Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/455167.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Diablotin
  Relationship:
      Earric_Boyne/Dozilva_do_Baru/Sanadhìl_Órecalo, Ephrimel/Sanadhìl_Órecalo
  Character:
      Sanadhìl_Órecalo, Earric_Boyne, Dozilva_do_Baru, Emkathon_Órecalo, Deznir
      Órecalo, Ephrimel
  Additional Tags:
      Dubious_Consent, Rape, Anal_Sex, Blood, Blood_Drinking, Bloodplay, Face
      Slapping, Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, Claws, Demon_Sex, Revenge_Sex, Hate
      Sex, Jealousy, Past_Relationship(s), Succubi_&_Incubi, Fallen_Angels,
      Teeth, Emotional_Manipulation, Forced_Orgasm, Polyamory, Unconventional
      Families, Parents_&_Children, Feathers_&_Featherplay, Fear, Torture,
      Pain, Group_Marriage, Wings, Future_Fic, Telepathy, Magic, Nipple
      Piercings, Crying, Protectiveness, Oral_Sex, Nipple_Torture, Genital
      Torture, Size_Kink
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-09 Words: 5079
****** Something Worth Keeping ******
by Nary
Summary
     Sanadhil threw open the door to the library and was confronted with a
     sight so strange and shocking it took him a moment to comprehend.
     Emkathon was struggling with a man - no, not a man, a creature,
     humanoid but bat-winged. The wrap she wore to leave her own wings
     free was torn and trailing, half-exposing her breasts, and her
     feathers were in disarray, all but standing on end in her fright. The
     demon had his clawed hands on her pale skin, and his mouth pressed
     against hers despite her panicked thrashing about. She managed to
     push away from him long enough to scream again - "Daddy, help!" She
     hadn't called San that since she was three, and hearing it from her
     mouth was almost as unsettling as everything else.
Notes
     Thank you to Measured_Words and Malkontent for all their helpful
     input and support! <3
See the end of the work for more notes
Sanadhil was almost to the bridge when he realized he had forgotten the book
he'd meant to return to the Castalia's library that afternoon. It was already
past due and he hated running up fines, hated feeling irresponsible. Besides,
Dozilva had reminded him the night before to return it, and he was reluctant to
make her have to remind him again. He considered leaving it for another day,
but he was early enough for his class that he had the time to go back if he
teleported there.
The house was quiet when he arrived on the doorstep. Arek and Dozilva had
planned an outing to visit Riverside Park and the Menagerie with Ilyana and
Solange, and Deznir was off doing... whatever he did with his days. Only
Emkathon was likely to be at home - she had been cleaning up after lunch when
he'd left her a short while ago, and had said she was planning to be in until
dinnertime, when she was going out to meet some friends.
He stepped into the house, relishing the rare moment of silence. The book was
upstairs in his study - he could visualize exactly where it was sitting on his
desk. As he climbed the stairs he heard a faint sound from above, soft
whispers, perhaps a moan. He paused, wondering if Emkathon, expecting to have
the house to herself, had invited a friend over. He was almost prepared to turn
around and leave, book or no book, when his daughter's voice suddenly rose in a
scream that had him up the stairs in an instant, running to the source of the
sound.
Sanadhil threw open the door to the library and was confronted with a sight so
strange and shocking it took him a moment to comprehend. Emkathon was
struggling with a man - no, not a man, a creature, humanoid but bat-winged. The
wrap she wore to leave her own wings free was torn and trailing, half-exposing
her breasts, and her feathers were in disarray, all but standing on end in her
fright. The demon had his clawed hands on her pale skin, and his mouth pressed
against hers despite her panicked thrashing about. She managed to push away
from him long enough to scream again - "Daddy, help!" She hadn't called San
that since she was three, and hearing it from her mouth was almost as
unsettling as everything else.
Racing through the various options of spells he might cast, Sanadhil realized
that getting Emkathon away from here had to be his first priority. She was
still young, only sixteen, and if this creature had his way with her, she
wouldn't survive long. He wasn't certain how much damage might already have
been done, but at least she was still standing, still trying to fight back.
I'll help you, he thought to her as he crossed the room, it'll be all right,
I’m here. When you're out, go find Mom and Dad. He had the swift etherealness
spell ready by the time he reached them, and cast it on her so that she
vanished from sight, shifting into another plane of existence just long enough
to escape from the demon’s grip and get away - he hoped.
