for them—wished to take them as they prey they were.
But what was a marked soul, a mortal girl, doing here in his mind?
He remained still. He wished to see what she may do. The look on her face was of pure and utter fear. She knew not where she was. And yet, that was not the only expression that painted her beautiful features. Her bright blue eyes glimmered with fascination. Curiosity. For what?
He had his answer as she reached a hand out to touch him. To place timid fingertips against his metal mask. Not to remove it, but seemingly drawn to it. To him.
No one touched him.
His hand snapped around her wrist as she drew too close. She screamed, and he laughed at the beautiful sound. With that, the vision shattered.
***
Whatever in all of Under was happening?
The little mortal had returned. He could sense her in the edges of his mind, sneaking into his dreams like a thief through a window. This time, he was not caught nearly so off-guard. He watched from the shadows as she crept towards his coffin in the center of the mausoleum. Wondering if she might catch a glimpse of him lying in repose once more.
You will catch more than a glimpse of me, my darling.
While she may not have caught him by surprise, his own sudden hunger for her, did. He felt it surge in him like a wolf on the hunt. He wanted to see her look at him in terror. He wanted to feel her body against his. Wondered what she might smell like.
This reaction to her presence was not a common occurrence for him.
It was not that he did not have such physical urges. He did. He certainly did. Just as much, if not more so, than any of the others. He just simply did not find the need to pay such things any mind. He had the self-restraint to not entertain himself in such a way as he was tempted to do now, with this little curious mortal who had blundered into his dreams.
Not to mention—no one dared let him eke out his desires upon them.
Not for long, anyway.
The sadist. The madman. The revolting demon. The mastermind and manipulator.
The only company who sought him out were the curious or the power-hungry. The ones who wondered how nightmarish a night with him truly was—or those who wished to secure a position of favor with the King of Shadows. He never kept them around for more than an evening or two. Either he became bored of their political games, or they came to realize that the cost of such favor from the King of Shadows was far too high. He could sense their disdain for him; and he made them pay for it in flesh.
He had earned his reputation.
And he enjoyed it.
But this little thing? This little blonde child, wandering towards his sarcophagus in such terrified fascination?
She carried no hatred for him. No innate disgust. She would soon, but for now…she was free of the corruption of the Ancients. He could have fun with this one.
It would be a harmless diversion. She would be taken to the Pool before long, and afterwards she would look at him with the same hatred that they always did. He would have his fun while he could.
And she was simply far too tempting.
As she leaned to peer into the empty chamber of his coffin, he twisted his hand into her hair. He pressed her forward, pinning her against the lip of the stone with his own body.
By the Ancients, she is so warm. It was hard to keep himself from wrapping his arms around her right then and there. To bend her fully over the edge of the stone and take her. Damn him, he wanted her.
Patience, you old fool. Do not spoil the game so soon. “Well hello,” he lowered his head towards her ear and heard the gravel in his voice that may betray to the girl his intentions. “I am surprised you returned.”
“Let me go!”
“You invade my mind, and I am supposed to let you go? How quaint.” He had to laugh. It was a fully reasonable request on her part. But, he had no intention of moving. Not with how she struggled against him. As she writhed against his body, he had to put a stop to it, lest he find other inspirations for her to continue squirming. He caught her left wrist and crossed it over her right arm, pinning her and stilling her thrashing. “Now, now. None of that. You are the trespasser here, after all.”
“Not on purpose.”
“Of that, I am certain. The mark on your arm speaks that you have not yet Fallen.” His metal mask touched her temple as he leaned in closer to her. She smelled like a summer field. There was a twinge of chemicals beneath it that was curious to him. She worked in the medical profession, perhaps. She was bound for the House of Words, he was sure. “So, by what method are you here, I wonder?”
“I don’t know. Let me go!” The girl struggled.
“So feisty.” He loved feisty. He wanted to see her face. He wanted to watch her fear. He let her go and as she whirled about to face him, he caught her wrists again and pinned them to the surface behind him.
It was not just fear he saw in those shining blue eyes. Oh, may the pits preserve him. There was still curiosity burning there. Excitement. Hidden and perhaps mistakable by anyone who was not so perfectly and personally acquainted with the spectrum of terror as he was.
Oh, she was afraid. That was for certain. But even as she recoiled from him in terror, he saw the glint in her eyes. She was fascinated by him, even as she was trembling in fear.
I could find another reason to make you tremble, beautiful child.
The girl stood there, locked stunned, looking up at his visage with that intoxicating mix of fear and nervous delight. He would savor that expression until the end of his days. So rarely had he ever been the recipient of so perfect a thing as that.
If he did not change the subject soon, he would rip her clothes from her body and see if he could make her scream his name. There was still a problem he must address that was different from the quickly-growing desire he was contending with. Why was she here? How was she here? Certainly not of her own accord, as he had asserted. “I suppose it is more likely you are here by my doing,” he said thoughtfully.
