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arrianna21 · 1 year

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~To Hell and Back~ Chapter X (M)

Never make a deal with the devil. Easier said than done. Enter the world of demons where things are not what they seem. Friend or foe, nobody knows. When mysterious and strange incidents come out of the darkness, will you be able to escape the depths of Hell alive and at what price?

Rated M for Mature: This series will contain gore, mutilation, strong language, depictions of death, intense violence, sexual content, themes of horror, mention of miscarriage, medical procedures, minor character death

Please ensure you’re in a good headspace or avoid reading if the tags above make you uncomfortable. Specific tags that are italicized occur within the chapter. Viewer discretion is advised.

demon!v x fem!reader

Word Count: 10,424

I | | II | | III | | IV | | V | | VI | | VII | | VIII | | IX | | X | |

As you sit in the lone chair, you watch Lhaine continue mopping the floor of the vacant ballroom while you can only quietly look around. It’s been about a week or so since Hallow’s Evening where you were ultimately shot. You find yourself glancing up at the balcony, at each pillar lined up near the walls, even at the dark plum curtains covering the windows. Anyplace where someone can possibly hide or stay out of sight. Despite all the people there, the assassin had a clean shot to the prince had you not interfered.

A loud clang echoes in the wide room, startling you from your pensive thoughts, and you see Lhaine setting her mop against the wall so she can pick up the set of fallen music stands. You get to your feet and don’t even take a step before she points a finger at you without bothering to look. “Don’t even think about it, I got it,” she says.

“I can at least help some with the mopping,” you insist. “This room is huge.”

She finishes resetting the row of music stands and resumes mopping. “It won’t take me much longer. Besides, you already helped me clean the restroom despite being given strict orders not to overexert yourself.”

“Yeah, but our bathrooms are small. And no one would even know, it’ll be just between the two of us.”

“Then you seriously underestimate our boss who’s probably tuning in on us now,” Lhaine scoffs.

“I’ll just use my good arm again.”

She continues dragging the mop across the floor, the marble glistening from the water. “As much as I appreciate your assistance, I don’t need to get reprimanded for when you inadvertently pull a muscle from straining your good arm.”

“Come on, you even side-eyed me when I was folding laundry. Can’t you give me one of your simpler tasks?” You pout from your spot in the chair.

“But I’m looking forward to dusting the paintings,” she mockingly pouts back.

“Please, Lhaine?” You plead in return. “Something, anything at this point.”

“Well I guess you could go feed your friend Zelda. Make sure the horses have their meal, and seriously, I was joking,” she shouts, but you’re already heading to the door. “If she bites you, I’m screwed!”

“I’ll be careful,” you reassure before rushing out the door in case she tries chasing you down.

Outside, you make your way to the stables and gather the rotten fruit and vegetables into a bucket where you carry it towards the horses. They eat them quickly, teeth chomping the dead, mushy carrots and apples.

Zelda is the last one at the end and you cautiously approach her, the zombie horse already standing and waiting for her food. You grab the soft carrot, tentatively holding it out to her. She moves slow in return, easing her head forward before biting into it. The bones of her jaw creaks as she chews. This continues while you feed her a few more. When she finishes, she takes a step back and bends her head in a downward motion.

You stare at her in return before dipping your head in a bow as well. “You’re welcome,” you murmur, surprised by the shift in her demeanor compared to the other times when she seemed more hostile.

She snorts and turns, retreating towards the pile of stiff red hay in the corner of her stall. “It seems she’s taken a liking to you,” you hear from the entrance.

You jump and turn towards the voice, ready to chunk the bucket in a poor attempt of self-defense only to find the prince standing by the wooden stable doors. He wears a silver cloak with the hood down and you catch a glimpse of his sword at his hip. “V,” you loudly say his name. “Here to visit the horses?”

He smiles as he approaches. “Actually I’m here to take Zelda out for some fresh air.”

“Oh. Is it safe for you to go out after what happened?” You quietly ask, not wanting to actually speak the words “attempted assassination”. From behind Zelda has snuck closer to you before giving you a strong nudge, her head pushing against your back and you’re flung forward as you stumble while V rushes to catch you. You latch onto his biceps to balance yourself while his hands steady you by holding onto your waist.

Your eyes meet as you stare at one another, lost in a myriad of thoughts without saying a word. He breaks the spell first as he merely shrugs, breaking out into a mischievous smirk. “Technically no, but this cloak prevents me from being recognized or identified. And no one knows I’m going out except for you. Also, did I not give strict orders for you to not do any difficult tasks?” He asks, raising a brow at you.

“Feeding the horses doesn’t require a lot of exertion. Besides, Lhaine has made sure I barely do anything at all even though I’m feeling much better,” you reassure. With Kala’s exercises and plenty of forced rest, your shoulder doesn’t constantly ache or throb as much anymore.

“Good, now let’s not push yourself too hard, yes?”

Knowing both him and Lhaine only mean well for you, you can’t quite keep from rolling your eyes in return. “Of course, Your Highness,” you answer. There’s a brief pause and you suddenly remember that you’re still in his embrace. “I hope you enjoy your outing.”

“Thank you, little dove.” His smile widens, genuine happiness seeping into the playful expression. When you go to step back, his arms slowly slide away until they fall to his sides, his smile faltering briefly but doesn’t disappear. He eyes you for another moment, hidden emotions you can’t quite identify flickering from within before he turns his attention to Zelda as he gets her saddle ready. “Behave,” V tells you from atop her back as they pass by while she walks towards the stable entrance.

“Yes, sir,” you joke, bending to do a small curtsy for him in return which causes him to let out a chuckle.

He pulls the hood up until it covers his head before urging Zelda into a trot as they disappear from sight.

~*~

The next morning as you head towards the kitchen for breakfast, you’re surprised to find energy buzzing throughout the castle. The other servants move quickly through the halls, rushing to their tasks as they whisper to each other. Even as you pass the guards stationed at their posts, you hear them mutter to one another and you catch a few words here and there about some politician.

Inside the kitchen, you don’t see Chef anywhere but there’s pots and pans cooking on the stove. Instead you find the Faegel huddled together eating their breakfast while they speak quietly amongst themselves. “And he was here for lunch not too long ago. My friend who lives in that realm wonders if it’s a possible coup,” Rae tells them, her eyes wide.

Mel rolls her eyes in annoyance. “Imbecile. If it were a coup, said leaders would’ve clearly taken credit for his death. No one has claimed any whatsoever. This is something else.”

“Whatever it is, it’s put the rest of the Senate on edge,” Bren responds.

“Do you think it’s another assassination like the one—ow!” As Rae speaks she’s cut off by Mel harshly pinching her arm as she jerks her head toward you.

All three immediately grow quiet, cleaning up their food before going to leave the room. “Too bad you weren’t there human,” Mel says as they pass by, “maybe you could’ve rescued him as well,” she notes with an acidic smirk. Neither Bren nor Rae say a word, instead quietly exiting as they walk beside Mel.

With a shake of your head, you fetch your own breakfast and begin eating as Lhaine comes in to join you. “So is it true a senator is dead?” You ask while she rifles for a few slices of bread.

Taking a bite, she sits down on the stool beside you. “Damn, you already heard too?” She asks around the food in her mouth as she chews. “Then it must true. I thought it was just a rumor or people exaggerating.”

“Apparently not. And nobody seems to know who could’ve done it.”

“Yeah, because it shouldn’t be possible,” she snorts.

Her statement confuses you as your brows draw together. “What do you mean? Wait,” you pause, “he had already ascended, hadn’t he?”

She nods. “Mmhmm. Which means someone has done the impossible,” she confirms.

Her words click in your head as you understand the true severity of the situation. “So, surely they’ll look into who did this and find them before they kill someone else.” Surely it can’t be a coincidence that someone tried to murder the prince right before a senator who was essentially immortal is now dead. Unless this is merely the common joys of demonic politics in Hell, rules be damned.

Lhaine shrugs as she drinks her water. “Hopefully. We don’t exactly have law enforcement down here. Murder is pretty much fair game, but if an ascended truly is dead then the playing field’s gotten a bit more leveled. No doubt the rest of the senators are losing their shit right now.” She snorts into her cup. “Wouldn’t mind seeing that,” you hear her mutter.

A thought occurs to you. “Isn’t RM also a part of the senate?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “but he’s exceptionally intelligent and more than capable of holding his own. Even if he wasn’t, he’s got Jeon who can easily annihilate enemies no problem.”

Chef returns at that moment and points to you. “Take the tea to Mr. Min and the other guests. They’re up in the library,” she orders, removing a kettle from the stove while she opens a cabinet which has a tea set inside. “Use this.”

You gently take out the porcelain tea set, pouring the crimson tea from the kettle and into the tea pot. The pretty set is white and decorated with little purple flowers that are painted on the outside. “I got it,” you quickly reassure Lhaine who eyes you dubiously. “Most of the weight is on my good arm.” While it’s both awkward and terrifying having to balance such delicate items using mostly one arm, you use the other to hold it in place, ensuring it won’t abruptly tip over.

“See you,” Lhaine calls after you, obvious skepticism and disapproval evident in her face as she watches you leave.

Carrying the tea set, you’re careful to keep the tray steady with your one arm while you open the door to the library. As you enter you find most of V’s friends inside. While Jay and Suga occupy one of the couches, Jin sits in one of the chairs by the table, an ornate mirror held in his hand. He admires his reflection, fixing a strand of black hair while the duo murmur softly to each other. Off to the side at another chair sits Min, seemingly staring off into space, either concentrating on his visions or listening into their conversation.

Min turns his head, facing your direction as you approach. “Thank you, Ms. Y/N,” he says as you set the porcelain tray down.

“You’re welcome,” you reply, setting each cup onto a saucer before reaching for the teapot as you slowly pour the steaming liquid. Jay, Suga, and Min each take their own while Jin leaves his, attention still focused on inspecting his face.

Arranging the remaining cups, you hesitate, wondering if you should prepare the tea for the others but Min addresses your unspoken question. “You can leave the rest and we’ll pour it once they arrive. That way it’ll be fresh,” he answers with a smile.

“Of course. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, we’re fine at the moment. How’s your shoulder?” He inquires.

“Better, thank you,” you tell him. There’s still soreness in your muscles when you move a certain way but otherwise it’s slowly improving.

“This is a tragedy,” Jin suddenly moans, everyone’s attention turning towards his abrupt exclamation.

“I wouldn’t call it a tragedy. Unfortunate, sure, but Cellhád was always trying to pass distasteful rules that would upset the balance,” Suga says.

Jin rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t talking about him,” he scoffs with a shake of his head. “I’m talking about the fact that I have a scar.” He points to his upper cheekbone where you can just barely see a crack in his skin, as though it’s about to break off.

Min’s forehead creases at that. “Strange. You’ve just recently shattered so you shouldn’t be losing pieces so soon.”

“Were you playing a little too rough on Hallow’s Evening, old man?” Suga chuckles, earning a glare from Jin in return.

“Tch, ridiculous,” is all he mutters.

“Maybe it’s because you’re still missing a piece of yourself,” Jay wonders, indicating to the fourth finger still absent from his hand. “It’s not like you to lose yourself, literally.”

“No, it’s not that. I’ve went a couple of weeks without a finger before I eventually found it. I just hope it’s nothing to do with my curse progressing or growing stronger,” Jin sighs, fingertips grazing along his skin just below the crack.

“Could there be a medicine or potion that can fix it?” You find yourself asking, drawing their attention to you and you flinch in return. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Min is the one that answers you. “No need to apologize, it’s an honest question. I’m sure you’re thinking of the healing salve that can fix minor cuts and scratches, yes?”

“Yeah, I think so. Miss had given me some the day I came here,” you say, remembering when you hit your head on Loom’s cart all those weeks ago in the Crooked Forest. It feels like a lifetime ago.

“Unfortunately, it wouldn’t do Jin any good because he’s not technically injured. It’s just a part of his curse so he can’t be healed,” Min explains.

“That’s an interesting thought though if we could just glue him back together,” Jay muses, thumb rubbing along his chin. He’s met with a scowl from Jin who seethes in his seat. “Sorry, sorry,” he’s quick to apologize, raising his hands in surrender. “I was just joking, honest.”

“You know this might be a sign that you’ll have to be proactive again in trying to break your curse, right?” Suga pipes in from beside Jay, his gaze fixated on the white butterfly with orange tipped wings that’s perched on the back of his hand.

The anger dissipates from Jin leaving only resignation in its wake as he sighs. “Yes, I was afraid of that.” He shakes his head as though ridding himself of his internal thoughts. “I’ll manage in the meantime. Besides we have more pressing matters at the moment.”