Denied his prey, the creature turned on her rescuer. One clawed hand grabbed
Sanadhil by the throat, lifting him onto his tiptoes. "You," he said, drawing
the word out into a caress. "I didn't expect you." Sanadhil, although gasping
for air, nevertheless got his first good look at the demon - a succubus, he was
certain. Male-bodied, tall and slender and blond-haired, with eyes that glinted
red in a way that was terribly familiar. The creature reached out with its
other hand to stroke his hair, possessive, intimate as a lover, while digging
its claws further into the flesh of his neck. Deep enough to draw blood - San
felt a thin trickle run down his collarbone, or perhaps that was just sweat.
The demon's lips parted, tongue running over razor-sharp teeth, as he admired
his catch. "Yes, you'll do," he said at last. He pulled Sanadhil close, still
gripping him tight by the throat so that his vision blurred and he had to fight
not to pass out.
Suddenly the claws loosened, letting San drop to his knees on the floor,
choking for breath. He heard the creature grunt, more in surprise than pain,
and looked up to see a knife protruding from its side. The blade was held by
his youngest son Deznir, whose pale face was stubbornly set as he gave it a
twist and pulled it free. "Get out of here," San tried to tell him, but his
voice was raspy, he wasn't sure if he'd been understood.
"He's been watching us," Deznir blurted, sounding frightened, so very young.
The demon grabbed for him and missed, the slender boy dodging out of the way
too quickly, but he wouldn't be able to evade him for long.
"Go!" San shouted hoarsely. He wasn't about to lose any of his children to this
thing, not if putting himself in the creature's path instead would save them.
There was a time when that thought would have terrified him, but now it
suddenly seemed like the only possible course of action. He struggled to his
feet, sending the same telepathic message to Deznir that he'd given Emkathon -
Find Mom and Dad, fast as you can. He didn't add "I'll be fine," unwilling to
lie to his son. Deznir looked pained, but nodded and slipped away into the
Shadow Plane, where his attacker couldn't pursue him.
Sanadhil seized the creature's moment of distraction at yet another potential
victim's escape to try casting another spell. He stepped up behind the
succubus, planting a hand on its back and whispering the arcane words that
would, he hoped, overwhelm it. His hopes went unrealized - the demon shrugged
off both his grip and the effects of the spell, turning towards him with a
snarl on his beautiful face. "Back on your knees," he ordered San, who felt the
faint, familiar tingling of a spell that had failed to affect him. It had
probably been an attempt to compel him to obey - if that was the case, then the
demon plainly had no idea who he was dealing with.
Standing there, both panting, they faced each other, at a momentary impasse.
San thought about running, but he couldn't be sure he'd be the one being chased
- it wasn't worth the risk to his children. He desperately wished he hadn't
already used his only teleport for the day. The demon pressed a hand to his
side, glancing down at the blood staining his fingers. He drew off the red-
soaked shirt and tossed it aside, examining the depth of the wound with an
unsettling detachment before bringing his hand up to lick away some of the
blood. Sanadhil watched, keeping his face neutral, but the gesture reminded him
uncomfortably of Arek.
Arek, his lover, fallen angel or redeemed demon depending on one's point of
view. This had to be something to do with him, thought Sanadhil, there was no
other plausible reason why a succubus would be in his library, attacking his
daughter... Arek's daughter... "Who are you?" he asked, trying to buy more
time.
The demon's red eyes narrowed and he backhanded San without warning. The half-
elf brought up a hand involuntarily to his face, stinging and, now he could
feel it, wet with demon blood. His tongue darted out, instinctively seeking to
lick away the drops that clung to his skin, but he realized his mistake in time
and pulled it back, hoping the creature hadn't noticed. "Who are you?" he asked
again instead, unwilling to be cowed.
"Someone you should be more afraid of," the demon purred, coming closer to him
again. Sanadhil could smell the blood on him, on both of them, feel the heat of
his bare skin. It made his heart pound in ways not entirely related to terror.
He took San by the jaw, scraping a claw roughly along his cheek. "I'm the one
who's going to tear you two apart."
Sanadhil tried to make sense of this. Did 'you two' refer to him and his
daughter, or to himself and Dozilva, both Arek's mates, or... "Me and Arek," he
guessed at last, meeting the creature's eyes as steadily as he was able.
"That's not his name," the demon snarled. "You. Know. Nothing. About. Him."
With each word he shook San, rattling him back and forth.
"I know enough," San gasped when he could speak again. "I know who he is now."
