Malcolm

°

I remember the first time I felt love.

Most creatures could not, for when the feeling first arose, they were often too young to retain the memory or recognise it for the gift that it was.

I had lived for many years before I felt it, so the memory remained true.

It was shortly after we, the Prota Generation, had rid this world of our markers. In the moments right after, while their blood was still heated where it pooled from their dismembered pieces and sank into the scorched earth.

We had all looked at one another in the stillness, none daring to move beyond flitting gazes in fear that a single twitch might resurrect them and commence our hell anew.

I remembered the look in Lysander’s, the fourth’s, eyes— the utter fear that I then found doubled in Diablos’.

“They are dead.”

Lincoln had been the one to break the stillness and shatter the fear, the one to free us all. One by one, we moved, dared to believe it, and as we all shared disbelieving, relieved gazes, I felt it then.

I felt love.

It was so pure, even with all the blood and horror. What sprouted there that day had been pure and innocent, and the first warmth I had ever felt.

I did not know it was love then, but I learned as time passed.

I felt it again the first time Lincoln came to my rescue after four decades of tailing him, then a hundred times more in the years that followed as I stood by his side. I felt it with Wequie the first time we proposed to him an adventure and the promise of a new family.

It grew and changed each time, warping when it appeared for the few I had believed would love me too. Those had burned the brightest, and yet faded the fastest, but it was alright— understandable even.

Love was a gift I was lucky enough to know amongst those I called friends and family. More was being greedy. More was striving for what a creature like me could never be granted.

And then, Aias stood above me in a river’s rippling stream, collared me and called it an honour, and love had shown me just how beautiful it could be.

Now, it burned through me like lava, morphed into something that paled in comparison to all I’d felt before, and then bigger still whenever I glimpsed at it. My collar.

I stare at it now, until my eyes burn and my heart threatens to beat, but even then I don’t look away.

I can not because it is proof. Real, glaring proof of what I had barely dared to believe but now could no longer deny.

What existed between Aias and me was more than communion, more than understanding and wanting— it was love, and… more. Much more, and even if neither of us had dared to say it yet, I felt it.

Aias was mine, and I was his, until each star in the universe lost its light, and then in whatever came after.

“So excited to see your friend?”

I turn away from the bathroom mirror and find my eternal match standing opposite, shoulder pressed against the open doorframe.

He looks good, and Aias always looked good, but now, he looks stunning.

His body is a work of art, muscles corded where the cellars had sought to wilt them. They leave him harsher in appearance, solid with fine, carved lines for features, but with me, with those golden eyes that smoulder, he is soft and beautiful.

“Always,” I reply, just to tease, “but you know that is not what you feel.”

“What I feel?” He challenges, pushing from the doorframe. “What do you know of what I feel, pisen?”

“I know you feel my joy through this,” I answer, matching his growing smile with one of my own while I trace the edges of our collar.

“Suspect,” he parries, eyes alight.

“Know,” I correct, and I watch him bite back a widening smile. It grows against his wishes, and when he reaches me, it blooms full. “You feel it all.”

I free my collar to hold onto him. He is close enough now to keep it safe, and he does just that, watching it closely while I watch him.

Aias had opened up since the night he first bedded me, but even then, there was always that invisible wall between us, thin as it was. Always him straining to keep his expressions neutral, his heart uninvolved.

It is gone now, the wall and the effort, and it leaves him exposed to me.

His shoulders rest without added height, relaxed. His sharp golden eyes, no longer so cautious, but left open to see me as I do him. His long straight hair, actually curled slightly at the bottom as if he’s forgotten to perfect that too.

I lift a loc of it, and tease it between my fingers while he thumbs my hips. “You think he will make a matter of it?”

“Either that or he will try to ignore it,” I answer with a laugh. “Lincoln knows of this part of me, and supports it in his way, though he likes to remain separate.” I smooth my hands over his chest, soothing myself with the mighty beat within. “But do not worry— he will not try to remove it, if that is what you are thinking.”