You take that as your queue to leave, realizing all too late that you’ve just been standing there listening in on their conversation. Bowing, you silently excuse yourself and make your way to the library entrance, hearing the discussion shift to the dead senator.

Only the topic switches briefly as Jay asks, “Is that why V’s been studying portals and whatnot?” His voice low, but enough for you to still hear even as you approach the door.

“Will you hush?” Min responds with a quiet snort.

It’s not hard to assume that they’re referring to you. Is that why V has been visiting the library more often?

“Hello, Ms. Y/N,” you hear and turn to find RM standing behind you at the entrance. Jeon stands just behind him, holding the door open for him. “It’s good to see you.”

“Nice to see you both too, sir,” you answer in return.

“How’s recovery been?”

“Going well, thank you. Kala has recommended some great exercises that are really helpful,” you say.

He nods with a smile, revealing two dimples on either cheek and a pair of fangs that peek out. “Yes, she’s a wonderful lady,” he agrees. “Very adept in her studies and work. Please give my regards next time you see her.” Stepping around you, he makes his way to the others with Jeon right at his heels and you softly call the younger boy’s name.

The vampire immediately freezes, gaze fixated straight ahead before he turns his head, crimson eyes meeting your own. He doesn’t say a word, merely staring at you in return.

“I just wanted to say thank you for the drawings. They’ve been really helpful,” you tell him.

Jeon gives a tentative nod, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “You’re welcome,” he quietly murmurs, voice low but also soft, much to your surprise. “Glad you’re feeling better.” And then he quickly walks away, following after RM who’s already seated in one of the lounge chairs, taking his position standing at the bookshelf just behind the group.

~*~

Rough stone grazes against your skin as you slowly wake. Taking in your surroundings, you stare out into the pitch black space, and left to feel along the ground until you can stand upright. You hold your palm against the nearest wall of what feels like a cave, using it as a guide to lead you toward what you’re hoping is an exit. As you peer out into the darkness, you catch a glimpse of a faint blue light. It glows in the distance, so you focus on that while continuing to feel along the coarse granite with your hand.

Once you’re close enough, you find the light to be the glow of a lantern hanging from the ceiling. The cobalt flame flickers within the glass that houses it and when peering further ahead, there’s another one down the corridor. You continue towards the next one, losing your sight in the darkness of the cave in between each lantern. As you approach, there’s movement from the shadows and the sound of scrabbling echoes, causing you to flinch.

Moving slowly, you make out the outline of a figure that’s huddled just beyond the reach of the fire’s light. You swallow, voice unable to emerge from your throat besides a thin, whispery, “Hello?” Your muscles tense in preparation, body ready for flight or fight depending on how the person reacts.

But they don’t suddenly attack or scream, or even flinch in response either. Instead, they lift their head before turning to face in your direction. Familiar eyes, glazed with exhaustion, peek out from beneath their hair.

“Faith?”

The quiet call of her name causes your sister to squint as she stares up at you. Recognition is slow to seep in before she answers with your name, the word slow and unsure.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you confirm, resisting the urge to drop down on your knees beside her and hug her tightly. You haven’t seen or spoke to her since the night you nearly died, and while she seemed more coherent then, you’re not sure about the current state she’s in now. It could all be a ploy for her to get you close so she can attack you like all the other times.

Her facial expression lingers between confusion and realization. “You’re alive?”

“I am.”

“You’re alive,” she repeats, before understanding finally dawns. “You’re alive!” She pushes herself to her feet, standing upright so she can look at you directly. “Are you okay?” Her hands grasp your face, bony fingers pressing against your skin and you involuntarily flinch, expecting sharp nails to suddenly pierce through flesh.

“I’m fine,” you tell her while she inspects your face.

“Strange, I didn’t even recognize you. You look different,” she notes, gently pushing you backwards until you’re both standing beneath the glow of the lantern. With the light shining down, it illuminates your figures, including the prominent black in your veins that matches her own. “That’s right, they poisoned you too.”

Now you’re confused as you give her a quizzical look. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

She stares deep into your eyes, seeming to be searching for something. “The darkness inside you. It’s slowly draining you, feasting on your soul, and you won’t be able to fight it off for long.”

Darkness is feasting on your soul? Since when? How coherent is your sister actually? Rather than outright question her and risk possibly angering her, you opt to simply go along with it. “Yeah, you said that once right before trying to kill me,” you note.

A wave of concern sweeps across her features and she pauses, biting at her lip. “I did? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Things have been fuzzy lately.” She lets out an unsteady breath, her hands shaking against you.

Carefully, you reach up and grab onto her shoulders, internally shuddering at the feel of bone jutting through her skin. “It’s okay, you’re not yourself right now. But everything’ll be fine soon. I’m going to find you a cure so you won’t be sick anymore,” you’re quick to reassure her while she anxiously glances around the space before refocusing on you.

“Wait, how are you going to do that? You can’t help both me and yourself.”

“Why not?”

Your sister winces before shaking her head. “Because they won’t let you. Once they’ve latched on, they won’t let go, not that easily. If you can get rid of the poison from yourself first, then you’ll be able to help me. But I’m glad my memory was useful,” she notes, a relieved smile forming on her lips.

“What memory?”

She blinks. “The one where we played hide and seek outside, silly,” she chuckles.

It takes you a minute as you wrack your brain before remembering the dream of you both playing in the forest as kids until the nightmare transformed it into a terrifying, haunted place. “That was you showing me that? But why? We were just playing around to pass the time.”

“Because that’s where it all began. Don’t you remember what happened in the woods?” She stares at you, worry filling her eyes. “Wait, where are you going?”

You blink and suddenly find yourself further away from her, all the way at another lantern. Glancing around you see you’re at a crossroads with multiple pathways. Each one has a blue lantern except for the one to your left. Instead it’s actually a soft purple.

“I don’t know how but I think I found a way out,” you tell her just as she catches up. You point to the light which causes her brows to furrow together. “Have you seen this before?”

“No, I haven’t. Weird.”

Taking her hand you begin heading down the tunnel, straight towards the odd flame. As you approach, you look further down the dark tunnel for the next lantern. There’s yet another one where the fire is glowing even brighter. You make your way towards it and see it’s now become a burning red.

“Ever seen a red lantern before?” You ask, staring up at it.

“What are you talking about?” She asks, looking at the lantern as well. “That’s blue.”

“Pretty sure I know my colors, sis,” you jokingly remark, voice light as you try to quell the uneasiness. “Okay, what about that one?” You point to the next one further down which is red as well.

“That’s blue too.”

“Why am I seeing red then?” You wonder, continuing towards the flame.

“I don’t know, but maybe we should head back—seriously?” You hear her sigh from behind as you continue heading for the strange lantern. “We don’t even know where we are.”

As you stand below the hanging light, you feel the texture of the floor change and you glance down to feel smooth purple carpet beneath your feet. Looking back up, you stare off into the distance, searching for the next light. Except it’s not a lantern nor is it attached to the ceiling but rather to the sides of the wall. And there’s multiple lamps all in a row emitting a familiar soft red glow.

Since when did the castle have a passageway leading to a dark cave, specifically in the northeast wing?

“We’re back in the castle,” you breathe, glancing around the space behind the thrones.

“What are you talking about? This isn’t a castle,” your sister says. You turn and see her giving you a concerned look.

“I know this place, it’s where I’ve been staying. Come on, I can take you back to my room,” you insist, but she stops you with a shake of her head.

“Y/N, seriously, a castle with red lights? It may be an improvement from this gloomy cave but there’s nothing here,” she answers.

She means it too, her eyes gazing at you with sympathy and it makes your stomach twist into knots. “You can’t see any of it? Not the trio of thrones or winding staircases on either side of us. Not even the red lights. Nothing?” The last word is a helpless plea, urging her the ability to see what you mean. Instead, she tells you something but no sound comes out. “What?”

“Y/N,” you hear the word slowly register within the quiet space as she gingerly grasps onto your wrist. “Are you alright, Ms. Y/N?”

The formal address of your name has you suddenly drawing a sharp breath, dizziness causing your head to spin as you rapidly blink in the dimly lit area. When you look towards your sister, she’s gone. Instead you find Hiss floating in the place where she once stood. Looking down, you see the black tendrils of her hair looped around your arm.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” you mumble, mind still hazy as you shake off the remnants of sleep.

Hiss hovers before you, red eyes staring with an intensity that sends a shiver up your neck. “Where were you headed?” She asks, voice bright and airy, yet there’s a hint of an accusatory tone underneath the cheerfulness.

“I don’t actually know.” You keep searching the area for a glimpse of your sister or even a glowing blue lantern. But there’s none of that, just the stairwell and the rest of the rooms.

“Do you always go wandering the castle this late at night?”

“No, not really. I have trouble sleeping sometimes,” you say, shifting uncomfortably when you feel the tendrils of her hair just barely tighten their hold on your wrist.

Hiss nods in understanding, the dark strands tethered to you moving along with her. “Hmm. I haven’t seen you up until now. Where do usually go?”

“Normally I just go to the kitchen for a drink and then back to bed,” you helplessly shrug, body stiffening as the seconds pass.

“And you don’t go anywhere else?”

You wordlessly shake your head in response.

She keeps staring back at you and the fact that she has no pupils, just full red eyes, builds tension that seems to fill the space. “You know things were normal around here, boring almost, until you suddenly showed up. Why is that?” Though she’s expecting an honest answer, there’s that accusatory undertone, one that’s laced with bitterness.

“You’re not the first to say something along those lines,” you answer humorlessly, remembering how Kala had mentioned something similar after you had been shot. Except she wasn’t distrustful of you nor had she blamed you for these series of strange and unfortunate events.

“Maybe your presence disrupted the balance. Certainly the natural order of things,” she notes harshly.

Her brewing anger has you wincing, shrinking beneath her searing gaze. “I’m sorry about Thia.” It’s the only thing you can think to say.

“Yeah, me too.” Even if she’s resentful, her words are filled with a resigned defeat as though she’s aged greatly and is left permanently exhausted.

“Hiss? What’re you doing?” Another voice asks as Cara floats forward as she comes around from the front of the thrones. “Oh, Y/N, I didn’t see you there,” she says upon taking notice of you. “Couldn’t sleep again?”

“Again? She does this often?” Hiss questions, her eyes boring incredulously at her sister who nods in confirmation.

“Yes, sometimes we sit and talk in the kitchen.”

“And you didn’t think this was crucial information to share with the King during that damned interrogation?” Hiss’s voice rising as her grip tightens even more around your wrist, causing you to grimace when your bones squeeze from the pressure.

“No, because she’s not the assassin and her nightly walks have nothing to do with what happened. Now let her go, Hiss. You’re hurting her,” she calmly suggests though Cara’s ruby eyes harden in contrast.

“So what? A little discomfort is nothing compared to what Thia felt that day,” Hiss spits.

Even if it’s not intended, her words do the expected damage as Cara visibly flinches, her face tormented by the painful reminder of the fresh wounds that have only just begun healing. “Hiss, that was cruel and completely uncalled for!” Cara shouts in return, aghast at her strong words and attitude.

“What is the meaning of this commotion?” Bell harshly whispers, her head appearing from the second floor as she descends down to where you all are. “Everyone is asleep and you’re having a spat in the middle of the main hall?”

Hiss is the first to respond. “I found her wandering the halls,” she states, tilting her head in your direction.

Bell hardly glances your way. “Yes, she works and lives here. Unless she was going somewhere off limits what does it matter? Otherwise, what of it?”

“Is this just common knowledge I just wasn’t aware of? Thia literally described a strange person the night of Hallow’s Evening and neither of you thought to mention it during the interrogation that she constantly wanders the halls quite often?”

“Because it had nothing to do with what happened during the ball,” Bell similarly repeats Cara’s earlier words. “And did you fail to recall that she was shot by the said assassin?”

“Which could’ve been part of the plan for all we know. She could be in league with them.”

“Oh, that’s ridiculous,” Cara suddenly interjects. “She wouldn’t do that. Besides she’s my friend so quit accusing her such things.”

“As if that matters! Just because she’s nice and all friendly to you doesn’t automatically make her trustworthy,” her sister retorts. “Did you know she also apparently sleepwalks?”

Cara pauses for a moment before she responds with, “She has recurring nightmares, you disembodied dimwit, so no, I’m not surprised.”

“Enough.” While not overly loud, Bell’s assertion is domineering enough to halt the strew of arguments being unleashed. “This bickering is nothing but childish and pointless.” She addresses Hiss first. “Nothing could’ve been done to save Thia that day. You know this even if you won’t accept it. Her fate was sealed the moment the King reached his decision.” She regards her sister’s hair which is still coiled tightly around your wrist to the point you’ve lost feeling in your fingers before she uses her own hair to free you from the strands.