A bitter laugh poured out of those perfect lips. "And just who is he now? A
father, a lover, a pathetic, castrated bitch who plays pretend with his little
family? It's a lie, all of it." As he spoke, he ran his free hand along San's
arm, stroking the silk of his tunic, claws snagging on the fine threads. This
seemed to frustrate him after a moment, and he loosed Sanadhil's jaw to tear
open the fabric with a painful rending sound, tossing the scraps aside when he
was finished.
Sanadhil endured stoically the scrape of talons over his skin, the humiliation
of being stripped half-naked. He was sure that much worse was still to come. He
could try to fight back, but that would only result in more physical
punishment, and wouldn't keep the creature here long enough for Arek and
Dozilva to get back. Sanadhil knew he had to buy time, had to keep his
tormentor's interest long enough for his mates to arrive... and he knew how to
do that to a succubus.
One hand curled firmly around the back of San’s neck, the demon leaned back
slightly to take in his thin frame, the scars that decorated him, the silver
ring that pierced his left nipple. This he took his time with, toying and
twisting, laughing when San winced. “Does he like this?” he asked, sounding
mildly curious. “Does it make you hard when he runs his tongue over it?”
Sanadhil bit his lip, resisting the urge to fight back. It was just flesh, he
told himself as the demon began slowly pulling on the ring, stretching the hole
painfully. Accept the pain and move through it, he knew Dozilva would tell him
if she could. She had given it to him to claim him as her own, coming up on
thirty years ago now - the first time she had marked him, but far from the
last. He could endure it until it actually began to tear, and then he was
unable to keep from crying out. Any struggling would only make it worse,
though, so he kept still. When the ring finally ripped free it was almost a
relief, and he heard himself sob as the blood began to spill down his chest.
The demon tossed aside the ring Dozilva had given him as though it was garbage,
then ran his clawed fingers through the trail of blood and brought them to his
mouth, licking them while keeping his eyes locked on Sanadhil the entire time.
Sanadhil understood what that probably meant, the full weight of the
implications behind the exchange of fluids. Arek had been able to form bonds
with his victims and lovers, bonds that would let him find them wherever they
might go, and wrack their bodies with pain with nothing more than a thought. He
didn’t think he had consumed any of this demon’s essence yet, but he guessed it
was only a matter of time before he would be forced to do so.
He wondered momentarily if Arek had learned the skill from this monster, or
perhaps the other way around, before he was suddenly forced to his knees again
by the heavy pressure of the demon’s hands. He landed hard, no doubt bruising
himself in the process. “You only needed to ask,” he murmured grimly, looking
up at his assailant.
The succubus smiled, showing teeth just a little too pointed. “Shall I ask you
nicely then?” He took San’s jaw in one hand, squeezing it tightly at the hinges
until his mouth opened. “Should I beg you to please suck my cock?” With his
other hand, he was unfastening his trousers, revealing the item in question.
Sanadhil looked at it with a clinical eye - only a little bigger than Arek’s,
and he knew he could handle that. “It seems to me you’re the one who should be
begging,” the demon told him, scraping the talon of his thumb along San’s lip
hard enough to split it open.
“I’m not the begging type,” Sanadhil gasped, before the demon grabbed a fistful
of hair at the back of his head and forced him onto his thick cock. San’s jaw
stretched wider than it ever had before with the effort of taking it, the taste
of his own blood salty on his tongue. The head nudged up against the back of
his throat, making him gag, before it retreated slightly. He thought he might
get a chance to snatch a breath when suddenly, without warning, his mouth was
flooded with streams of hot come, so much that he choked and sputtered and
swallowed some before he could resist. The succubus pulled out of his mouth,
letting the last few bursts hit his cheek instead. San felt foolish for not
having anticipated the trick - he remembered the ruses Earric had been capable
of - and, even more than that, ashamed of himself for savouring the delicious
taste. He coughed and spat, but he knew it was too late. If the demon intended
to form a bond with him, he could already have done so. Then an even more
terrible thought occurred to him, as he wondered whether Emkathon had also been
tied to the creature. His own bond with Earric had been created with no more
than a kiss and a few drops of blood, many years ago...
