a/n – For those who may be like, ‘bitch, where tf have you been?!’ and didn’t check my message board.

This month is officially a ‘Chapter Month’ on Patreon and my website, meaning extras will be replaced by updates! Meaning MORE UPDATES FOR EVERYONE!

I’m aiming for 8-10 updates between OMEGA and Aiasthlyn this month, and you get them all after they’ve moved through the tiers

Those paying will get updates up to a week before they are released on public platforms, so there was a gap at the start (this chapter was up since last Sunday over there), but you can expect chapters to roll in weekly now!

Chapter 51 is already up now for the Gold Tier on my website and Patreon, and same for the latest update of Aiasthlyn, but chapter 51 will be here, same time next week, for ya’ll!

Link in my bio and on my message board for anyone who wants to skip ahead!

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a/n – you’ll see ‘torc’ a bit in reference to the collar sometimes, and it’s another, more formal word for it

———

Aiasthlyn

°

Light sparks beneath my fingertips in little bolts that singe my skin, but I ignore the dull ache while I work my torch. It is a clumsy rendition of the culling blade I should be using for a task so sacred, but it is the very best I can manage in this realm, and thus far, it has managed its task splendidly.

Craftsmanship was hardly my trade, but I make it so as I form what so few were blessed enough to.

Slow and meticulous, I work in the muted silence, my mind for once at perfect peace. It was not a state I often achieved on my own, not without my pisen close and in my arms, but as I form his collar, the stillness renders all else null.

My workstation is a simple one, compounded by a pot of the powdered minerals of Malcolm’s rendered pebbles, a golden webbing of promises I could not yet speak, but would not let him walk without, and, at the center, the emerging corner of my pisen’s collar as I melded them both together.

The reformed silver shines, as rich and bright as Ythene’s moonlight. The outer shell perfectly smooth, and thick enough to hide the declarations engraved into its core, a secret to be kept by the only one I trusted to keep them. The scent that rises is one I know well, that of wet stone and fresh dew, and it is one that compels my soul as I remake my pisen’s gift into an offering deserving of a man so wholly beautiful.

I suppose it was always a matter of time, collaring Malcolm. Impossible to comprehend, unthinkable and blasphemous, but even then, inevitable.

I could never picture how, for a realm like this was no place to collar a pisen, and I was set to leave, but then I found Malcolm’s pebbles. Riverside and mountain pebbles, all in the colouring of his eyes, my favourite hue, and all carrying the very minerals that made up my own home river.

He knew nothing of my culture or his, nothing of his nature, and yet, clueless as he was, he’d managed to initiate the first phase of a claiming ritual, blindly encouraging the marrying of our souls.

Where panic should have arisen, a quiet stillness was all that surfaced, because it all became very simple in that moment. He, a pisen too precious for any world, wanted his torc, and I, his pyro, would see it done.

I would collar Malcolm.I would bind our souls.And somehow, against law and rites, I would return for my pisen.

Up until now, that was not a reality I allowed myself to entertain, for it was not a conceivable possibility— life with Malcolm after the Charge. Now, it was the very opposite.

Life with Malcolm was the only reality I would have.

The only question that remained was how.

If I could take him and keep him there forever, it would be so very easy, laws be damned, but Malcolm was not just light and love. He was eternal, and he had a life in that eternity— family. He would wither without Wequie and that gnat he called a friend.

He had to be able to return, and often at that, which is where the real trouble began.

Elven law rebelled against it, against non-elven creatures entering and all travel between realms, but that specific law had been implemented by a former Protector, and if there was room to breach it for my Charge, then there would be room to breach it again.

I had to uncover why it was in place first, and I would only do that particular task once I was home and able to access their accounts, but whatever the true reason was, I would make a case to have it undone. And my case would be heard when I harnessed the absolute authority of my predecessors.

Even so, there would still be kinks to it, like how I would have Malcolm come and go without other elves seeking to do the same, but that could be managed— had to be, so that Kalem was not uncovered. I could not risk his happiness for my own; that was not a price to pay.

There was also the uproar I would face for choosing a consort as king without approval or notice, one from another realm, and of another species, and worse than any of that, for claiming a pisen without going through a single one of the proper rites.