“Cara, take Y/N back to her room,” Bell says to her though her gaze remains on Hiss until she turns to you. “And if you could please remain in your room for the rest of the night until morning call it would be much appreciated.”

“Of course. I’m sorry for the trouble I caused,” you answer, feeling guilty of being the cause of the tension between the sisters.

“No need to apologize, Y/N. Have a good rest of the night.”

When you stop at your door, you rest your hand on the handle but don’t open it. “Are you really not surprised by my sleepwalking?” You ask Cara who floats beside you. “I don’t remember doing it ever in my life until now.”

She gently smiles at you, warmth burning within the crimson of her eyes. “Your nightmares have slowly but surely become worse, so I assume that that’s the reason. Even if it somehow isn’t, I don’t believe you’re deceitful or involved in any malicious things.” A weight of sadness causes her smile to slightly wane. “Hiss is just taking Thia’s death especially hard. We’re all close, but those two were inseparable just like Bell and I are. She’ll be okay, so don’t worry,” she reassures you.

All you can do is nod, hoping that she’s right. “Thank you, Cara. You’re a good friend.”

Her smile lifts, revealing teeth as she beams. “I’m glad to hear it, that really means a lot.”

You both wave before you head inside, immediately heading to sit down on your bed. For a few minutes you simply stare down at the carpet beneath your feet, trying to remember the dream you were having while sleepwalking. Something pertaining to your sister but the details are foggy and incoherent.

Huffing in frustration, you’re about to lay down only to stop short upon noticing the pile of dust beside your nightstand. Bending down, you pick up the small navy pouch that’s next to it, recognizing it as the sleeping powder the Queen gave to you. You must’ve somehow knocked it over while you were sleepwalking you think as you dump the thin granules into the bin. As you lie down and burrow beneath the covers, you internally sigh in relief when sleep returns without issue.

When you wake up later on, you feel a twinge in your lower abdomen as you get out of bed. You soon find out the cause of discomfort once you use the restroom and see blood on the toilet paper. Oh joy. You feel a bit miffed that Mother Nature can visit you even down in Hell. Apparently your body has become acclimated enough to the environment, despite the constant stress.

Maybe this is why you suddenly sleepwalked and thought you were with your sister. The shift inside you could be causing strange dreams. One could only hope the answer is as simple as that. After putting some folded toilet paper into your underwear, you finish getting ready before heading downstairs.

~*~

In the kitchen, you’re peacefully finishing the rest of your lunch with only Chef for company since Lhaine left to go finish her tasks. That is, until Bren enters the room along with Mel, the latter giving you a disgusted look while the former doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. Not that you’re complaining. As they pass by, you notice Bren has a black ribbon wrapped around her neck, entwined into a little bow at the back, just below her tied up hair. You’re not sure about the color but perhaps because it’s worn higher up it represents a greater status compared to the purple one given to you by the prince for your wrist. Unless this is more of a fashion choice instead.

Both girls head to the counter to eat lunch with Bren gathering food onto a plate while Mel preps the drinks. The latter catches you staring at them and sneers in return. “Can we help you?” She snaps.

You shrug, returning to your own food. “Nothing. Just noticed the new fashion accessory,” you softly compliment. “It’s pretty.”

Mel snorts under her breath, immediately pursing her lips as she focuses on pouring the water. Bren, on the other hand, delivers you with a scalding expression that would probably melt you faster than lava if she possessed that capability. “Oh, you mean this ribbon that signals my disgraced status? Why, how sweet of you to say. You’re probably so satisfied beneath that disgusting saccharine façade,” she spits, cheeks burning red as her eyes tear over.

Shit, definitely screwed that up. As if she doesn’t already hate your guts. “No, that’s not what I meant. I thought it was by choice, I’m sorry,” you apologize, stumbling over the words, honestly not meaning to offend her or stir the pot. Should’ve just kept your mouth shut.

“Whatever,” Bren sighs, setting their plates on the table before taking her glass from Mel. She takes a sip, immediately frowning at the taste. “How can plain water be so bland and yet so gross?” She mumbles mostly to herself.

Mel shrugs in response. “I know. The wine back home was so much nicer. Ah, maybe one day we’ll get to have a bottle just for ourselves like we used to,” she sighs, reminiscing on past memories.

Her comment elicits another grimace from Bren who doesn’t say anything, instead pointedly keeping her gaze on her unsalted meat and bread. You take the opportunity to gather your plate, finishing off your own glass of water before quickly rinsing them in the sink. Once you’re done, you leave the kitchen so you can get back to your own tasks.

~*~

After retrieving, the sheets from the laundry room, you drag the fraying wicker basket behind you, using the hook of the clothes hanger to tug it along. While washing and changing the prince’s bedsheets isn’t too strenuous, you’re not allowed to pick up heavy things as it’ll strain your shoulder and the basket isn’t exactly designed for resting against your hips so you’ve had to improvise in that regard.

Only when you get to the main hall and approach the stairs, you have to crouch down and pull the basket handle up step by step using your own hand so as to prevent the clean sheets from accidentally spilling out. You’re about halfway there when another hand appears and grabs a hold of the other handle. As you glance up, you’re taken by surprise that you can only blankly stare.

“Hurry up, will you? Before you throw out my back,” Rae complains, scowling at your dumbfounded state.

You move then, lifting up the handle with your good arm while she does the same and follows you up the rest of the steps. Instead of leaving you at the top of the staircase she continues walking behind you all the way into the prince’s bedroom which is vacant.

The two of you set the basket on the ottoman and she already begins unloading the sheets, splaying them against the bare bed. “Thanks,” you say, unsure of how to process this situation.

“Don’t mention it,” she responds, and you take her words at face value.

While you walk to the other side of the bed, your eyes wander to V’s desk and all the books splayed across it. Though you deliberately avoid reading the open pages lest your eyes begin bleeding you happen to catch a glimpse of one book with the title Portaling. So he really has been researching possible ways to escape. The fact that he’s taking this extra time to help you, even though he clearly said he would, still warms your heart. It gives you a sense of relief that there’s someone who has more knowledge and resources, not to mention better luck than you in finding out how to escape from Hell.

Fabric hits the back of your head and you grab the pillowcase before it falls. “Quit snooping through the prince’s room and tuck the sheets in properly,” Rae snaps, her face pinched as she roughly begins working on her side.

Moving quicker, you do the same as you both work in silence, finishing the bed and then sliding the silken pillowcases onto the pillows. “While I appreciate you helping me carry the basket, why bother in the first place? I don’t get the impression I’m liked by you.”

She scoffs. “I don’t hate you if that’s what you’re implying.” Her hands deftly fold the excess pillowcases and blankets, stacking them into small piles.

“You and your friends aren’t exactly fond of me either,” you note, also folding the rest of the laundry.

“They’re not my friends,” she snaps before realizing what she said. “I mean, we’re cousins,” she amends.

You’re taken by surprised though you then remember that they’re all the same type of creature. “Either way, you’ve all hated me from the moment I got here. So I’m sorry if I’m a little apprehensive.”

Rae pauses her folding, blowing out a breath of exasperation as she looks away, avoiding eye contact. “I’m not doing this in an attempt to fulfill Bren’s debt to you, just as a favor for you since you saved her life.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” you awkwardly say. “I was just trying to help.”

“Right. And I meant it when I said don’t mention it. I doubt the prince would want me in here at all even if it’s for a task.”

“Why? I mean, isn’t this a part of our job?” You reason with her.

She hesitates, before answering, “Well, yes, but you have seniority over me. So you should be the one to take care of it first. Besides I’m sure he’d prefer asking you anyway,” she mutters that last part to herself.

“What do you mean? I haven’t been here that long at all.”

“Yeah, but remember what His Highness said after our little ‘tussle’? He demoted Bren and gave you her position as personal servant. So unless he wants something from me specifically, he’ll most likely ask you instead.”

“Is that why she hates me? Because she sees me as a threat?” Bren’s mentioned before how he’ll be hers soon. But with you getting closer to him recently, she probably assumes you’re taking over her territory.

Rae is about to answer yes, but stops short. “They’re close. Well, they had been until you came along,” she mumbles yet again.

All this animosity because they think you’re trying to sabotage a supposed romantic relationship? This is so stupid. You sigh before answering. “I don’t care about whatever connection they have or who’s interested in who, okay? I got kidnapped by demons and now just want out. That’s it. So can all of you just leave me out of this?”

She stares at you for a moment, a look of shock stuck in place until she shakes her head. “Well, Bren doesn’t exactly have a choice. She owes you for saving her from being executed.” As soon as she says it, she scrunches her nose and lets out a noise of frustration as she curses beneath her breath. “I mean, that’s traditionally how it goes, but that’s between you and her. I don’t care for you one way or another, so you stay out of my way and I’ll do the same.”

“Fine by me,” you agree, picking up the now empty basket as you get ready to leave.

“But I will say that you helping Bren be spared is, appreciated.” Rae is keeping her gaze fixated onto the ground and then she turns before quickly leaving the room.

You’re left awkwardly standing and staring at the spot she was just occupying. “You’re welcome,” you softly respond in the quiet space.

~*~

Later on, you make a stop at the bathroom near the servants’ quarters, intent on relieving yourself and changing out your “pad.” Seriously, someone needs to start stealing from above ground or inventing proper hygiene products because this is just ridiculously primeval. As you go inside, you head for an open stall only to nearly crash into the restroom door when there’s a loud bang from inside one of the closed stalls.

“Are you kidding me?” A voice shouts, the sound followed by rustling from behind just before a toilet flushes. The stall door flies open, slamming against the wall as Bren emerges, her face red and clearly upset by something. She stops short when she sees you awkwardly standing at the entrance, ready to turn around and bolt. Her lips pinch together before she eventually mutters, “Period problems.” She walks towards the sink so she can wash her hands.

Nodding quietly, you walk behind her as you head towards one of the stalls. “I get it. Sorry, that might be my hormones setting your body’s off. I don’t know if the synchronization is a good or a bad thing,” you snort.

In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of her reflection as the muscles in her face tighten, nose beginning to protrude. Her hands, which were just about to turn on the water, are gripping onto the handles as she lets out a sharp exhale. “Whatever. It is what it is,” she whispers the last part, and you barely catch it though you don’t respond, going into the stall before locking the door as you do.

~*~

Something tickles against your cheek causing your face to twitch. The irritating sensation returns and you reach a hand up to rub at your skin, finding it oddly wet. Opening your eyes, you’re greeted by surrounding darkness, a halo of dim blue light shining down on you. Another droplet hits your forehead and you realize it’s water.

Looking around the space, you hear the pool of water before you see it, the pinging droplets splashing every so often. You crawl towards it, nightgown scraping across the rough dirt and stone until you reach the end before peering down into it. There’s nothing to see except your own reflection. Until, through the depths emerges a face that floats closer. One you can immediately recognize despite the haggard look.

Her eyes meet yours and she parts her lips to which you lean closer.

“Boo,” you hear the word whispered right in your ear. Arms wrap around you as you jump, immediately turning to find your sister beside you.

“Faith,” you gasp, flinching at how cold her body is.

“Sis,” she greets in return with a grin. “Maybe this time don’t go running off, yeah?” While she may be smiling, the grip she has on you is tight and unrelenting.

“Right,” you breathe, an icy chill freezing in the pit of your stomach. “Sorry, I don’t know what happened.”

She pulls you up away from the water and starts guiding you down another path. “Come on, let’s stick together and not chase after strange lights,” she suggests. “Where’d you disappear off to last time? It’s like you completely vanished.”

How do you even begin to explain your current situation in Hell to her? “I woke up. For some reason we’ve been able to see each other but only in our dreams,” you tell her.

It’s silent except for the echoing droplets of water dripping into the miniscule puddles at your feet. Beneath the blue light that hangs above your heads as you pass by, you see confusion cloud your sister’s hazy eyes. She seems lost in distant thoughts before she finally speaks. “Our dreams? That can’t be.”

“But it’s true. That’s the only time I’ve been able to see and talk to you. You’re in the hospital in a coma.”

“Hospital.” She speaks the word slowly as though it’s foreign to her. “I barely remember but I think mom and dad took me. I haven’t been there in a while.”

“What?” Her words cause you to go painstakingly still as if your bones are stiffening in place. “That can’t be. It must be because you’re asleep. How else would we be able to see, I mean, I’d know if. . .” You trail off, the air being squeezed from your lungs, unable to draw it back in.

Faith grimaces, her arm ever so slightly tightening around your shoulders. “I haven’t seen mom or dad, or anyone remotely alive, besides you. Feels like I’ve been lost in these tunnels for ages. I don’t even know if I can leave, let alone get back.”