“You…aren’t sure?”
“No.” He pulled in a sharp breath through his nose and let it out in a small sigh. There was no point in hiding his nature from her. It would be painfully clear to her in a matter of days. Either by his own doing, or after she joined the world of Under in truth. “Ah, well. You will discover this soon enough. I fear my grasp on my own mind may be a bit…tenuous at best.”
“Oh, good. I’ve dreamed up an insane nightmare man,” she griped.
“You believe I am a figment of your mind? How charming. No, my dear. I am very real. My shattered mind may play tricks upon me, but of that fact, I am certain. You merely have found yourself inside my sleeping psyche.”
The look on her face was priceless.
“Well, that’s…just great,” she finally managed to muster.
He had to chuckle at her odd sense of humor. “You are a sardonic one, aren’t you? Lovely.” He couldn’t help himself. He leaned in closer to her, and watched her bend backwards, trying to shrink away from him. Her fear was a heady drug, and he wanted more of it. “But why have I brought you here, I wonder?” He lifted his clawed gauntlet from her wrist and hovered the points of his knife-like fingers over her cheek.
He suspected he knew why. The fire that burned in him had called her here. No need to mortify the girl—best to keep that to himself.
Oh, how her eyes went wide. But it was not just that. Her cheeks went pink in a blush as he trailed the tips of his knifelike fingers over her tender skin. Oh, be still my black heart. Be still the rest of him, lest he give her another cause for alarm.
“Wait, I—” she squeaked out, uncertainty flashing through her eyes.
“Once more, you ask for my restraint?” My restraint is quickly waning. He curled his clawed fingers into his palm and ran the metal knuckle down her cheek instead. It was a tender, gentle gesture. But it terrified her all the same. He let out a small grunt, and once more wished to throw her into his sarcophagus. To pin her to the stone and ravish her until she relented and surrendered to him.
Why did she not simply wake from the nightmare? Could it be that she wished to be here with him? Could she truly want to tangle with the monster in the darkness? No. There must be another cause for her continued state in his dream. She was unaware of her fascination towards him, even if he could see it plain. “If you do not wish to be here, then simply wake up. Even if you are here by my power, you can free yourself.”
“I—I can’t,” the girl stammered.
“Oh?”
“He drugged me.”
“Who is he?”
“His name’s Maverick, I think.”
Ah. That would do it. Aon let out a beleaguered sigh. He hung his head and shook it. They had the poor girl drugged. No wonder she was wandering the dream-realm as she was. “That man, for all his intelligence, is an utter moron.”
“You know him?”
“I very well should. I am the one who brought Maverick to Under. I knew him as a mortal man before he came through the gate and Fell to the House of Words and became its regent,” he said through another amused chuckle. The simple conversation was a good distraction from his other burning needs.
“House of Words?”
“You would not understand. Once you Fall, all will be made clear.”
“Fall where?”
Oh, youth. “The uninitiated are always so wonderfully naïve. Did you tell Maverick of our previous encounter?” He shifted to rest his metal palm against her jawline, the dagger-like blade of his thumb running across her cheek. It made her shiver, and she pressed harder against the edge of the sarcophagus. How her face bloomed red at his touch, and he wanted more of it. He wanted to see what else of her he could turn colors.
“No,” she said a little too quickly. “I…thought you were a nightmare. I’m still not sure you aren’t.”
That snapped him back to reality. Shook him out of his wandering fantasy. If the idiots of Under knew she had found her way into his sleeping mind, she would be in danger. The girl was harmless—she did not deserve to suffer for his reputation.
And, perhaps, he wished to see her again. He could do not do such a thing, if she were dead or maimed.
“You must not tell anyone that we have spoken. Do not speak a word that you know anything of me.”
“What will happen if I do?”
“It will mean your life, little one. They will kill you in a heartbeat, the Fall be damned, if they learn that I have drawn you—even unwittingly—into my mind.”
“But why?”
The answer for that question was far too long and lengthy. And truth be told, he did not wish to speak of how the others loathed him. How they all despised him. Reluctantly, he removed his clawed hand from her. “You wish to wake up, do you not?”
“Yes, please.”
“But you are drugged and cannot do so on your own.”
“I don’t think so…?” She was nervous. She sensed the sudden shift in the danger he posed. Good. Smart girl.
“I suspect I know how to force the matter.”
“What do you mean?”
“What is your name, my dear?”
“Lydia.”
Lydia. How perfect. “Well, Lydia,” he purred out her name and found he loved the sound of it. His voice made her skin flood with goosebumps, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to change his mind. “it is a distinct pleasure to meet you. My name is Aon, and you will come to fear me.”
Before she could react, he moved—and drove the fingers of his clawed gauntlet deep into her ribcage.
And it felt glorious.