His memories of that moment faded again, driven back by the insistent press of
an unfamiliar cock into his mouth once more. Unlike a human attacker, the
succubus wasn’t flagging after his climax - he would be able to keep going as
long as he felt like it, as Sanadhil knew well. The massive shaft stretched his
split lip painfully, and even though he was no longer choking on semen, it was
still difficult to breathe, as much because of the ache in his lungs as
anything else. He felt increasingly light-headed as the demon fucked his face
more vigorously, holding onto the sides of his head. His fingers brushed back
and forth against San’s ears, rubbing the delicate tips, whether intentionally
or accidentally he wasn’t sure, but the touch was maddening, juxtaposing a
lover’s gesture with his violation.
When Sanadhil could no longer stand it, he let his jaw close just a little,
teeth scraping along the underside of the demon’s erection. He tasted blood,
intoxicating and raw, and heard the creature gasp, pulling back sharply. San
looked up at him, knowing that he was bound to face further punishment for his
infraction but feeling a surge of vindictive joy nevertheless. “Too big,” he
told him, and was slapped again, more viciously this time.
“I’m sure you can handle him without trouble,” growled the demon. “You must beg
for that magnificent cock of his.”
“And you must really miss it,” San retorted. It was a wild shot, but by the
look on the creature’s face, it had hit its mark. Teeth bared in a snarl, he
jerked Sanadhil to his feet, looking him in the eyes as though searching for
some answer there.
“What does he see in you?” he spat, contemptuous.
“Something worth keeping,” said Sanadhil, smiling with bloodied lips.
The demon hauled him closer, one arm about his waist. His slender form belied
considerable strength, and he was able to move San about easily, especially now
that the half-elf was only putting up a token resistance. San’s backside
slammed up against his desk as the succubus steered him where he wanted him to
go. As he pressed his thigh between Sanadhil’s legs, the creature gave a smile
of his own. Liking this a little more than you let on, he thought directly into
San’s mind, rubbing against his half-hard cock. The telepathy felt like as much
of a violation as anything else, and San shuddered. The demon yanked off his
silk trousers, then moved more slowly, mockingly sensual, to remove his
drawers. Let’s see, shall we?
Teasingly, he wrapped his hand around Sanadhil’s dick, which stiffened further
at his touch despite its owner’s will. “Hardly seems worth it,” he murmured
against San’s cheek, before he began kissing and licking his way down his neck.
He reached his untorn nipple, sucking it into his mouth so that San had to bite
back a moan. Succubi were made to give pleasure, it was their greatest weapon,
but knowing that didn’t make it any easier to accept his body’s responses. When
he slid to the other side of his chest, tongue circling the mutilated flesh,
lapping at the blood, the pain and pleasure mingled together forced a cry from
San’s throat.
The demon lifted his head after a moment, but kept his hand on San’s cock, now
fully erect and straining at his grip. “Do you honestly imagine he loves you?”
he whispered. “Or that he’ll still be able to pretend to love you after this,
after he knows what you really are?” He stroked down his length, claws grazing
lightly against San’s most sensitive skin.
“He already knows what I really am.” Maybe thirty years ago that hadn’t been
true, maybe even twenty, but Sanadhil was confident in saying it now. “He
knows, and he still loves me.”
The succubus laughed, low in his throat. “But you know so little about him, the
murderer you let into your bed, the monster who birthed your children... Your
life with him has been less than an instant compared to mine.” He slid closer
to suck San’s lower lip into his mouth, and along with the kiss came a strange
dizziness, an ache at the back of his head that gradually faded, leaving him
drained and a little stunned before he realized what had just happened. The
demon drew back, licking his lips and smiling like a cat with a mouse. “How
much time was that, I wonder? A year or two? It was delectable.”
Sanadhil wasn’t sure how much he had lost, but the sensation of having his
hard-earned power sucked away was one he had no desire to repeat.
Disconcertingly, though, his cock felt harder than ever. He knew he had to
distract the demon further if he was to avoid more such losses.
“It’s amazing that you could know him so long and still not understand him,” he
said through swollen lips. “You must be so jealous.” The word seemed to linger
for a moment in the air between them, and then sudden, terrible pain racked
Sanadhil’s body. He would have fallen to the ground, but the creature had him
firmly pinned against the desk, so all he could do was scream and thrash
against his tormentor. With what rational thought he could still muster, he
told himself that he had suffered this before, and endured, but still it felt
like it would go on forever. When the agony finally ebbed away, he slumped
against the demon’s shoulder, leaning there breathless, like an exhausted
lover.
The monster stroked his sweat-soaked hair, almost tender for a moment. “I can
do that to you whenever I want. I could keep doing it until it drove you mad.