No, it can’t be. You shake your head. “We just haven’t found the right path. I saw the lights change color last time so surely that’s the key to getting out of here,” you tell her, turning your attention towards the next blue light in the distance.

“Sis,” she calls softly, “there’s nothing besides the blue orbs. Maybe you can somehow see something different but I can’t.”

“Then I’ll guide us by following the different colored lights. They must mean something important,” you insist, already heading off in one direction. Your sister follows close behind though she’s hesitant. As you approach the next blue orb, you see a red one hovering off in the distance. “See? There’s a red one down there. Come on,” you urge her, grabbing her arm as you tug her along.

And then you find yourself sprinting, dashing towards the red lights that float farther away. The grip you have on your sister’s arm loosens and you look back, seeing her all the way behind you. “Aren’t you coming?”

“There’s nothing down that way! It’s just a large precipice,” she yells.

You’re confused until you feel jagged stone touch your palms and you find yourself on your hands and knees, holding onto the protruding edge. Staring down below into the darkness, you barely make out the faint red glow all the way down at the bottom.

“Wait, stop!” You hear her shout from behind.

But it’s like your body has a mind of its own, and you’re just a spectator, as you suddenly lean forward before falling into the dark pit.

You hear your name called from behind but there’s nothing to stop your descent, that is, until something wraps around your waist and yanks you back.

The dark abyss falls back as it’s chased away by a soft glowing light of a chandelier you realize as you hit the ground with a grunt, suddenly finding yourself staring up at the high ceiling. Without looking, you know that you’re on the purple carpet that lines the second floor of the castle.

Not in bed like you’re supposed to be.

“Y/N?”

At the sound of your name, you turn your head and see V lying beside you, worry etched along his features. “Are you alright?” His ebony wings are out, curled up around him, bare chest heaving.

It takes you a second too late to realize you’re openly staring while he waits for your answer. You scramble to push yourself up into a sitting position and he follows suit. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out the apology before the uncomfortable silence can smother you. “I think I was caught in a dream and must’ve been sleepwalking again.”

He stares at you incredulously, seemingly at a loss for words while he rakes a hand through his hair, ruffling the blond locks. “I didn’t know your sleepwalking also meant climbing over the balcony railing and nearly falling to your death.”

“My death?”

“Yes,” he lets out a laugh of disbelief, void of any humor. “I was doing some work in the library when I thought I heard voices and movement so I came out to look then saw you balancing precariously on the railing before pulling you away. Thank goodness I happened upon you when I did.”

Why would you be climbing the railing you wonder as you glance over towards it. You vaguely remember trying to climb something in your dream but nothing’s distinct. Just a shroud of darkness that clouds the small pieces still at the forefront. Something about your sister and shadows. How are you forgetting your dreams all of a sudden?

“I’m glad you found me when you did. Thank you,” you say. “I’ve never sleepwalked before until now.”

He cocks his head slightly, chewing the inside of cheek. “Odd. I hope it’s not due to stress especially since Miss is supposed to be giving you a lighter workload. It’s not because of what happened at the celebration, is it?”

The memory of the bullet piercing your shoulder causes it to faintly twinge and you shudder slightly at the painful reminder. “No, it’s not that. I think my dreams have just been weird lately. Probably just worrying about my sister.” You trail off, thinking about what you could’ve been talking to her about until you suddenly remember her mention being lost in the tunnels. And then you recall the blue lights inside that empty cave with the never ending passageways. How can she possibly be trapped there? What state is she in back home if she thinks she’s stuck in the tunnels?

You know of one way to find out. Risking a glance at V, you see him still studying you, expression unreadable. “I know it’s late and I don’t mean to inconvenience you, but can you take me to your mother’s garden?”

“To see your sister I presume?”

You nod in return. “I’m sorry, I just want to see if she’s okay.”

His eyes soften then, a glimmer of sympathy flickering from within. “Alright.” V gets to his feet and carefully helps you up as well.

Neither of you speak a word as you cut through your room and fly down to the greenhouse rooftop with you held securely in his arms. Crouching down before the crystal clear waters, it unveils another part of your dream as you half expect your sister’s face to appear beside your own. But she doesn’t. Instead, your reflection is accompanied by V’s own, the prince resting against the rock by the pond.

As you hold your anklet above the undisturbed water, your hand trembles and you mentally steel yourself for what you might see. Will she just be an empty shell with hardly any remnants of the sister you once knew? Could she actually be that far gone? If so, then it’ll all be for nothing. You try forcing your hand to shove down and just get it over with, but your arm is locked in place.

“You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, little dove,” V speaks from beside you. “Sometimes it’s easier to not know.” There’s a truth to his sentiment one that’s probably all too familiar for him.

“I know, but if she’s, gone,” you nearly choke on the word, “then is there any point in all this searching?”

“Yes, yourself,” he answers simply. “Even if she’s moved on, we’ll still keep searching for a way to get you home. I’m sure your parents are also missing you dearly.”

“Well, they assume I’m still a part of that internship with Sir. But you’re right.” They’d be devasted at losing not one, but both of their daughters. Staying with your head buried in the sand isn’t an option, at least one that isn’t sustainable in the slightest.

Swallowing, you lower your hand and let the anklet be submerged in the pond. Just like before the water ripples until cracks form along the surface and then shatters, revealing the shimmering glow of crystals. And just like last time, you see the dark hospital room with your dad asleep in the chair nearby. Your sister remains in her bed but nothing has really changed. She still looks the same, except her bones don’t seem to be as noticeable.

“Is it possible she’s getting better on her own?” You wonder aloud, refusing to allow hope to flourish.

“Perhaps. She could be healing on her own or they might’ve found a cure for her,” V says, sitting up slightly to peer into the water. “Do you feel a little better at least?”

“A little. I just wish I knew how much time I had. How much time she has,” you sigh, pulling your anklet out which causes the water to stop glittering before returning to its original state. “Thank you for bringing me here.” You slip the accessory back around your ankle, fingers pinching the strings while you remain staring at it.

“Of course, Y/N. It’s the least I can do,” he tells you. His hand reaches out and touches the fabric lightly as you feel him lean closer beside you. “You know, this would actually be a popular accessory here.”

Perplexed, you turn to face him and are startled by how close he actually is to you, your shoulders nearly brushing each other. “Really?”

He nods, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips. “Honest. These are the most favored colors to wear here.”

“That sounds about right,” you snort. As if Hell hasn’t always been associated with red and black since probably the beginning of time.

“Aesthetics aside, from a symbolic perspective, I think your sister chose well.”

“Red for danger and black for death? Yeah, that sounds about right in my case.”

He chuckles with a shake of his head, his fingers tracing along the skin of your ankle. “Colors can have a variety of meanings as I’m sure you’re already aware. I prefer to think of them as representing courage and power which better suits you,” he says, drawing your gaze to him with an undeniable pull.

Eyes interlocked, it takes full control for you to break the connection, focusing instead on the flowers sat on a table behind him. The literal bloodred roses are in full bloom with blood droplets dripping into the soil they’re planted in. Swallowing, you finally answer. “And you study the meaning of colors too? Fascinating.”

One shoulder lifts in a half-shrug. “I know a small bit. Otherwise how else would I be able to dress fashionably?” He jokes. “Actually, mother is the one who’s well-versed in the symbolic meaning of colors. I just know the most about red and black because of how much they pertain to our world.” His hand drops away from your ankle, the warmth escaping with him. “Are you ready to go back?” When you nod, he gathers you into his arms and stands before flying up through the opening in the ceiling.

The sudden change in gravity has you quickly wrapping your arms around his neck so you can hang on even if he has a secure grip on you. While there’s not much of a breeze, the night is still rather cool, enough to slowly sap the heat from your body especially with the thin nightgown you’re currently wearing. Thankfully the heat from V’s bare skin is more than enough to at least help you retain some warmth. And yet, despite being shirtless, he’s not fazed in the slightest by the night air.

It only takes a few seconds for you to reach the balcony of your room, but rather than setting you on your feet, he instead carries you to your bed and gently sets you down on the soft mattress. His arms don’t slide out from underneath you and you don’t release the hold you from around his neck. “Hopefully now that you’ve seen her, you can rest easier tonight. And I’ll let the heads know to keep an eye out in case you begin sleepwalking again. You’ve already survived one close call and I don’t want you getting hurt,” he says.

“Thanks, I hope that’ll be the last of it too.” With the close proximity, your noses almost brush and if you only lift your head a tad then your lips would touch. The notion has you wanting to draw closer, an innate urge to feel how soft they might be.

V also peers down at you with an intensity of his own before he moves first. He leans closer, lips drawing near and your mouth tingles in anticipation of making contact only for you to feel a gentle touch against your cheek. As he presses a kiss on your skin, your face feels hot, cheeks rapidly heating as a result and you know he must be able to feel the warmth radiating on his lips.

And then he pulls away much too soon, removing his arms from around you while your own limply fall into your lap. “Rest well, little dove,” he murmurs, his umber eyes now a molten onyx, with a longing that hides just below the surface.

“Good night, V.” You somehow manage to gain control of your voice, entire body now warm with no traces of the frigid night air left remaining.

Leaving you with one more smile, you watch him walk to the door, his wings the last that you see before the door closes shut. He just kissed you on the cheek. While the two of you have been nothing but amicable, once he dropped the initial flirtatious façade and arrogance, is he implying something different now? Or was that simply a friendly gesture? You can’t tell, having no idea what the demonic customs are and you’re not sure exactly how much of the human ones apply in this instance either.

Needless to say, sleep doesn’t come for the rest of the night. Even as you try tossing and turning, you only manage dozing off every so often. The hours drag by as you fidget beneath your covers before you finally just get up and dressed for the day. You’re walking down the hall towards the kitchen as you decide to go ahead and eat breakfast since morning call will be soon enough anyway. Besides, you want to talk to Lhaine and ask her about the prince’s display of affection. Or maybe you should hold off on telling her, not sure if you’re prepared for her onslaught of questions and comments.

Before you step onto the stairs, you hear voices and see a pair of figures standing just behind the thrones. Ducking down, you press against the wall, straining to hear what they’re saying.

“Any new information?” The first person asks and you recognize him as the King, only now able to catch a glimpse of his glowing red eye.

“No, I’m afraid information has been scarce and no one seems to know the exact coordinates,” the other person says. Though you crane your neck, their back faces you and they’re obscured in the shadows yet they seem to be male.

“Even at the last location?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“You’ve already failed me once,” the King growls. “Keep searching and only report back once you’ve discovered something useful to our quest. The gemstone mustn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“Of course, Your Majesty, the family’s stability is of utmost importance and I will not rest until we succeed.” The other person gives a bow before walking off, disappearing into the dark shadows below the stairwell while the King heads off in the opposite direction. It’s only when they’re gone do you suddenly remember the strange shadowy figure you saw in the garden when you first began staying in your old room, realizing that that’s the same person.

You continuing waiting at the top of the stairs until the slightest sliver of twilight begins creeping through the windows before you finally stand up straight, knees stiff from being in that position. What in the world could the King possibly want with some gemstone?

— — —

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A/N: Meant to post this yesterday, but editing took longer and I was reworking some scenes. Hope y’all enjoy! Thoughts and comments are always welcome. I’m hoping to be back on tumblr more often soon, just been busy with life but I’m doing my best to keep the momentum going on my writing. This turtle is still chugging along, slowly but surely. Thank you again for your patience! <3

#v scenarios #taehyung scenarios #bts scenarios #bts imagines #v #bts #demon!v #My writing #To Hell and Back

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arrianna21 · 1 year

Text

~To Hell and Back~ Chapter IX (M)

Please ensure you’re in a good headspace or avoid reading if the tags above make you uncomfortable. Specific tags that are italicized occur within this chapter. Viewer discretion is advised.

demon!v x fem!reader

Word Count: 22,814

I | | II | | III | | IV | | V | | VI | | VII | | VIII | | IX | | X | |

Noises surround you from everywhere. Voices are shouting, but nothing sounds coherent. Shrieks collide with growls, which should be concerning, except you feel weightless and unbothered as you find yourself drifting. The colors above you are incredibly bright until they thankfully dim, vivid lights becoming more muted and blurred. V’s face comes into view, frantic eyes regarding you anxiously, his jaw set in hard determination. Black wings surround you and then you’re flying up, fading into the darkness.

If only the relieving abyss could last, but you’re instead ripped away and thrown into a glaring light. White clouds drift around you, the vapor curling near your ankles. Except for the billowing mists, there’s nothing at all, until a figure forms in front of you. An outline appears first, slowly becoming clearer and then you recognize her.