“He would no longer have hands should he even think it,” Aias dismisses as his expression turns stern. I have to swallow to stifle myself. “And none other can remove it. I told you this, pisen.”

“Yes…” I hum as I lean in. “Yes, you did.”

I kiss him, thrilled that I can, that I am welcomed, and wanted, and Gods… how am I this lucky? Aias parts my lips with his, dipping his tongue inside, and I welcome him with fervency.

My body vibrates and then shudders, sharing the need that escapes my collar and seeps into my bones as though answering the pure joy that rattles through me.

“Does that excite you, pisen?” He asks between kisses as his hands slide to my ass and squeeze.

I moan and nod. “Yes, Master.”

Aias’ eyes are a shade darker when they meet mine. “You are lucky we have to go.”

“Unlucky,” I correct, pouting, and as he chuckles, my frown disappears.

“Yes, perhaps, but we must. So let us go and see how the wench reacts.”

———————————————

Lincoln stares at me as though I have a bomb wrapped around my neck.

He thinks he’s being subtle, probably hoping that I did not see him trip over his feet at the start, but I did, and he is not.

He stares at me and my collar, eyes unblinking, body a stoned thing that stands out even more when the elven angel-demon at his side bounds around the kitchen with uncapped joy. He is in better spirits since the last time I saw him, and it has nothing to do with my collar.

I’m not sure Kalem has even noticed it.

“Would you like something to drink?” Kalem offers, already opening the fridge.

“Water is fine, young one,” Aias replies with that gentle tone he reserves for Kalem, who beams, happy to serve. While he grabs a glass from one of the cupboards, Aias palms the base of my spine, preening secretly when it makes Lincoln’s fingers twitch.

Kalem delivers Aias his water and disappears, only to reappear with a fresh blood bag all for me. I take it, more than a little stunned. He wears his smile for me as I take it, fingers steepling with clear nerves.

I rather liked Kalem, but I suppose we hardly interacted directly and did not have a relationship of any kind. That would have to change.

“Thanks, K,” I say, and Kalem practically combusts before he returns eagerly to Lincoln’s side. He lifts another blood bag for Lincoln, and I watch Lincoln remember how to act like a normal person— well, normal for him— as he takes it with a grateful smile.

“Thank you, love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Kalem’s already flushing cheek.

I worry he might faint with the way he thrums in his place, overjoyed and at peace. It is a welcome sight, especially with all Aias had unloaded about his origins.

“How have you been?” He asks, as if sensing my line of thought. He looks straight at Kalem as he asks, “Have there been any changes since you returned home?”

Home. Did Aias even realise that he’s called Lincoln’s castle that for Kalem, when to me he named it a ‘viper’s rotten scale turned residence’.

“No,” Kalem answers as he presses into Lincoln’s side. “I’m being really good, and I’m super happy since Master’s home.”

Kalem nods as if to fortify his own declaration, and Aias smiles kindly at him before shifting his attention to Lincoln. The room chills as he does, but before I can fret, he drags his hand away from my spine to let his knuckles graze up and down my arm.

I shudder and busy myself with my blood bag.

Aias had started touching me more and more in front of others, and whether it was a simple touch like this or what we did in front of Wequie, it affected me all the same.

It made me feel wanted, and treasured, but above all, loved.

“Do you think we can speak more of our situations today?” He asks, aiming this at Kalem, tone gentle again, but before Kalem can answer, Lincoln cuts in.

“Before we do that, I’d like to have a conversation with you.”

My blood bag runs dry, leaving a loud slurping sound behind just as my stomach threatens to bottom out of me. I straighten, panic, and watch the same panic engulf Kalem’s eyes.

Good. I was not the only one who smelt blood.

I look to Aias, but his gaze remains fixed again, pinned on Lincoln.

Say no. Say no. I beg silently, willing the thought towards my collar in hopes that he will hear it and listen.

I had no problem with Lincoln and Aias talking, but them talking alone? After Aias just collared me? It had ‘disaster’ written all over it, and I loved Lincoln to the ends of this world, but I did not need him butting in when Aias and I had only just found our footing.