Your beloved used to love to do that to his pets when he tired of them.” His
voice was low, hissing against San’s ear. “Or I could just kill you, but that’s
over so quickly. Much less satisfying.”
San whispered something under his breath. The demon jerked his head back by the
hair, bending his neck painfully. “What did you say?”
“You said ‘used to,’” he murmured, and the bloody smile was triumphant.
With a snarl, the succubus forced him back onto the desk, opening his legs with
a rough push. Sanadhil closed his eyes as the head of the creature’s cock,
still slick with spit and semen, grazed lightly against the skin behind his
balls, sliding down to rest against his asshole. The position, the sensations,
were an unsettling reminder of a ritual long ago, when he’d willingly given
himself to Earric to save him from suffering. If he let himself think about it,
he could imagine the cold stone altar beneath his back, the sounds of Phedre
and Bessa (both long dead now)... but that really was the path to madness. He
forced himself back into the present, opening his eyes to watch his rapist’s
face with as much clinical detachment as he could manage. This was good, he
told himself, it would keep the creature here longer, and maybe he could hold
out until Arek and Dozilva got back, maybe the demon wouldn’t wring that final
surrender out of him...
Even though Sanadhil was well-accustomed to Arek’s girth, the first push into
him still felt incomprehensible, as though he was being stretched open past all
previous limits. He moaned, unable to keep silent. As the enormous cock filled
him, delving further inside his body, San’s guts cramped and clenched for a few
minutes before submitting to their violation. After what felt like an eternity,
he finally felt the demon’s balls resting against his ass and knew that was all
of it, he was as deep as he could get. Then his mind began to fill unbidden
with ways the creature could get deeper into him after all - hands, tools,
shapeshifting - and he shuddered. The demon laughed, perhaps taking it for a
sign of lust, perhaps just enjoying the feeling of his fear.
The demon bent over him, wings spread, and Sanadhil was for a moment able to
feel the rape from both sides, feel himself being split open as well as the
hot, quivering tension around a cock that wasn’t his own. He could taste anger
and vindictive jealousy and a hint of sadness before he summoned his remaining
energy to try and block out the attunement, a twisted mockery of the real
thing.
Drawing up again with something in his hand, the succubus grinned. San’s eyes
went to the item, and he recognized it with a chill as one of Emkathon’s long
wing-feathers, a rusty orange banded with blue-green. Tracing a path down
Sanadhil’s chest with the feather, he gave a little chuckle. “When I’ve
finished with you, I’ll find her, and I’ll do exactly this to your pretty
little girl,” he told him, thrusting into him for emphasis. “She’s not as
stubborn as you, she’ll break faster, but it will still be delicious when she
does. And maybe I’ll make the boy watch - he likes watching, doesn’t he. And
then which one next, hm? The quiet little one with white hair - how old is she,
eight, nine? She’ll stretch and tear like fresh leather.”
Sanadhil tried not to listen to the threats, telling himself they were empty
even though he knew there was a chance they weren’t. The steady pounding into
his ass was a distraction, so he let himself focus on that instead.
Unfortunately, all that did was make his cock ache more desperately to be
touched. The pressure of holding himself back, keeping himself from showing any
signs of pleasure, was almost becoming a pleasure in itself. He began to wonder
if letting go might be more sensible, if he would be able to think more clearly
and act more quickly if an opportunity presented itself, with that pressure
relieved.
Tentatively, he ran a hand down the demon’s side, finding the stab wound that
was still open and oozing. Pressing it made the creature bare his fangs, but
also coated San’s palm with the hot, wet blood. He brought it up to his mouth
to lick, uncaring now whether the demon’s eyes were on him, tasting the honeyed
substance he had so delighted in when Earric’s wounds were still unhealed, now
a rare and precious gift. It wasn’t precisely the same, but close enough. He
curled the blood-drenched hand around his cock and began to stroke himself.
“You like that, don’t you,” said the demon, not really asking, perfectly able
to see, to feel, how Sanadhil was reacting. “Think about this,” he added as he
hammered harder into San, drawing a pathetic little whine from his throat.
“Everything he does to you that makes you moan and scream and beg, every secret
way he touches you, I taught him first. I made him.”