Your sister looks beyond fatigued, eyes blank and glazing over, bones poking through her taut skin. When she takes notice of you, there’s the briefest spark of life that flickers from her, a hint of remembrance. Although, it’s not happiness she greets you with as she quivers in realization, her body sagging lowly.

“You aren’t supposed to be here yet,” she sighs. Her shoulders sink tiredly and her knees tremble beneath her heavy weight. “Go back,” she moans.

“I can’t, I don’t know how,” you tell her. You don’t want to leave this peaceful place. The two of you are free and finally together now. How could she want you to go back to suffering? Why can’t it just be over?

Faith drags her body forward, feet shuffling the first few steps before her gait is corrected. She glares at you, forcing herself to walk determinedly until she reaches you. Grabbing your shoulders, you’re shaken roughly, nails digging painfully into your skin. “You have to go back,” she hisses in your face. “And you can’t return, not like this,” she pleads, her piercing bloodshot eyes pinning you within their hold. Tears drip down her cheeks and you go to lift your hand to wipe them away, but your arm is immobile. You will the limb to move, to do something, yet it merely hangs there.

Looking to your sister, you see her observe your arm, her thumb lightly caressing your shoulder before she sinks it into your flesh. She digs deep, her nail cutting your skin and it feels as though a metal rod is being jammed into your shoulder joint, the fire burning against muscles and tendons. Before you can so much as cry out, she shoves you away though it’s more like you’re thrown back. As you fall, you watch the clouds envelope your sister before the shadows return.

Yet consciousness still lingers as you’re left blind and disoriented, the fire being a persistent guide that tugs you along within the dark mist. When you resist the pull, willing yourself to remain in the blissful silence, it jerks you further, leaving no time to fight back until the darkness is ripped away and light encapsulates you. The aching in your arms is increasing tenfold, specifically in your left shoulder and you can’t escape the burning sensation that continues to only get worse. And with that pain comes loud voices that echo in your head.

“She’s losing a lot of blood so it’s making it hard to see exactly where the bullet is,” someone explains. “Move your hand for a moment,” they say.

The weight on your shoulder is removed, but then fingers prod at your shoulder and you flinch away. Nails put pressure around the center of your pain and you struggle, but someone holds your legs along with your right arm down.

“You’re okay, little dove,” V reassures, gently rubbing your uninjured arm.

Thankfully, the poking stops, though you can’t stop fidgeting as the throbbing continues in your arm. The slab of concrete you’re lying on digs harshly against your bones. Drops of sweat accumulate across your skin, the room smothering you in heat as you shift uncomfortably, the fabric of your dress becoming more stifling and you wish you could rip it off.

“What do you need?” You hear V ask, his voice gruff and tense.

“Keep pressure on her wound,” the voice commands. “It didn’t hit her major artery, but we need to move quickly. Can you get her dress off?”

“I got it,” Lhaine says, letting go of your legs and walking around to your torso.

V slips his arms under you, one going behind your head and the other beneath your shoulder to keep it secure. He slowly rolls you to your right side, your cheek resting against his forearm while Lhaine rushes to undo the ribbons at your back. You whimper, the throbbing in your arm being all you can focus on, though your head grows hazy while something warm trails across your chest and pools onto the slab.

“Shh, it’s alright,” V whispers to you, his hand brushing your hair back.

When she finishes, your bare back meets the concrete and the dress is yanked off with ease. Cold air encapsulates your body, a shudder running along you at the sudden change in temperature though relief is short-lived as the fire quickly consumes you with sweat continuing to form.

“How’re we doing this?” Lhaine asks, her voice more high-pitched than usual. It’s the first time you’ve heard her speak without her normal confidence.

How bad is it? Curiosity helps turn your head to the side, only to be rolled back, but not before catching a glimpse at the raw, gaping wound. V’s dark chocolate eyes meet yours while keeping his hand against the left side of your neck. “Admire your battle wounds after they’ve been dressed.” Though he feigns reassurance with his joke, the bloody sight representing your shoulder has you blanketed in fear.

“I’m going to get the bullet out, but I need to find the proper equipment,” the other voice explains. Multiple objects rustle and clang near your head and you moan, wanting to get away, but it’s impossible with the hands holding you down. “When I insert the tube, we’re going to roll her, and it should drain out. Lhaine, bring that bucket over here.”

She releases your legs, then metal scraps against stone as she drags it over before returning to hold your lower limbs. A plastic bag is ripped open and your breathing accelerates into panting, wishing you could just pass out again so you’re not conscious for what’s about to happen next.

“Be ready,” the voice warns, and the arms keeping you still tense in preparation.

When they uncover your wound it’s immediately replaced by something thick that prods at the hole in your arm. You groan, jerking away as you kick out.

“Shit,” you hear Lhaine grunt when your knee clocks the side of her head. She repositions her grasp, firmly holding your legs down yet her heated palms slide against your sweaty skin so she climbs onto the table with you.

“Keep her still,” they order, pressing hard on your shoulder and continuing to push the tube into your wound.

You scream, writhing as it slides further into your arm. A burst of adrenaline laced with fear has you yanking your legs back and Lhaine briefly loses her grip before a kick from your foot knocks her off balance. V uses his arm to keep you still while she curses and tries getting back up, using his other hand to press against your torso, his warm palm heating your bare skin. Turning your head to the side, you will your eyes to open despite the perspiration that stings them. Through your blurry vision, you see the plastic tube sticking out from your shoulder and you roughly reach out to grab it, but then you’re stopped by V’s hand latching onto your wrist with a firm grasp.

At that point, Lhaine hoists herself up and sits directly on top of your pelvis, earning a glare from the person fiddling with the tube. “I’ll get off when we roll her,” she answers before muttering to herself, wiping sweat off her forehead. “Might as well be sitting in Daemon’s armpit it’s so fucking hot in here.”

“Yes, blame the heat for why an injured human got a good hit in,” the person hums in return.

V pays neither of them any attention, keeping his focus only on you. He reassures you that you’re going to be fine, but you can’t concentrate on his words, seeing only the thing in your arm that you want out. Letting go of your wrist, he cups your jaw and urges you to look at him. “Focus on breathing,” he tells you. Trying to do as he says, it’s hard to control, your lungs desperate for oxygen and you feel on the verge of hyperventilation. “Think only about that. We’re taking care of everything else.”

The tube is pushed in some more and you wonder if they’re going to end up impaling you with it. When you grimace, V winces, watching you forlornly and glances at the one working on you. “How much longer, Kala?”

“Nearly there. . .” It slides further inside, the plastic scraping torn muscle and causing your shoulder to burn in agony. “It’s in. Roll her, but keep her weight off her arm.”

Lhaine scrambles off, moving to the side so they can turn you with V holding your neck and torso while she lifts your hips. The change in position causes your blood to drain from the tube, thick liquid pouring into the metal bucket. You gasp, your breaths becoming more panicked at how much comes out.

“You’re doing well, just keep concentrating on your breathing,” V encourages, his fingers stroking the side of your neck while his thumb caresses your cheek.

“It’s almost done,” Lhaine reassures, rubbing your legs soothingly.

Their soft assurances are enough for you to stay still, forcing your brain to remain in control of your body. A few seconds later there’s a soft splash as something falls into the bucket. “We got it,” Kala says, pressing her thumb over the end of the tube to stop the bleeding. “Roll her back, so I can finish disinfecting.”

You moan, head lolling to the side as you lie back and Kala examines your shoulder. Lhaine coughs once and then another time, rubbing her nose into her arm. Inhaling deeply, she coughs a third time and it’s followed by a low hiss. “Do you smell that?”

The others sniff the air, Kala pausing from her work. As you pull in ragged breaths, you can’t smell anything besides the acrid sting of your blood.

“Is that what I think it is?” V asks, his teeth gritting harshly.

Kala crouches to look inside the bucket before picking it up and nodding. “Yes, it is,” she sighs. A sudden gust of wind sweeps across the room, knocking a few bottles on their side at the counter. “Easy, Your Highness.”

V’s wings are swept wide like black curtains covering the macabre scene of your operation. “What if there’s still some more in her?”

“She’s fine. The bullet didn’t shatter and there’s no shrapnel inside,” Kala reassures him. “We’ll deal with it after her wound is cleaned and dressed. I don’t want it to get infected.” Having settled them, she grabs a bottle and uncaps it.

A stinging liquid douses your open wound and you cry out, struggling to no avail as they keep you still. V keeps whispering soothing words into your ear, but the scalding fire in your arm keeps you from noticing anything else. And then it stops, relief washing over you as your body goes limp.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” he croons though there’s an edge to his voice, his grip tightening around you.

“Let me dress it and we’ll be finished,” Kala says. “I’ll deal with it right after.”

Exhaustion seeps through you as your body weakens. The next thing you know, V is sliding his arms beneath you and lifting you up. Your head slumps against his chest, void of any strength as you’re carried away, leaving behind the blood and horror from tonight while consciousness fades into oblivion.

~*~

Trickling water draws you from unconsciousness and you hear gentle humming nearby. Someone rubs a warm rag against the skin of your arms, being mindful of your injury before draping it across your forehead. Quiet footsteps pad closer and fingers press into the side of your neck for a moment.

“Pulse is steady now that the fever seems to have gone,” Kala murmurs. “I’m cleaning the wound again, so watch her for me.” She walks away, sifting through some drawers before returning to sit down beside you.

Hands slip under your torso while she removes the pillow from beneath your arm before it’s replaced by a towel as you’re lowered back down. She unwraps the gauze from your shoulder, briefly examining your wound and then pouring a splash of liquid onto it. It’s initially cold yet quickly consumed by a heat that turns boiling for a split second, causing you to twitch. You sense Kala momentarily jerk back before putting the liquid away so she can dry you.

She pats your arm while another person rubs your hand. “Afraid of getting hit too?” V snickers from beside you.

You hear Kala snort. “I’ve treated children far more feistier, Your Highness. According to Lhaine, she just got lucky,” she laughs softly. Her fingers prod around your shoulder and then she wraps new gauze around you. Removing her supplies, V lifts you again so she can slide the pillow back underneath. “Has your father said anything on the matter?”

“Not yet. He’s asking the guards now about the incident.” You hear him struggle for words before he eventually sighs in resignation. “Someone actually brought a blessed weapon here.”

“Yes,” Kala answers. “That bullet had holy water residue. Since she’s human it has no other effects on her. I’m taking the proper measures to dispose of it.”

V inhales deeply and rubs the side of his face. “Is there a way to study it without any issue?”

“Absolutely not, Your Highness,” she admonishes. “Even those with strong experience are at risk of poisoning themselves at any given moment.”

“We need to know where it came from otherwise everyone here is at risk. As I’m one of the likely targets, it should be my responsibility to examine it.”

“Regardless, it will just put you and your family in more danger. With all due respect Your Highness, I will go ahead and examine it to aid in the investigation, especially since only the four of us know.” A sink is turned on briefly as she washes her hands. “In the meantime, will you be lying low until this is resolved?”

V lets out a quiet laugh. “I think you know me well enough to know the answer to that,” he states.

“You’re right. Even if it would be in your best interest, though perhaps not just for you.”

“She has nothing to do with this.”

“That might’ve been true at one point, but maybe not anymore. Not after she saved you from an assassination. Isn’t she the one you happened upon in the forest out of nowhere?” She wonders.

“Yes, caught in the crossfire of two rival soul feeders.” His words are clipped and there’s a spark of annoyance within.

She sighs and there’s a rustle of movement. “Come now, I don’t see her as a traitor. Let’s step outside, so we don’t disturb her.” V stands and you hear their footsteps fade. “Even if the attack wasn’t for you, something could be after her instead.”

It’s the last thing you hear her say as the door quietly opens and shuts before silence envelopes the room. You lie there for a few minutes, letting your thoughts swarm with questions until sleep overcomes you once more.

~*~

The next time you emerge from unconsciousness it’s due to the same sound of trickling water. Only now there’s a wet rag being taken across your body. The room is warm enough that you just barely feel the cool air. You hear the cloth dipped another time into the bowl before you’re given one more brief scrub and then the person tosses it into the sink where it makes a dull thud. They dry your body with a towel, lifting your head to carefully slip a gown over it, another pair of hands helping your arms through the sleeves until they can slowly work it down to cover you. Only when you’re situated do they stand to remove the bowl of water and towels.

“I believe the caregiving tasks suit you,” Kala murmurs.

“Shut up,” Lhaine scoffs below her breath. “Another day and she’d stink of rotting food,” she whispers.

“It’s only been a few days. Your nose is too sensitive. Speaking of delightful food, do you want me to bring you something for lunch?” Kala asks, passing by Lhaine to head to the door.