There would be resistance, trouble even, but if there was a way through then I would find it, and if there was not, I would carve it out myself.

Come what may, Malcolm and I would be together.

A knock upon the door forces me to draw my torch away as my pisen’s light burns from the other side. It has been a long time since we have closed a door between us, even longer since I have not had him near while I worked, but a pisen could not glimpse their torc before the moment they were to wear it, so separation had been enforced.

Malcolm had managed well thus far, but even I had felt the strain of the last hirt.

Opening a corner drawer, I unfasten the lid of the glass casing from inside and carefully place each item inside, torch included, before enshrouding it in my magic. “Come, pisen,” I call as I shut the drawer, and Malcolm is quick to heed the call. He stumbles into the room, less composed than I know him to be, and I smile to myself as I watch him hurry to correct himself. “Is something the matter?”

“No, no,” he dismisses as he straightens and dusts at nothing. “I just…” Frenzied eyes dart from me to the table, and then the corner of the desk where his collar hides. Sensing it with that same secret power he has to intuit me, Malcolm shudders as his pupils blow within his irises.

He steps forward, but I shake my head as I stand from my chair. “No, pisen. Not yet.”

He stops, blinking as though he has just escaped a haze. He looks to me, and I glimpse him flush. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to look,” he promises while he watches me close in on him.

“I know,” I whisper as I bring his lips to mine for a chaste kiss. When he whines and leans forward, I reward him with another. “You are eager— that is no fault of yours. It falls to me to handle you.”

Malcolm swallows, and there is no mistaking his pleasure or his excitement as his gaze darts towards the desk again before returning with a hopeful smile. “Is it going well?”

My heart thunders, and the beginnings of his collar vibrates in answer. “Very,” I whisper, and he beams. “But I will not be able to finish if you keep distracting me, pisen,” I say while tracing his smooth jaw.

Malcolm tenses for the second that passes before he realises that I am teasing. His smile quirks as he slips closer to breathe me in. “I came to tell you that I made your lunch,” he reports readily, proudly. “I could bring it here for you, but I thought perhaps you might want it in the kitchen.”

I hum while I drift my fingers from his chin to his neck, only just managing to contain my smile.

I did not know if Malcolm thought he was being subtle, but there was something inexplicably adorable about my pisen trying to coax me to eat with him when all he had to do was ask.

“Lead the way,” I say, dropping my hand to his. Malcolm’s smile is radiant as he grips my hand and does just that.

The meal I find is nothing short of a feast, a serving of my favourite vegetables and fruits in this realm, seasoned and prepared by my pisen’s dutiful hand. I groan my delight and make him taste it as I pull him to me and ravish his mouth until his knees give and he has to cling to me to stand.

It is a beautiful sight, and one I revel in before I drag him with me, fixing him onto a stool before I slide onto the one beside him. My stomach churns, hungry now that food is available, and I thank Ythene yet again for such an attentive pisen.

I had grown used to working without pause and eating the dishes left in my offices only after my work was done, but Malcolm troubled himself when I missed meals, paced nearby and fussed and fibbed until somewhere along the line, the habit faded.

“You have not told me of the clan,” I say as I lift my fork for the first serving. “Not in enough detail.”

There was not enough time to, when I had spent the last two days inside of him.

Malcolm flushes, but pushes past it to tell me all about Alexander, the vampire leader fiercer than her age should permit, the clan of young, rebellious vampires who had fallen under their wing. They were set to make a wonderful first addition to Lincoln’s clan, and with their arrival at his black castle, signal the true start of the war.

He also tells me about the tournament of ‘tag’ that had brought it to fruition.

“You ran from them in the moonlight to show your strength?” I frown. “I would think this would achieve the opposite.”

“It was a game,” Malcolm explains around a set of chuckles while his feet endeavour to warm mine.

“Yes, the aforementioned ‘tournament’, but—”

He stops me with a snort and the pitched laugh that follows. “Aias, it was not a tournament. Just a fun game of tag.”

I frown. Games and tournaments were one and the same, and yes, fun when you were winning, but only then.

“And that is the whole point of tag— running from others who are trying to catch you. The fact that I wasn’t caught is a good thing,” he explains, and I strain my mind to understand.