Aias ignores my stare and my plea, studying Lincoln until his fingers stop their grazing and he nods.

“Very well.”

My frozen heart drops.

Lincoln does not waste any time. He leaves Kalem with a kiss atop the head and heads out of the kitchen. Kalem looks at me, but I look at the elf who tries to leave, catching his wrist instead.

“Do not—”

“He will keep his grimy hands, pisen. Do not fret,” Aias soothes, teasing, but I shake my head.

“Do not get angry with him. He will merely be looking out for me.”

“I am aware,” he replies, gaze fond as if he finds my fussing amusing or cute.

“Do not let him sway you,” I beg, plead really. “We are good and… I like us as we are.”

Aias’ smile fades, the humour slipping away as he sees my fears for what they are, or feels them. He straightens to his full height to take my face in his hands so that I am looking him straight in his eyes.

“Nothing can sway me from you,” he murmurs hoarsely. “Not in this realm, or mine.”

My heart gives, strains, and tries to beat while I gaze at him until I find the strength to nod. He smiles, pleased. “Wait here with Kalem. I will be back soon.”

I nod again and receive a squeeze of my hand as a reward before Aias peels away and follows Lincoln’s path.

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to relax and ease it out as I turn to Kalem. He stands right where Lincoln left him with a large smile that wobbles a little from nerves.

Right. Well, if there was one thing I was good at, it was making friends.

“You did not get anything for yourself,” I say, making for the fridge. “What do you want? On me?”

“Oh, um…” Kalem murmurs before he comes to my side and peeks in. “Apple juice? I like apples, but I had some this morning— apple juice and apples. Master says too much juice isn’t good.”

“Well, Lincoln does not have to know what we don’t tell him,” I return, and I watch his eyes gleam as I reach inside.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” Kalem asks, and when I glance at him, he tilts his head towards where Aias and Lincoln had disappeared. “Master doesn’t like Aias very much, and Aias… really doesn’t like Master.”

“That is true, but they both like us,” I remind him and myself. “They will make it work because of that.”

Kalem nods, still gnawing on his lips, and I stare at him while I pour him a cup of juice.

This boy was somehow not a boy at all, but an ancient elven creature more powerful than Aias, and he did not even know it, or remember it. He had about twenty years of human memory to his name and nothing more, but where was he before that?

I had walked this earth for far longer, and had never heard a peep about a creature like him, never felt it or witnessed any display of power that was otherworldly, so where had he been for all that time before?

“How about we tell each other stories to distract ourselves?” I suggest as I slide the cup over to Kalem. He receives it eagerly and brightens.

“Stories? I love stories!” He pauses, wilting. “But I do not know very many. Master tells them to me.”

“That’s okay, we can tell each other a story we both have,” I reassure as I lean over the counter. “I’ll tell you all about how Lincoln and I met and became friends, and then you can tell me about how you and Aias became friends. Deal?”

Kalem beams and nods quickly. “Deal!”

———————————

Aiasthlyn

°

The welp is already sitting at his table when I enter after him, a prop throne for a bumbling idiot.

I do not rush myself for his sake. I keep to my pace, calmly closing the door behind me before I cross the space to fill one of the two chairs positioned opposite him.

He watches me throughout, dark eyes turning darker and poisonous despite our maintained silence, and it is a sight almost as visceral as the first glimpse I had gotten of him through Ythene’s vision.

If he hated me before Malcolm’s collaring, he seems to abhor me now.

I force myself not to smile.

“You seem bothered,” I start, initiating when it becomes clear that he lacks manners as he does sense. “Is it because of Malcolm’s collar or Kalem’s lineage?”

“Neither,” he replies without any show of surprise as he sinks back into the comfort of his large chair. “It is because of you.”

Well, at least he did not plan to waste either of our times pretending otherwise.

“And what is it about me that bothers you so?” I ask, maintaining my calm.

“What is it that you’re not sharing?” He asks pointedly. “I know there’s a lot, but I’m only concerned with the fraction of it that will affect Kalem and Malcolm.”