Lhaine grunts before sharply hissing, “don’t pull my hair,” earning a shh from the other woman. “And yes, some meat would be nice,” she adds.

Kala opens the door only to stop short. “Oh, it seems someone beat me to it. Good day, sir.”

“Good day, Ms. Kala. Pleasure to see you,” a man greets in return.

Beside you, Lhaine groans to herself. “Damn it, not you.” When the door shuts she lets out a huff. “What do you want, asshole?” She asks.

Through squinted eyes you peek and catch a glimpse of black hair coming around the partition at the door.

“Come now, surely you can be nicer than that, Ungoldil,” Jin scolds.

“Since when have you cared about formalities? Besides, I thought you liked my sharp tongue,” she mocks.

“And I thought you liked your hair pulled, but maybe just in our case.”

“Fuck off!”

Her sudden increase in volume causes you to involuntarily flinch and Jin’s eyes catch your own. He tsks. “Now, now, you’ve woken your friend with your shouting.”

Lhaine turns to you, cheeks flushed as she clamps her mouth shut for a second. “You’re awake,” she says once she finds her voice. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shake your head, feeling awkward at having been caught inadvertently eavesdropping. “It’s okay,” you reassure her, your words rough from your throat being dry. “I can just go back to sleep.”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Lhaine hurriedly answers while getting to her feet. “He was just leaving anyway.” She strides around your cot to Jin and grabs the tray of food from him, only for him to keep a tight hold on it.

“Actually I was coming to collect something, but a trade works too,” he says. Raising his right hand up to her, he wiggles his fingers at her though the fourth one is missing.

She stares at it, mouth partially open until she closes it and shrugs. “Well it’s certainly not here.”

“I think you might have taken it, whether by accident or on purpose, I’m not sure.”

“Why would I want your stupid finger?” She wonders, nose crinkling as her upper lip curls. “Besides if you think I have it, then just go get it.”

He pauses and looks as though he’s contemplating something while he stares for a moment. “Wherever it is, it’s not warm anymore,” he pointedly notes.

Her hands clasp hard around the sides of the tray, lips pinched together. “Leave,” she finally insists.

“I want my finger back.”

“Here’s a finger for you,” she replies, flipping her middle finger at him. “Now go, Y/N needs to rest.”

Jin glances over at you before sighing. “We’ll talk later,” he tells her, letting go of the tray and opening the door to let himself out.

“No, we won’t,” she retorts in a lighthearted tone as she slams the door in his face with a sweet smile. Lhaine comes over to sit back down with you and sets the platter on the table. Helping you sit up, she props another thick pillow behind you, fluffing the one under your arm. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I think.” Your voice is still scratchy and you clear your throat. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine, now that you’re okay,” she admits, fetching a glass of water which she helps you drink. After you finish about half the glass she sets it on the nightstand. “You sure had a night to remember I’m sure.”

You nod. “Yeah. . .don’t think I’ll be forgetting that anytime soon.” Observing your shoulder, you see the white gauze peeking through the fabric of the plum colored nightgown. “How long have I been out?”

“A good three, maybe four days or so. You had a small fever that kept you out of it, but your injury seems to be healing well I think, though I’m not the physician here,” she laughs to herself, pushing her hair back with her hand.

Sitting up further, you lean in close. “What happened to your face?” You ask upon noticing the purplish bruise above her cheekbone.

Lhaine quickly pulls her hair back down, hiding her face except for one of her red eyes that peers sheepishly at you. “It’s from that night,” she explains, “you managed to get a quick hit in when we were helping you. Not that I blame you. It’s nothing really.”

“Wow,” you exhale, “I’m sorry,” you say though she shakes her head. You can barely recall brief images, but mostly just remember the burning sensation that encapsulated you.

To the left, past the small row of cots you see the concrete slab where you were laid out not too long ago. Now that you’re awake and coherent, you can actually take in the space of the infirmary. Above the operating table hangs a round fluorescent surgical light that’s fixated to the ceiling. Medical carts are scattered about the space, packed to the brim with bottles, syringes and other equipment. On the opposite side of the room, is a glass door that leads out onto a small balcony. Next to it, sits a heavy stone bookshelf that’s built into the wall beside the countertop and cabinets. The shelf is lined with books of various sizes with some being held in place by vibrantly colored geodes as well as the occasional potted plant that range in green, purple, or red.

“It doesn’t even feel real,” you admit, lifting your hand to rub your eyes of leftover sleep.

She sniffs. “Yeah, you’re telling me. No one ever scores a free hit with me.”

You slap the air in front of her with your good arm and she leans away. “I was talking about the night in general.”

“Yeah,” she huffs, “I know. I’m just trying to distract you, and me,” she lightly adds at the end. She looks toward the medicinal cabinets and chews on her lip.

With your same good arm, you reach out and rest your palm on the back of her hand. She tenses beneath you before putting her other hand on top, rubbing yours in return. Heaving a sigh, she turns back to you, mouth quirking up on one side in a partial smile. “You actually had us a bit worried there for a minute. I mean, not that we don’t trust in Kala’s skills, she’s the absolute best, we just weren’t expecting anything like that to happen.”

“You weren’t expecting anything crazy on Hallow’s Evening?” You ask with mild disbelief.

“Well no,” she starts, “I mean there’s always that thought in the back of everyone’s mind at some point because it’s a big event and something’s bound to go wrong, but that was pretty entertaining. When we were getting dressed, I was actually looking forward to it.” There’s a pause as she hesitates, momentarily thinking over her words. “Since you’ve been here, things have been a lot more entertaining.”

Lhaine abruptly looks up, misty eyes meeting yours through strands of hair. “Sometimes I forget that we’re supposed to be rotting away in this nightmare of a plane.” She inhales and starts talking fast. “And then when you got shot you were cold, ice cold for what felt like a good minute and I know we were all sweating, but at one point the thought of you dying crossed my mind and it hurt. Not that I’d blame you for leaving in any way, shape or form because there’s so many better places besides being stuck here yet I didn’t want you to leave like that,” her words trail off, the film in her eyes tremble and you scoot closer to her, being mindful of your injury and she backs away. “Hey, no I’m fine, stop moving, you idiot,” she protests until you successfully throw an arm around her shoulders.

Beneath your hold, you feel her frame quiver slightly before she wraps her arms around you. In the silence, you feel her rapid breathing continue for another minute then eventually settle into a steady pace. “You’re a good friend, Lhaine,” you whisper. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Her warm breath fans your back as she sighs, “You’re welcome.” Giving you a tight squeeze she releases you, leaning back in her chair and reaches for the silver tray. “You hungry? Stupid question because I know I am so I’m sure you are too,” she says, lifting the dome to reveal a thick, circular cutlet of meat with green vegetables and a bread roll. The scent wafts around you both and is instantly met by each of your growling stomachs. “Oh fuck yes,” she crows. “This is the good shit.” She grabs the utensils and begins cutting the meat, stealing a small piece for herself as she pops it in her mouth. Chewing slowly, her head falls back slightly while she savors it. “Haven’t had this in a long time,” she hums. Wiping her mouth, she pushes the platter to you, gesturing for you to dig in. “Sorry, I just really wanted a taste. Eat as much as you want.”

“We can share, it’s your meal too,” you insist. “Also when did you used to eat this?” You wonder.

She hesitates just as the door opens and a woman steps inside carrying her own plate of food. The azure chiffon dress she wears stops just below her knees, thin sleeves wrapped around her biceps leave the dark brown skin of her shoulders and arms exposed. Her pressed raven black hair sits low at her shoulders, locks twisting into ringlets at the end. Kala slows her walk as she sees the two of you huddled together. “Ah, it’s good to see you awake, Ms. Y/N. Unfortunate that our first meeting had to be under such awful circumstances. How are you feeling?” She asks, going to set her food down before walking up to the side of your cot. “May I?” She motions to your shoulder and you nod, gently lifting it up for her to examine.

“I’m okay, just sore and a little tired,” you tell her, catching Lhaine in your peripherals tossing another small piece of meat into her mouth and quietly chewing.

“That’s expected. You’ll be feeling like this for about a month though with rest you’ll be able to move better in a few days,” she informs you, leaning down to carefully touch your shoulder. “As for eating, you should be fine, but take it easy. Too much at first will make you sick,” she warns, standing upright. Glancing at the food she cocks her head to the side. “Spiced amlug? I’m surprised he remembered your favorite, Lhaine.” Kala goes to her desk and sits down, opening a large book to read while ignoring the seething glower Lhaine sends in her direction.

“Your favorite?”

Lhaine rolls her eyes. “He probably just has a good memory, that's all,” she merely answers.

“That’s all?” You repeat.

She regards you with a dead stare before reaching for a chunk of meat and shoving it in your mouth. “We were a thing for a while. Hooked up and fucked one Hallow’s Evening, then just kept seeing each other.” She takes a piece of meat for herself, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. “We stayed like that for some time until he moved on and I got too comfortable,” she spits, tearing the roll of bread in half and taking a bite.

“Do you still like him?” You ask, picking up a fork to stab some of the vegetables and eating them. “Also didn’t his hair used to be pink?”

Muttering under her breath, Lhaine responds with, “He shattered later on that night after the party and his hair color changes each time he does. And no,” she says curtly. “I used to like him, but now I’m done.”

Kala clears her throat, mumbling something under her breath and you barely make out the words, “but is he done?”

Lhaine clenches the roll between her fingers, nails crushing the soft food.

“Throw that bread at me and I’ll cut your hair off,” Kala warns, her body tensing as she grabs a scalpel off the medical cart.

“Seriously, who throws bread?” Lhaine yells incredulously. “Obviously, the best choice of weapons are the knife and fork at the very least. Shit, even the tray is better than a piece of dough.”

“We’re not throwing anything,” you tell her, patting her shoulder. “Let’s just eat. We won’t talk about men.”

“Yeah, you just don’t want to be interrogated either,” Lhaine mutters and you flick some vegetables at her before you both quietly eat your meal.

~*~

Later in the evening after Lhaine leaves to finish the remainder of her chores as well as yours, with your insistence to help being met by strict orders to not even leave the infirmary, Kala examines your wound beneath the candlelight. The gaping hole is still raw, but it’s slowly beginning to scar over with tissue. You try not to stare for too long, not needing an inside look at your body and everything else inside. As she gently washes the wound out with a wet rag, you inadvertently wince each time the fabric tugs at the torn skin. “Looks like it’s healing well,” she notes, prodding at the bullet hole and tenderly feeling around the mark.

“That’s good,” you say, keeping your focus on the sketch of some constellation that hangs on the wall. “When do you think I’ll be able to get back to work?”

Cold gel is rubbed against the wound and you’re met with a burning pain that flashes for a second before becoming cool once more. “Full recovery takes about a month, but even then I wouldn’t recommend any heavy lifting for quite some time. You’re going to be feeling it for a while.”

When she lets go of your arm, you carefully shrug it and moan at the twinge of pain. “I believe it.”

“I can recommend some exercises to help loosen the muscles that’ll help get functionality back.” She rewraps the gauze around your shoulder, clamping the pieces together. “You’re not bleeding anymore so that’s promising,” she tells you, standing to go rinse her hands.

You nod, readjusting your propped position amongst the pillows. “I imagine I looked much worse in the beginning.”

Kala shuts the water off and dries her hands, setting the towel over the rim of the sink. “When they brought you in you were practically in death’s clutches.” She glances at the door suddenly, looking back at you as she starts walking towards it. “I guess they decided to let you go,” she adds, pulling the door open though the partition blocks your view even as you try and peek around it.

“How is she?” You hear someone ask.

“Ask her yourself,” Kala replies, shutting the door behind them.

V comes inside and pauses when he sees you sitting upright. “You’re awake,” he says, eyes wide for a moment until he relaxes and walks toward you.

“Before you ask Your Highness, yes I did let you know as ordered, but you weren’t awake and simply mumbled incoherent nonsense before falling back asleep,” Kala explains as she steps by him to go sit at her desk.

“I was?” The prince asks, rubbing the dark spots below his eyes and you notice his hair is slightly unkempt as though he were just waking from said nap. “I don’t even remember. Regardless, thank you, Ms. Kala.”

“Of course, Your Highness. Her wound is also healing well, she just needs rest,” is her quick reassurance as she opens her book and begins reading, taking a sip from her drink while also scribbling something into her notebook.

He sighs, tension visibly leaving his body. “I’m glad to hear that.” Using the chair Kala was in earlier, he repositions it before sitting down on the cushioned seat. “And you’re doing okay?” He asks, regarding you carefully.

You nod. “Yeah, just a little tired.”