We had no game in my realm even close to this ‘tag‘, but as he explained it, Malcolm ran, was chased but not caught, and won respect for the running aspect of the mission.

My frown deepens. It made no sort of sense to me, but clearly it must have been a great feat in this realm or amongst vampires, and since my pisen achieved it, praise was in order.

I look to him and make my expression serious. “You did a great thing, yes. Congratulations on your escape, pisen.”

Grey eyes stare back at me for a long moment before he bursts into another fit of laughter, this one louder and unrelenting. “Aias!” Malcolm screams, and my heart beats strangely as I watch him bask in his joy. “Oh Gods,” he clutches his stomach. “What in all the Hells is wrong with you?”

I frown. “Nothing is wrong with me. This tournament—” his laughter turns into howling. “This game makes no sort of sense, but I am still supporting you. How does that imply something is wrong with me? I am well.”

Malcolm can not breathe.

Head pressed to my shoulder, he wheezes, and I stare, both annoyed and entranced because I am not sure I have ever seen him laugh so much. It is its own sort of gift, like his smiles, and I treasure it all the same, even if it is nonsensical.

“Oh Gods,” he sighs when he regains himself, though barely, for his eyes are wet and he is still clawing at his stomach when he lifts his head. “Oh Gods, Aias… I can’t remember the last time I laughed that much.”

“Oh?” I mumble while I finish off the last of my food. Internally, my heart celebrates without restraint.

Malcolm shakes his head, expression turning almost pained as he tries to calm himself down. “You are the funniest in the strangest of ways.”

I huff. “I do not aim to be, I assure you,” though perhaps that was not true, for I had developed an addiction to making Malcolm laugh. It just had never been like this, and I usually was aware of what I did when it did happen. That had been irregular. “And I think you are the only person who would deem me as such.”

“What? Funny?” He asks, finally sobered, though a relaxed smile still clings to his lips. I nod. “They must not get your humour.”

“Must not,” I agree even as my chest warms and my magic gathers around him.

Smiling fondly, Malcolm stares at me just as I do him, and I memorise the picture of joy. My mind adds to the image, a collar cuffing his neck, and I groan as I raise my hand to trace across his throat. He swallows beneath it, eyes glittering.

“Will it be soon?” He asks earnestly, as though he’s barely restrained himself from asking.

“As soon as I can manage it,” I promise, and he smiles, relaxing as though it already sits on his neck and carries my magic. “It will suit you well.”

That was an understatement. His torc would rival all others, and match his elegance entirely. I would have it no other way.

“Yeah?” He prods, as though he does not believe it, as though there is a chance of anything else.

He thinks there is, because for some terrible reason, Malcolm is incapable of casting his own kindness onto himself.

“Yes,” I reply firmly, fingers tightening as I do. “Do not dare doubt that.” His lashes flutter as he sighs wistfully, softening for me so sweetly that I loathe my next words, but I have to speak them. “But Malcolm,” he forces his eyes open, the trust in them piercing, “this will be a serious affair.”

“I know.” He sits up, grasping my wrist instead of my fingers as his gaze turns pleading. “I know, but I want it. Don’t take it away. You can not—”

“Pisen,” it takes only the whisper to quiet him, but more to calm him. I press my palm to his chest, spreading my fingers wide. “You will wear my collar, whether now or in the future. That is not what we are discussing here.”

Malcolm melts again, his entire body relenting. I wait for his breathing to calm before speaking again. “I want you to understand what it is before it happens. It— wearing my collar is… not easily undone, pisen.”

Some would argue otherwise. Many, in fact, for what easier spell was there to undo than love? But a torc between a pisen and pyro required dedication from both that rivalled all else, and I already knew that mine would never fade where Malcolm was concerned.

“You would not be able to remove it yourself,” I whisper even as some selfish part of me rebels. “Only I would be able to, and I…” I gaze at him, letting him see what I do not say aloud.

I would never take it off.

Malcolm’s eyes glow, the pulsing red returning as he leans towards me, drugged. “Good.”

“Malcolm, think of it,” I urge while I war with myself not to bask in his blind offering, for it was blind. “That is a power above all others that you would be giving to me.”