“Maybe you made him,” gasped San, jerking himself harder, “but I made him
regret.” The demon’s shocked expression, as though he’d been slapped, was what
finally triggered San’s shuddering release, more than the frantic, desperate
strokes or the massive cock skewering his ass. He came across his fingers,
spattering his stomach, but wasn’t allowed any time to catch his breath or try
to recover before the demon had grabbed him by the throat and pulled him up for
another draining kiss. Unable to breathe, let alone try to fight back, Sanadhil
barely struggled against the embrace. It felt more distant this time, as though
it was happening to someone else and he was just watching, but he knew that now
there would be no holding back - he had angered the creature enough that the
games would stop and the genuine torture would begin. He knew it was probably
too much to hope for that he would be choked into unconsciousness before that
happened.
When he was finally released he slumped back onto the desk, panting. The demon
pulled roughly out of him, leaving him feeling gutted and sore, but it was only
a few moments before he was being filled again, this time by fingers that slid
into him easily, as stretched out as he was, sharp talons scraping along his
inner walls, drawing blood. Sanadhil tried to scream, but all that came out of
his shattered body was a raspy sob. The creature’s claws gouged deep into him
as they drew back agonizingly slowly, and San could feel blood leaking from his
still-gaping hole. As soon as he was emptied, the mental pain began again,
giving him no relief between punishments. It relented only when the demon
crawled atop him and grabbed him around the throat again with bloody claws,
making to pull his tongue out by the root...
“Let him go, Ephrimel.” Arek’s voice was harsh and terrible and the most
beautiful thing San had ever heard. At the sound, the demon whipped around,
dropping smoothly into a crouch as though preparing to fight, or flee. It was
unacceptable that he escape - Sanadhil knew there would be no way of keeping
Emkathon safe from him if he was allowed to get away now. He drew himself up,
struggling to control shaking hands and focus his energy, knowing he would only
get the chance to cast one final spell while the creature was distracted.
“I warmed him up for you,” purred the succubus. “When you get tired of playing
house, I’ll...” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as Dozilva stepped out
from behind Arek’s outstretched wings and shot him with a bolt of lightning
that knocked him onto his back.
“You don’t get to talk,” she informed the demon, her voice full of carefully
controlled rage.
Sanadhil knew an opportunity when he saw one, and attempted the spell he’d been
holding in reserve until now. It took every ounce of strength he possessed, but
he managed to pull together the magical energy to cast hold monster. There was
every chance it might not work, and if it did it would only be for a short
while, but he had to hope it would be enough. When he saw the demon, who had
been trying to scramble to his feet, freeze, he felt a surge of elation that
momentarily surpassed his pain. “Now, do it now!”
Arek knelt beside the motionless demon - Ephrimel - and San was both surprised
and unsurprised to see a knife in his hand. He’s going to kill you, he thought
to the demon, and he’s going to hate himself for it, but he’ll do it for me.
For our family. The creature’s red eyes flicked to him once, and then away.
Sanadhil forced himself to watch as Arek opened the monster’s throat, unwilling
to make him bear that burden alone. Arek stayed holding Ephrimel’s head,
stroking his pale hair, until long after the blood stopped pulsing.
Dozilva, meanwhile, hurried to Sanadhil’s side, gathering him into her arms as
carefully as she could. “The children are safe,” she told him, “they were very
brave. It was all we could do to keep Dez from coming back with us, but we told
him the little ones needed his protection.”
San shuddered, relieved that at least none of his children had to see him like
this. He struggled to stand, but his legs were too weak, and he was still
bleeding and dizzy, and anyway, Dozilva seemed to think he shouldn’t really be
trying right now. “Arek,” she said urgently, “he needs healing.”
Arek, jolted from his mourning, let the demon’s head slide gently to the floor
before standing and coming over to Sanadhil’s side. “I’m so sorry,” he told
him, laying a hand on his chest, criss-crossed with deep scratches and stained
with blood and come, to begin healing him. “This was my fault, it wouldn’t have
happened if I had...”
“I forgive you,” Sanadhil whispered, reaching out to grasp Arek’s wrist,
cutting off his attempts to blame himself. Arek’s face twisted as if he was
trying to hold back tears, but he nodded and finished the healing spell. The
relief as his wounds closed was so strong that San felt like crying himself,
but he held it together for his loves, who were both plainly distraught. When
he was finally able to pull himself up, he gathered both of them into his arms,
clinging tightly to them.
“It’ll be all right,” he reassured them. Arek was trembling, maybe crying now
as he buried his face in San’s shoulder, while Dozilva looked pale and shaken.
“We did what we always do - we survived.”
End Notes
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