“I imagine so,” he agrees, his eyes slipping shut before reopening as he meets your own. “Y/N, I’m so sorry you had to experience something like that,” he apologizes, his face contorting with grief and you’re quick to reassure him.

Shrugging with your good arm, you say, “It’s fine really. It’s not your fault someone brought a gun and decided to use it.”

Your words are met with an awkward silence as V pauses while Kala shifts in her seat, her gaze fixated on the pages. He rubs his hands together, pursing his lips. “Actually they were more than likely aiming for me.”

“No. . .” you start, but cut yourself off, remembering exactly how the events unfolded in sequence.

He catches the hesitation in your voice. “That’s why you pushed me out of the way.”

“I saw the reflection of the light and didn’t even stop to think, I just ran,” you admit.

V reaches out to hold your hand and rests your palm in his, his thumb caressing the back. “You could’ve been killed,” he murmurs softly.

“Technically you could say that about most of my encounters,” you point out with a small laugh.

It only causes him to sigh in return. “You’re not wrong. And while I’m eternally grateful, you shouldn’t have to risk your life for mine.”

“And you shouldn’t have to worry about being murdered by someone,” you refute.

“It comes with my particular circumstances.”

“Well it shouldn’t,” you insist with a huff. You go to cross your arms yet stop short at the annoying ache in your shoulder so you opt to simply fold your good arm over your torso, gripping onto the opposite bicep. “And you can’t just ascend now?” You ask, vaguely remembering him mentioning it during one of your previous conversations.

He barks a laugh at that, smiling to himself with a shake of his head before his expression sobers. “Little dove, I’m afraid it’s not so easy. I have to be of a certain age, which I’m close to, but still not quite there yet. There’s also specific accomplishments and training that I have to complete as well. It goes for any demon that can ascend. All this to ensure we’re truly prepared for immortality. And in my case, the joys of royalty.”

“It’s very archaic,” Kala pipes in and V tilts his head, pursing his lips but doesn’t deny it.

Your fingers press against the sides of your forehead before you tiredly rest against the palm of your hand. “So if you didn’t survive being shot, then what, it’s just your fault?” You scoff. “That’s stupid.”

That earns you another quirk of his lips while Kala lets out a giggle to which she quickly muffles with her hand though she doesn’t stop. “Can you be the one to convince my mother of that? Maybe she’ll finally let me ascend and then convince the Queen to do the same for you,” she tells the prince.

He looks over his shoulder at her where she scribbles something down on her paper. “I would be incredibly surprised if we managed to do that. Even so, my father wouldn’t approve in the slightest. He’s much too intent on keeping with tradition.”

“Even if it meant protecting you from harm?”

As soon as you utter the question, there’s an immediate shift in the room as uncomfortable silence heavily swells inside, growing with each passing second. V pauses as though contemplating your words while you worriedly glance at Kala who hesitates, tapping her nails together. She grabs her pencil and notebook before getting to her feet. “I’m going to head outside and record more of my notes,” she says, gesturing towards the balcony and slides the door open to walk out into the night air. The cool breeze seeps into the room before being cut off by the closing door.

“I’m sorry,” you hurriedly apologize, “I didn’t mean to sound so disrespectful.”

V shakes his head, his hand still holding yours as he uses his thumb to caress along your skin. “It’s alright, I understand what you meant. My father does care for me even if he doesn’t show it often. In his mind, if I can succeed with my own trials while surviving these attacks, then others will see it as futile to even try. Even after ascending, I’ll have shown that I won’t easily be undermined. Meaning my parents can finally rest peacefully without constantly fearing for my safety. I know that’s all they want in the end.”

“As any loving parent would. I know I’m still not familiar with how things are here but I think I can see how it makes sense.”

“There’s a reason why we uphold these customs. My family just has it more difficult, unfortunately,” he answers with a somber shrug of his shoulders.

“Not for too much longer because you’ll be victorious,” you assure.

Your insistence has him rolling his eyes at your choice of words. “I appreciate the confidence, little dove,” he chuckles before it’s cut off by a sudden yawn, causing you to inadvertently follow suit as exhaustion pries open your mouth. “Of course, I think my savior deserves some sleep after saving my life, don’t you think?” He wonders, readjusting in his seat.

Your lips quirk up at his humor. “I would’ve done it again.”

“And for that I truly thank you for that selfless act of bravery,” he answers sincerely, the lighthearted humor vanishing as he meets your eyes intently. Despite the exhaustion that’s currently weighing him down, there’s clarity in his words. The hand still atop yours flexes but the grip doesn’t tighten against you, instead almost forming a barrier around your limb.

“You’re welcome,” you softly murmur, struck by his honesty. “But if there’s anything else I can do to help, I’ll do whatever I can. I want to catch this person too.”

He shakes his head. “Take some time to rest then and gather your strength first.”

“Okay,” you sigh, “I will. But I’ll have to return to work soon. I don’t like that Lhaine has to manage both of our chores and besides I’m sure Miss doesn’t want me gone for too long.” She could be logging an entire list of tasks to keep you busy for an eternity for all you know.

“Miss will get over it,” he dismisses, noticing your skeptic look before insisting, “she will. Other humans have had to stop working in the past before, so she knows it’s a possibility.”

“Yeah, because they all got turned into mannequins or something worse.”

V grimaces. “Those were special instances.”

“At least my near-death experience was a little more normal,” you shrug, wincing at the pain flaring in your shoulder.

He smooths his thumb across your hand. “I wouldn’t exactly say normal.”

That has you tilting your head slightly. “Are assassination attempts not the norm around here?”

“Not in the comforts of our home, no,” he admits. “It’s usually when we’re out in public, or so I’ve heard.”

“Maybe this’ll be the last time for a while,” you say in an attempt to sound hopeful though it comes across as more desperate than anything.

Regardless, he still smiles wanly at you. “Your optimism is remarkable.”

“You gotta start somewhere,” you say before being cut off by another incessant yawn.

He gently releases your hand and sets it down on the mattress. “I should let you sleep. Though you’re probably missing your new bed I assume.”

“Actually, I think this one is just about as comfortable if not more than the one in my room.” While the basic cot’s mattress isn’t exactly as supportive, it’s at least fluffy enough that you don’t feel as though you’re sleeping on harsh springs somewhat hidden beneath a solid pallet. It’s a step up compared to the ones in the servant’s quarters for sure.

V raises his brows skeptically. “You lie,” he mocks.

His response has you cocking your head to the side. “Oh, yeah? Have you slept in this bed?”

“It’s been some time since I’ve had to spend the night recovering in the infirmary and while I know these cots are meant to be comfortable, nothing can compare to the other beds we so kindly provide.”

“Well they’ve been upgraded since then,” you say, slamming your fist into the mattress.

Immediately, you wince upon feeling the sharp pinch in your poor shoulder, earning a hiss from V. “Easy, you silly human,” he demands, holding a hand against your back near your shoulder blade. “Is this honestly a result of your sleep deprivation?”

“Could ask the same about you,” you retort, motioning to his tired eyes which causes them to fill with amusement.

He briefly stands before silently urging you to scooch over while he sits down beside you. Leaning back against the headboard, he lets his head rest on the stone wall. “Your persistence knows no bounds. Yes, this is relaxing, but my bed is much better without a doubt.”

“Now who’s lying?” You mutter, laying your own head back as well. “If this one was a bit bigger, then your fancy bed wouldn’t stand a chance.”

V laughs silently, his frame shaking next to you while he crosses both his arms and legs. “You’re ridiculous,” he mumbles beneath his breath.

A calming hush fills the room as the two of you quietly relish in the serene space. While your body slowly unwinds, there’s a sudden weight on top of your head that has you jumping slightly. “Your Highness?”

He responds with a gentle hum.

“You might want to get to your own bed before you fall for this one,” you suggest, though your own eyelids are also becoming heavy.

“That’s just the result of my exhaustion. I’ll leave in five minutes or you can just shove me off now.”

You nudge him softly in return. “Whatever,” is the best you can come up with at the moment. The tug of sleep draws you further close to it as you ease your own head onto his shoulder. Five minutes is tempting to your body as you let yourself rest your eyes as well only to fall into a heavenly slumber.

~*~

The next few days you remain in the infirmary along with Kala though Lhaine and V are typical visitors. At one point Lhaine even brought you a note from someone unexpected. The small paper had only four words reading, Get some rest -Miss. In between these brief visits, Kala oversees your improvements by cleaning and checking your wound while also giving you simple exercises to do in the meantime.

Tonight though, you’re visited by someone else. “Good evening, sir,” Kala greets from her position at her desk with her usual reading material. While holding your arm at a ninety degree angle for your stretching sessions, you look to find Min standing by the partition near the entrance.

“Hello,” he answers. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” His signature black fabric covers his eyes yet he walks with a surety, seeming to know exactly where all the furniture is as he easily steps around it.

“Not at all, please come in and have a seat.”

He turns his head and walks forward, deftly maneuvering his way around while using his fingers to graze against the simple wooden chairs. As he sits down in the seat beside you, you slide your legs over the edge so you can face him better.

“How are you, sir?” You ask.

Tilting his head, he stares directly where you are, giving you a sweet smile. “I’m alright, and you?”

“Better,” you admit.

“I’m glad to hear that. You’ve had quite the ordeal I imagine.”

“It was. . .eventful.”

Min chuckles at that though there’s no humor behind it. “That’s an understatement. Haven’t had such a thing like that in over a decade I believe.” There’s a bout of silence and then Min clears his throat. “Actually, besides seeing how you were obviously, the reason I’m here is because Jeon wanted me to give you something.” He retrieves a folded paper from his pocket and hands it to you. “He thought of delivering it himself, but didn’t want to take any risks.”

You take the paper and unfold it, revealing another strange drawing. This one consists of a 3-D rectangular box with a smaller one at the front and a square off to the side though no lines meet at the bottom. The sheet is colored with black scratches that cover the entire area though most of it is darkened in the center.

“I understand. Tell him thank you for the drawing,” you say, staring at the various lines and shapes on the page.

He lets out a faint laugh before asking, “Is it just as confusing as the previous one?”

You smile in return. “I think there’s more lines than before, but I’ll have to compare them. What have your visions been like if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Dark,” is all he says. Through the fabric of the blindfold, you see him clench his eyes shut, faint creases appearing along his forehead. “And I don’t mean figuratively. Anything I try to focus on is covered in a fog and it’s hard to see. It’s all just blurry shadows and incredibly frustrating,” he sighs, running a hand through his blond hair.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Don’t be. It’s not an issue, but hopefully it passes quickly. I don’t like feeling lost any more than my visions already make me,” he admits with a short jerk of his head.

“I can only imagine. And there’s nothing you can do except wait?”

His fingers tap the sides of the chair as he slightly nods. “Pretty much. It’s most likely showing me something that’s currently happening, which if it is, then I just have to wait until it’s resolved.”

Hesitating, you examine the paper again, eying the simple lines of the drawing dubiously. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“I know you and Jeon can’t interfere with each other’s abilities, but from past experiences, what does he usually draw in his pictures? What do they end up representing?” Even if he can’t say much, any idea would be helpful when you’re dealing with such vague symbolisms. Unless the answer is obvious, then you really should brush up on your sleuthing skills.

His lips pinch together as he contemplates your question. “It’s hard to say because there’s such a variety at times. I’ve seen images of people, creatures, places, and things. It’s rare that there’s any details or distinguishing features, but I think it’s mostly specific objects from what I can tell.”

“Well his clues are interesting for sure,” you admit, looking down at the sketch once more.

“Yes, they are, though if you ever get the chance, I recommend viewing his personal art, the ones he draws for enjoyment. They’re extraordinary and very detailed.” He grins wholeheartedly at that, a fondness on his face you haven’t seen as strongly before.

“He’s an artist?”

Min hums in response. “He likes doing it in his spare time, that is, when RM has time to spare and isn’t meeting with people. It gives him an outlet from all the abstract images the future bestows upon him.”

The sheet crinkles in your hands as you continue fiddling with the edges. “It must be hard on him too,” you softly note.

He gives a forlorn smile. “All of our powers are considered gifts, rewards granted to us for being lucky or something along those lines.”

“So we’re told,” Kala pipes in, snorting lightly under her breath which causes him to laugh at that.

Running a hand through his hair, he notes, “You’re not wrong there.”

Your eyes shift between the two of them. “Why do you say that?”

Min rubs the back of his neck while Kala ducks her head, using her fist to cover her grin before eventually answering. “It’s just everyone’s pretty old fashioned and needs to get over themselves. Like we talked about the other day, everything’s archaic.” She acknowledges your blank expression by simply shaking her head. “It’s nothing, we’re just venting.”