“Good,” he purrs, resting against me until his lips press to mine. “I want you to have everything.”

“Malcolm,” I groan as I draw back, relenting under the waning force of my sanity, but he chases after me.

“All my life, I have wanted someone like you,” he whispers as he slips from his stool and onto me, trusting me to hold him, and I do. I keep him steady, his size a dream as he completely settles himself into my lap. “Someone to see me… to want me, even knowing everything that I want.” His palms slide up my chest, feather-light with their slight tremble.

“I did not think I could have such a person,” he whispers before taking a breath. “And then I met you and…” He gazes down at me as though I am the special find when he is gold reincarnate. “…You’re even better than I dreamed.”

His smile returns, fragile as it is. It is no less beautiful.

“You know what I want and give me more— what I need,” he flushes, slowing as his most vulnerable truths get to him. “You give me so much and do not ask anything of me other than to be good for you, and now you are telling me that I can have a piece of you forever.”

“Not forever,” I try, even as the words burn at my tongue. “I can not promise you forever.”

“But it could be,” he whispers, and my heart beats too hard, too fast, swallowing the space between us. “It would be, if you did it.”

It would be. By the Realms, it would be.

He smiles as though he hears my confession for himself. “I want it, Aias. I want it so bad, it hurts.”

“I want you to have it, pisen,” I promise, bringing him closer, “and you will, but—” I still have so much to tell you. “We should be careful in this.” There will be repercussions. “You know only what I can share.” This might start an entirely new war.

Malcolm takes my hand in his, wrapping it around his throat, and smiling as he watches me unravel for him. “I am yours, Aias. No one else’s, ever.”

“Pisen…”

“Yours,” he whispers, eyes alight. “Forever.”

I can not tell him.

Not of my plans, not of my heart or our future.

The realisation settles within me like a heavy stone that has been falling, but I have only just noticed. It takes the air from me.

I could not tell him…If I did, told him of my plans to return, to fight for a future all would resist, he would devote himself to the chance of it, even knowing the door to my realm might never open again. He would stand where I left him, and guard the spot forever.

I could not do that to him, could not take his life in such a way, not before I knew our future was assured, and he knew who I was to my people, of my title or the one he would share when he stood at my side.

He was too fragile, too sweet, but… if I did not tell him…

“Forever, Aias,” Malcolm purrs the word, and it nuzzles into my mind, settling in the corners that already curve for him.

I almost whisper the words back, almost speak aloud the adages of devotion I have already written for his collar, but I rein it in before he hears them. Instead, I reply with words he can not later fault.

“If it is what you want.”

He smiles. “It is.”

The stone sinks deeper while my heart soars. “Then you shall have it, pisen.”

—————————————

Should we have met in my realm, Malcolm’s collar would be awarded in a setting far grander than this, and it would’ve been followed by a celebration that lasted for many feens.

It would be an extravagant affair, for claiming a pisen was considered too special not to be witnessed.

I had attended such an affair only once, and while it had been as awe-inspiring as it was promised to be, I had almost wished to have never witnessed it at all, for as wonderful as it was, it was intimate.

The way the pisen had looked at their pyro… it felt wrong to observe.

For the very first time since I have entered this realm, I am grateful that we are not in mine, for today, it is only Malcolm and me, and I could dream of nothing better.

Malcolm trails after me, the swaying grass caressing us both as I follow the sound of travelling water. Its sound coaxes me closer, transporting me home as I approach the one force of nature I have avoided in this realm.

It was too vulnerable, leading myself to the source of power— exposing that in this viperous place, but… the risk is worth it, for him.

We walk on until the grass gives way to the river’s bank, and I can not quiet the joy that ripples through me as I lay eyes on it myself. A modest stream, untouched and beautiful under the moonlight, and utterly perfect for him.

I turn, meeting his grey eyes that shimmer already, and my heart beats faster.

This was right.

Stepping to him, I do not part our gazes as I curl my fingers under the hem of his shirt. He breathes in, and I let him see my smile before lifting it, carefully tugging the thin material over his head. Malcolm’s eyes shine brighter when they meet mine again.

He watches me while I fold it with care, setting it down on the pebbled banks before I reach for his trousers’ buttons. His breath hitches, but he remains pliant and good as I free him from them too, and the thin fabric beneath.