I stare at him, reading him and his barely contained emotions for the threat that it was.

The time that I spent with Lincoln was limited, but I had spent more than enough observing him, when he knew it and when he did not, and even more when Malcolm’s watchful eyes were closed.

I had learnt enough of my Charge to know that should I convey one statement he deemed wrong or harmful in regard to Malcolm, he would turn this castle into a pile of rubble in his attempt to kill me.

I wonder if Malcolm knew the extent of his friend’s protectiveness. Likely not.

Lincoln stares at me as I do him, looking for ins to stab at since I am yet to give him one, and I almost leave him to his feeble attempts, until his gaze shifts. It is subtle, the way his attention changes from stiff wariness to a sharper observation, but it is noticeable, likely because Malcolm had watched me the same way this morning.

He glances at parts of me rather than me— at my hair, my eyes, my body, noticing all the elements of it that no longer appear as they did when I first arrived in this realm.

I consider surrendering him to the phantasms of his own reasoning, as I had with Malcolm, but matters had changed since I collared my pisen. My realm and kingdom would war against my being with him, and while I already knew that I would not stand alone, I would need allies.

Allies from the most unlikely of places, and I was not proud enough to ignore the fact that my strongest possible ally was right in front of me. He just did not know it yet.

“It is difficult to maintain a second form for so long in a foreign realm,” I say, sealing him into a partnership he would not come to know until it was too late. “Slowly, my natural form is creeping to the surface.”

Black eyes narrow, just a measure, but he discards his interest a moment later, not in the mood to be distracted. “That’s nice, but that doesn’t answer the question I asked you.”

I smile, and this time, it is honest. “You do realise that I am under no obligation to give you any information, yes? What I choose for you to know is up to me and only me.”

Lincoln’s eyes roll like a spinning wheel’s. “Yes, yes, you’re powerful,” he all but groans. “You’re an elf, etcetera, etcetera— now answer the question.”

Laughter escapes me as I toss one leg over the other, and I almost loathe him for eliciting it with his whining, but there was something as amusing as it was refreshing about his distaste for subterfuge.

It did not make me like him— I suspected that I never would— but… yes, he would work.

“My name is Aiasthlyn Kethlana, first prince to the Anael throne and Protector of Ythene’s realm.” I reverse the crossing of my legs, and bob it slightly while I slam down barriers mightier than my castle walls around the room and free myself for the first time in one-too-many moons.

It is a freed clasp, a mental undoing of the skin I have lived in as ‘Aias’ and a welcoming of the one hidden beneath that is ‘Aiasthlyn’, and it feels good to be myself once more.

“Please do not speak my birth name, for you will butcher it,” I say as I amuse myself with the showing of pure shock that spreads through him as he watches light and power break from my core to tear the weaker edges of my mould away.

“There is nothing you need to know beyond that title and the weight it holds, should you ever face another of my kind,” Ythene forbid it, and she does. Blaring into the room is a wind that I am sure is meant to silence me, but if she did not want me finding allies, then she should not have left me unmanned.

“If you succeed in taking control of your species and help me teach Kalem to hide what he is, then there will be nothing for you to worry about from my kind. I will ensure Kalem is safe ‘on my end’. And he will be safe.”

When I finish, my truths spilt as openly as my form, I sit as the authentic form of myself before my Charge.

He appears shorter now, smaller too, his head tilted up a measure to gaze at me as I am. Instead of lean limbs, he finds the figure I had trained and sculpted through the ages. He gawks at me as though he has never seen such beauty, which is preposterous when he has spent the majority of his waking life with Malcolm at his side.

Still he gawks, shocked and struggling to compute all that I shared with him— all that is against elven law, but seeing as I have already broken two, what was breaking another?

“I believe that should be enough information to sate you for the moment,” I say when he remains stupidly silent.

Breaking finally, the blithering fool blinks away his shock and parts his lips. Nothing comes out.

I do not bother hiding my smile.