I fold those as well, and when I straighten next, my Malcolm wears nothing beyond the oil that glistens on his skin.

“Are you ready?”

Malcolm does not hesitate to nod. “More than I have ever been for anything.”

Smiling, I reward him with a kiss before I lead him forward, leaving my glamour behind with his clothes so that we both are exposed.

The water greets us warmly, lapping at our ankles, calves and then no higher as we reach its shallow center. Malcolm says nothing, trusting me entirely, and when I gaze at him next, he needs no instruction to slowly sink to his knees.

I breathe in, holding it until the pressure is great enough to challenge the emotion that almost takes me down with him. I do not think I have ever seen a more glorious sight.

A thought is all that’s needed to bring his collar, cocooned in its protective casing, to me, and the moment it arrives, Malcolm squirms.

He shifts beneath me while a pillar of water rises, acting as the unmovable platform I set the casing on while I watch my pisen. He is physically incapable of culling his anxiousness— too excited and too nervous— and so his collar vibrates in an echoed response.

“Pisen,” I whisper, and he is quick to shift his gaze, bringing reddened eyes to mine. They shine beneath his lashes, emotion suddenly choking him, just as it does me.

Malcolm breathes in deeply and clenches his thighs. “Yes, pyro.”

“Thank you for being patient,” I praise as I take his face in my hands, my touch gentle and devout, as it always should be. “Thank you for being patient with me.”

I speak not only of the collar, but Malcolm does not hear it as he begins to protest. I shush him before he can refute my gratitude.

“You have been patient, pisen,” I assert as I peer down at him. “You have been patient and sweet, and so good for me. From the moment we met, all you have been is good.”

A heavy breath breaks past Malcolm’s lips as he blinks past the moisture in his eyes. He bites his lip to stop it from trembling, and I rub my thumb along its contours until he frees it for me.

“I have never thought to claim another, never yearned for it…” Never thought myself worthy, “but Malcolm—” I hold his gaze as I draw close so that he will never question this moment or the truth of my words, “it is my honour to claim you.”

The sound Malcolm makes as his tears spill free tells a tale far crueller than he would ever share, for if spoken in words, he would add smiles to soften the truth of his loneliness, but I hear it now. I hear how deeply he has longed for this, for another to want him and guard him as I have— as I will continue to. He does not doubt it here, for once, that someone does want him.

If only he knew that I have yearned for him from the moment I first glimpsed his features in paint.

“Are you ready?” I ask again, checking one more time, because he deserves it. Malcolm deserves everything.

Malcolm nods so hard he jostles us both as his hands come up to rest over mine. “Yes. Y-Yes please, Aias— pyro. Please.”

I smile, and he sees it in full before I press a gentle kiss to his lips, I can not help myself, and draw my hands away. Malcolm’s fingers clutch his knees again, holding tight while mine reach for the casing I had made with the same detail and reverence I had used for his collar.

Its silvered swirls are fanciful, beautiful, and spelled to fog the treasure beneath. I lift the lid of it, and Malcolm stops breathing entirely. As if deluged by bloodlust again, he does not blink or move as he stares transfixed, waiting. I do not draw it out, not for this.

I turn it to him, finally letting him look while my eyes remain transfixed on him.

Malcolm gasps. It’s quiet, but I hear it, just as I see his bottom lip fall open as he takes in his collar.

A torc was meant to match its pisen, and I had no trouble in crafting what I knew my pisen would like. Malcolm may harbour the proclivity for grandeur at times, but those moments were spattered. On most occasions, he was a calm creature who appreciated simple yet fine things.

His collar was just that.

A simple silvered chain with links that looped into each other and fed all the way around to the last links, which remained open, waiting to be sealed. It gleamed like the moonlight bathing us, but was as smooth as the stones it had been crafted from. Inside, my devotion burned bright and called to Malcolm’s, silent but there.

Malcolm stares at it, not speaking and no longer breathing, and while my heart does race, it is not from nervousness, for I know that he loves it. His flowing tears assure me so.

“Aias,” he whispers, so softly my ears are forced to twitch. “Is this…” His mouth falls open, fear trickling into him as he clings to me. “I-Is this really happening?” He looks to me then, gaze pleading and brimming with pain in the one place it should not be.