Scratching at his cheek, he searches for a place to start, and I leave him to find it.

“You are to be a king?”

Of all the things…

I nod, not bothering to tell him that I already am. He frowns. “And you’re in this realm… playing slave or Master with Malcolm.”

My smile disappears as though it never existed. “That, is an issue which does not concern you.”

“Are you sure about that?” He grits out, eyes flashing red. “You’ve said in the past that your realm is one for elves alone, and now you’re telling me that you’re a prince of that very realm. I predicted you leaving him, but I also predicted you returning to him. Was I right to believe that?”

I do not let my surprise show, nor do I allow the discomfort it triggers to be freed.

Predicted? As in he’d spoken about this to Malcolm, or were those thoughts he had kept to himself? And why was it that he asked the majority of his troublesome questions about the subject I had the very least answers to?

“I plan to deal with it,” I sigh with feigned indifference. “Once again, an issue that does not concern you.”

“Co—”

“How long do you think we have before they come seeking us out?” I cut in, striking where I know he will heed. “Use your time more wisely.”

His left eye twitches.

The stillness remains undisturbed before he finally gives, releasing a long, strained sigh that I recognise to be a mocking of my own. To think this lout was the center of my Charge.

“You called yourself Protector of your realm.” I allow a nod, and his lips work to one side. “If Kalem is a danger to you and the realm you’re supposed to protect, why are you trying to hide him?”

Because he is my friend.

Too sentimental a truth, I offer him what he will accept in a form that will bite at the time we have left. “When I take my vows to serve my realm and all its many beings, I intend to protect every single one of them, including Kalem. What he is may be something of an issue, but I am choosing to believe in the boy I know. Kalem is kind and loving— he will do well here in your protection, and my realm will continue to prosper while the two maintain distance.”

It was a truth I was choosing to make my reality, and whether or not it was what Ythene intended, it was what I would chase. For there was no world in which I slayed the boy who had held me through the bars, nor led another to this realm to do it for me.

“I once promised Kalem a visit to our realm, even before I knew what he was, and I have every intention to keep that promise,” I whisper. “Our realm is very big, with many different home planets, universes and colonies. It will not be an issue to have Kalem there once he learns to control all of his abilities.”

It would be. It would be a very big issue and require more planning than I could currently fathom, but I had made a promise, and I would not break it.

“Why does that sound like he has more?” the dimwit groans with noted exhaustion.

I laugh. How far out of his depth this man was. “Nothing more than the average elf, and nothing for you to grow hairs over. I plan to help him through all things pertaining to that part of him.”

Nodding, Lincoln releases a breath as he finally relents from his interrogation and sits with what he’s learned. He runs a hand through his short hair, a creature far more ancient than me, and yet no less disenchanted with the world and all it threw at him.

I suppose it never got easier. Was that a comfort or a tragedy? Perhaps both and neither, but he sat at the center of all of this, and so did Kalem. I had always wondered how, but now… as I stare at him…

“A Nyphilim has the potential to do good, just as they do the potential to wreak havoc,” I say, and he carefully lifts his gaze to me, listening. “If we take care of him, I firmly believe that Kalem can do quite a lot of good in this world you are creating for him.”

“With the vampires?” He asks, and I nod, hearing the truth of it for myself.

Kalem was a Nyphilim, meant in nature to lead elves and help them grow, and if vampires were elves, then… would it not make sense to lead them from the helm?

“When I first met Kalem, he was not a person,” I whisper, the words sticking in my throat just as the memories barb at my heart. Little time had passed since then, and yet so much had changed. “He was a shell mirroring the actions beaten into him. He could not even feel what he was, with how they pushed him into the skin of a perfect slave. But now, with you, he has found who he really is, and is finding more to him than he knew existed. The Kalem he is finding can be a real asset to your plans if you allow him.”

I stand then, forcing myself upright and back towards the eating room before I reveal any more or let him glimpse the emotion that weighs me. He had wanted to speak with me for answers, and instead, had accorded me with my own.

Ythene had led me straight to Kalem to find Lincoln, and I could not see that as any other intention but for her to use her last Nyphilim to protect her lost creatures.

Bring them home, she had said.

Only time would tell whether she meant Kalem or the vampires, or perhaps, both.

“There is something about Kalem that pulls the best parts from all those he comes into contact with,” I say, my final charity as I tug at the edges of my form to bring myself back to the vessel this realm knows. “He may not be able to share his gifts for good with Ythene’s realm, but perhaps… perhaps he can in this one.”

————————

“He still has his hands,” I complain as I enter the eating room my pisen still sits in, alone now though, with Kalem already long gone to check on that churl.

“Both of them?” Malcolm muses with a raised brow. “How very generous of you.”

“I am benevolent in nature,” I reply, meeting his teasing and earning a warm smile for it.

There is a chair left empty beside him, but I leave it vacant as I step into the space between his legs and take his face in my hands. It was always an effort not to touch him, but now I have to after we have separated, if only to calm the nerves inside of me that splinter when he is not near.

Malcolm peers up at me, gaze curious. “What did he say?”

“He asked after our relationship and my intentions with you,” I reply, choosing my words as quickly as I speak them. “Threatened me, somewhat. It was amusing at times.”

Malcolm loses a corner of his smile. “If he threatened you, then he meant it.”

“Oh, I know, pisen,” I soothe, wanting it back. “I know that you mean a great deal to him.”

“And him to me,” he replies, and I nod, despite the gnarly part of me that wants to seek jealousy. It would do no good here. Malcolm and Lincoln’s bond was not one to interfere with.

“What did you tell him?” He asks, and I can not help my frown. “Of your intentions with me?”

“Oh,” I hesitate, only for a moment, but it is a moment too long. Malcolm’s grey eyes sharpen and his collar chills. “What I have said to you, pisen— that you are mine.” I touch his collar, hoping to warm it. “That this makes you mine.”

The torc remains cold.

My heart stutters out of rhythm, panic making it erratic.

“That is all?” He asks, gaze unwavering. “I felt your magic. Something happened.”

“Yes, but that had nothing to do with what I told him of my intentions,” I retort carefully. “Is that not what you asked after?”

Malcolm eyes me until, slowly, I feel a touch of comfort that seeps into my fingertips as our torc returns to its brightest self. But I do not soon forget that chill. “I suppose.”

I do not allow myself to release the breath of relief that presses against my lips. “Why do I feel as though I have upset you?” I ask, making my tone playful, and it works, for Malcolm smiles softly as he shakes his head.

“You have not,” he dismisses as he stands and forces me back in the process. “I just had questions, but come. We should find them both, continue what we came for.”

I nod and follow, though I do not take my eyes off of him as my mind works.

“What did you and Kalem speak of?”

Malcolm glances at me, and there is something in his gaze, something that incites the panic again. “You. You and your intentions.”

I slow, but Malcolm does not. It is not until he is almost out the door that he turns to look after me. His expression is open and calm, his gaze terrifyingly insightful.

“What of them?” I dare to ask, and I feel my spirit squirm as I watch his smile grow.

“Nothing,” he retorts as he spins on his heels and carries on. “Nothing besides what you have said to me.”

———–

There is something so fucking terrifying about Malcolm when he’s thinking that I ADORE!

Thoughts?????????

Thoughts on that famous Lincoln-Aias chat from Aias’ POV??? On all the Easter eggs?? On Malcolm doing his own questioning in secret???

They may be subtle, but a lot was revealed/teased at in this chapter, the biggest of which was Aias making Lincoln a future ally!!!!!! AHHHH y’all aren’t prepared for how that will come into play in the future but I am soooo excited

I also loveeeee seeing Aias’ mind at work, like he really is planning everything out to be with his man and NOTHING is going to stop him, not Ythene or Lincoln lol

And then Malcolm at the end, ugh I love a smart couple and strategic characters

WE all know what comes next, so I hope you’re all buckled up!! 

Until next time,
Byeeeeeee Humansssssssss