The river’s current quickens as my heart shatters, breaking where shame and anger surge in me at the brutality of this world inflicted upon a creature so sweet, but anger was not what he needed.

“This is your collar, Malcolm,” I assure soothingly. “It is yours.”

Malcolm starts breathing again, sucking in sharp, rapid breaths as though he is trying to make up for all he has lost. “Please,” he whimpers between them, and I surrender.

I do not waste time removing the casing before I lift his collar from its open edges. Malcolm presses closer, offering his neck while his wet eyes search mine, and I hold them without blinking as I slide it around his throat.

“Oh Gods,” he whimpers the second the warm weight settles. “Aias.”

“I know, but wait for me,” I beg as I bring the links together. “I have to close it so that you can never take it off.”

Malcolm swallows to contain his sob, but nods slightly while he waits, my sweet pisen. Whilst the blade had done the work in creating his collar, it is my magic that is needed to seal it, and more than that, the emotion I have run from from the moment Malcolm started chipping at me.

I run no more.

Holding my pisen’s watery gaze, I focus my magic at my fingertips and my heart on my Malcolm.

My Malcolm, who is so kind that he opens his doors to all in need. My Malcolm, who is too sweet for the battles he has fought, and the wars before him.

My Malcolm, who is smarter than any creature I have ever met, but no less empathetic. My Malcolm, who saw me and knew that we were meant to be. 

My Malcolm, who fought for me to see him when I tried not to, who asked for so little when he deserved the world.

My Malcolm, who had reminded me what it meant to live, and want, and laugh and reclaim joys I did not realise I had lost whilst living.

My Malcolm, who… who I loved.

The links meld together, a buzz of magic quivering into it before the collar is sealed and Malcolm is made forever more mine. He jolts, shaking as I draw my hands back and gaze at him.

By Ythene…

I almost fall into the water, almost give myself to the tides that rise and rush around us, a mere echo of the excitement I can not cull in this moment. Not when Malcolm kneels before me, beautiful and strong, and wearing my collar.

Love and relief overwhelm me, rising high now that I have addressed it. I can barely cope with it, with the way it fills me, pressing against my most tender places and my sharpest ones too. It brings moisture to my eyes that I have to blink away just to see him.

He shivers beneath me, overwhelmed and waiting, breath held again as though he is just waiting for me to say what he should already know.

“You are so beautiful, Malcolm,” I whisper, and my pisen does not need to speak, for I see what those words do to him through his collar.

Its silvered links burn and morph into a blaring gold that can only mean happiness, spades of it. I stare, transfixed, heart beating too quickly to realise that Malcolm is rising. When I do, he is already on me and clutching me so tightly that my heartbeat becomes his.

He sobs into my neck as he clings to me with all his strength, and as his collar burns hot between us, I hold him closer, squeezing him just as tight.

Neither of us had said it, but we would not be here if it were not true.

Love burned between us, and no realm or law could ever take that away.

————

😭😭😭😭😭😭

I’m too damn emotional for these twooooo

Thoughts??????

Thoughts on Aias’ POV? On the chapter? With him making the collar, their talk and then the collaring?????

If you loved the river setting, you have my editor to thank cause her first note was its not special enough and then I thought of the river and magic was born ughhhhhh.

On one hand, I hate Aias for the first time cause SIR??!?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’LL COLLAR AND LEAVE HIM AND PLAN TO COME BACK, BUT NOT TELL HIM.

But on the other its like, you can’t tell him cause he would set up shop and wait forever, but then DON’T collar him if that’s the case, but Malcolm wants it and they both do and they’re in love and ahhhhhhhh

THEY’RE IN LOVE AND MALCOLM DOESN’T EVEN KNOW IT YET UGHHHHH

Malcolm thinks its just him at this stage oh God. This just keeps getting better and sadder, I fucking can’t JESUS 

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It damn near killed me to get just right, but I think I did! If you want to skip ahead, Chapter 51 is already up on Patreon and my website for the Gold Tier

Next one should be out next weekend or even sooner! I’ll keep yall posted in the chats

Until next time,
Tippy