“Shh, they might consider that complaining,” Min chuckles before cocking his head to the side. “I should probably go since it’s getting late,” he says, standing up.

You glance over at the clock and see it’s just past 10:00. It’s been easy for you to lose track of time since staying here.

“It was good to see you, sir,” Kala says from her seat.

“Same to the both of you. Have a good night.”

You respond with a farewell of your own before it’s just you and Kala. She gets to her feet and heads over to the bookshelf, retrieving another book then returns to her desk that already has plenty more sprawled across. Figuring you might as well do the same, you grab your book about demons that Lhaine had thankfully brought you. Entertainment is important, she had insisted. You also stare at Jeon’s drawings from time to time until your eyes eventually glaze over and cause the shapes to morph into unidentifiable masses. If there’s a connection between the demon haunting your sister and his drawings, finding it feels damn near impossible.

“You’re not going to bed?” Kala asks, not bothering to look up from her own reading. “Or is it just too lonely over there?”

“What? No!” You yelp before letting out a groan. After falling asleep with V, you had woken up by yourself on your side with the covers pulled up high. Kala had merely asked if you slept well yet the obvious undertone couldn’t be missed. Rubbing the circles beneath your eyes, you shake your head at her with a sleepy grin. “I was just doing some light reading,” you answer. “Will you be going to bed soon?”

She shrugs. “Eventually. Maybe after the next chapter or two.”

“What are you reading, some medical textbook?” You wonder, catching a glimpse of some diagrams as she turns the page.

“What, no!” She scoffs. “I’m not reading any of that boring stuff.”

Your brows furrow at that, eyeing the various multicolored tonics and remedies lining the medicine cabinet, a couple you had actually seen her craft in her spare time. “Aren’t you the physician here?”

This causes her to actually look up at you. “What do you mean, oh,” she says, realization dawning on her face, “I get it. I know that’s what they call me around here since that’s technically my position, but it’s temporary.”

“Temporary?”

“Mmhm. Seriously, if you want the family’s physician that would be my mother,” she laughs, propping her head on her hand as she taps the side of her face with her nails. “We came to an agreement that if I practiced here for some time as her replacement, then I’d be free to do as I pleased afterwards.”

“You don’t want to be a physician?”

Kala shrugs. “It’s not for me. Don’t get me wrong,” she reassures, “I like helping others and it’s a great skill to have but there are so many other things out there I’d rather be doing, you know?”

Standing up from your bed, you walk towards her and climb onto the stool next to hers. Now that you’re closer, you can see the book she’s reading seems to be about space, judging from the various diagrams of constellations. “So you like astronomy?”

“Yeah, consider it a passion of mine. And you?” She asks, gesturing to your book over by the bed.

“Oh, that’s. . .research,” you answer.

“Research?” She wonders. “Are you a scientist?”

You shake your head with a laugh, waving your hand in disregard. “No way! That’s not my strong suit at all. I mean space is cool, but I just like to look at the stars mostly.”

She leans close, tapping the pages of her book. “So you can truly see the stars in your world.” Kala bites the inside of her cheek as you nod. “Can’t deny that I’m envious. You live in a place with beautiful sights and yet you’re down here because,” she trails off, her brows quirking together.

You lean your elbows on the desk. “Something attached itself to my sister back home and I’m trying to figure out what it is.”

She blinks, her face reflecting her confusion. “Don’t you have specialists that know how to fix that? Or can at least help?”

“It’s not that simple,” you sigh, “especially if they don’t know anything about it.”

“So your bright idea was to come all the way to Hell and fix it yourself?”

You roll your eyes. “That wasn’t the plan. I didn’t know the person offering help was a literal demon and I was almost tricked into signing a contract with him. I know I’m desperate but I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.”

“And yet your main goal is to still find a cure for her, which might as well if you’re stuck here regardless. That’s quite the determination,” she notes.

“Of course, I’d do anything for her,” is your immediate response.

She breaths a hiss of air in through her teeth. “I’d be careful who you say that to,” she warns, “people won’t be so trusting of you.”

“What, why? She’s my sister.”

Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she readjusts in her seat. “Family ties aren’t always that deep. Besides, showing such dedication will draw the wrong attention. How far are you willing to go for one person and who would you take out in the process?”

Scoffing under your breath, you look around the quiet space. Your reflection in the medicine cabinets attached to the stone wall reflects back your confused expression. “But I wouldn’t do that.”

“Are you sure? When people get desperate, nothing’s too far for them.”

You turn and meet her brown eyes, specks of amber giving a faint glow beneath the light in the room while she calmly regards you. “Wait,” you start, “you don’t think I had anything to do with what happened that night, do you?” You breathe the last syllables out in a quiet exhale.

Her fingers play with the ends of her hair, twirling the strands at the end as she lightly shoves your stool with her foot. “No. I haven’t known you long enough but I don’t think you’d do something like this. Yet some will see it as suspicious that you were there at the right place, right time.”

People aren’t seriously going to suspect you of being an assassin’s accomplice, right? Yet you could think of a certain trio that would probably relish in your downfall. As if you need any more headaches. “I literally got shot. Isn’t me taking a bullet for someone, the Prince no less, counterintuitive if I was plotting something?”

She grimaces, continuing to tug the strands of her raven hair. “No, because you’re not the first, not even close.”

Her response has you shifting in your seat. “What do you mean? How many times has this happened to him?”

“Oh, not just him. I think this might’ve been the first one where they got close to almost killing him but with the others, it was more frequent and usually when they were young.”

Your body tenses in realization. “The others, his siblings,” you murmur softly.

She gives a slight nod, shutting her book and pushing it aside. “While my mother was a physician here she helped the Queen a lot. Apparently, she had trouble conceiving at first. My mother tried everything, elixirs, remedies, spells, even ancient rituals, anything she could think of,” she sighs. “Once the Queen carried to term, they thought it was over. But even though the baby was born healthy, they suddenly became ill and passed in a matter of days. And it never stopped.”

Kala crosses her arms over each other, resting her elbows on the concrete table. “They hardly ever made it past infancy. It frustrated my mother so much that she couldn’t help no matter what she did. She scoured every tome that seemed promising and eventually she created a strengthening potion that worked. They became stronger, some even growing into adulthood only to die before they could ascend. It was only then that the family realized they were being targeted, not cursed like most believed. The King massacred all the servants except for a very small handful,” she takes a deep breath, her hands flexing into fists before continuing, “they spared mother because of her progress. They brought in new servants; it didn’t work. Nothing has.” She looks away, focusing on the blank wall beside her.

“And there’s nothing anyone can do?”

She shrugs. “They’ve tried. At first, I heard the family tried keeping them from the public eye, but no one’s going to take well being cooped up in their own home like a cage. My mother said the son was found just inside the Crooked Forest with missing limbs and organs,” she answers softly.

You inhale sharply, grimacing at her description and rub your own arms. “And they still continued to die,” you whisper.

She gives a curt nod. “Every single one. It’s been over a decade since I’ve worked here and V is the only Prince I’ve met. He’s apparently one of the few to make it to adulthood. Not just that but like he mentioned earlier, he’s relatively close to ascending.”

Again, there’s that term you keep hearing, even though you hardly know much about it. “What does it mean to ascend exactly? It’s obviously important.”

“Besides the fact that demons can become truly immortal? It means a demon will have obtained their abilities to the fullest extent. Lesser demons can’t ascend, but to those with immense strength or gifts, especially if they have royal blood, it’s a great achievement.”

“Do you also have incredible strength or a gift too?”

She nods, her body slightly relaxing as she lets go of her arms. “Yes, I have the ability to see all the veins in the body.” You watch as her eyes begin glowing, the flecks of amber sparkling a bright gold that spreads across her irises. “That’s how I could find the bullet and see how much damage was done. My mother can do the same, but she can also see fractures in bone and tears in muscles,” she explains, her irises dulling before returning to their usual color.

You blink a few times, staring in surprise before asking, “But you’re not able to ascend yet?”

She rolls her eyes with a shake of her head and an irritated huff blows past her lips. “Nope, not quite. Mother says I need more time and practice first. And the thing with ascensions is no one ascends at the same age or time, it varies for multiple reasons. When your guardians or mentors think you’ve made great progress, then you have your fancy ceremony and congratulations, you’re immortal,” she sarcastically rejoices with a wave of her arms before dropping them back down on the hard stone.

“Which means nothing can harm you at that point, right? You’ve essentially won if you’re impossible to kill,” you assume.

“For the most part,” she says. “But take my mother for instance, if she were to ‘die,’” she flexes her fingers into quotations, “she could be reborn back into how she was before her death and still be herself. If someone hasn’t ascended, then once they’re dead they can’t return. Their essence or soul, spirit, take your pick, is gone. It would be like they never existed at all.”

“Wouldn’t their soul have to go somewhere?”

“No. Our essence basically dissipates, our existence forever ceased, leaving nothing but a husk of a body. If that’s not destroyed either.”

Scratching your nails along the tabletop, you bite into the inside of your cheek. “Why would someone want to ensure the family never carries on? Why them specifically?”

Again, she shrugs. “To destroy the lineage and prevent them from ever passing the crown on or to kill the entire bloodline eventually. As for your second question, maybe someone has a personal vendetta against them, I don’t know. Or there could be no reason at all, torment and suffering makes enjoyable entertainment for some.”

“And the prince has to wait just like you,” you state.

Kala nods, her lips lifting up into a faint smile yet there’s no humor in her eyes, only annoyance. “Apparently so, which is probably why he’s constantly reading and studying about politics. Since there’s been no talk of any coronation or ceremony, the family believed he’d be protected until then perhaps. The King and Queen want to ensure his safety until the time is right. But since Hallow’s Evening, that’s changed.” She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, hunching her shoulders forward. “They don’t deserve this madness.”

“No, they don’t,” you agree. The scratching of your fingernails increases in speed as you process this information. “And no one has noticed a pattern or any link associated with the other children?”

“That’s the issue,” she sighs, “their deaths vary significantly every time. Different age, different time, different method. There’s no pattern, no evidence left behind, nothing. And they never tell any of the children how their siblings have died for fear of the unknown. Not that it mattered because my mother said it was a new way every time, like some sick curse.”

When a tiny chunk of cobble is chipped away by your nails, you quickly dust it off though you catch her smirk, to which you grimace with a small apology. “But you said I’m not the first. What happened before?”

“Again I hear all this from my mother because she was here when this happened. But there was one daughter, who became close friends with a Lesser demon that worked in the stables. They became close after he saved her from a Cindersnitch. A creature that essentially poisons you only that poison feels like lava and can burn through you until you’re nothing but a charred crisp in less than an hour,” she quickly explains before you can ask. “But not long after, she was killed.”

“He killed her?”

“No, but his involvement led to her death. He was working with someone, but I guess he actually developed a bond with her. Granted they weren’t quite adults, so he may have been heavily intimidated or influenced by that person.”

“What happened to him?” You ask, though you’re pretty sure you can guess the answer.

“He was executed. They never found the assassin.”

You release a soft breath, fingers still scratching against the desk before meeting her eyes. “I’m honestly not working with anyone, I’m just trying to get back home,” you insist.

She warmly smiles. “I believe you, but things are starting to happen again now that you’re here. It’s been relatively quiet until your sudden arrival. Even if you’re not directly involved there’s something going on. And his infatuation with you might get you both in trouble. Just know that you could be the prime suspect in the next incident. And I don’t say that by me,” she reassures with a hand on your arm, effectively pausing your fingernail scraping. “The rest of the castle will be watching, especially those that have seen it happen before.”

You look at her incredulously. “I’m sorry but did you say infatuation?”

Kala blankly stares at you. “That’s what catches your attention?” She asks, laughing slightly. “Look I’ve seen him more times in this infirmary these past few days than I have since I’ve been here for the last decade. We can argue about romantic feelings or not, but you can’t deny that he does care for you.”

Definitely not wrong there. “He’s been very nice to me, so yeah, you could say we’re friends,” you admit though you’re not sure why you’re hesitating. V has been nothing but kind to you and has even helped with some of your research. Why should it matter what others think of your relationship? It’s not their business. Except it does when status is seen in such high regards. Everyone has their place here and humans are meant to be at the bottom. Certainly not supposed to be friends with a royal family of demons.

She shrugs. “Well at least you can see that much. Anyway, I’m probably going to head off to sleep. And you should too, you already look like you’re about to pass out,” Kala notes, indicating to your tired frame that’s slowly becoming heavy.

“You’re right, we probably should,” you say, getting to your feet and walking towards your bed before climbing in while she puts her things away. “Good night, Kala.”

She bids you good night as well and you’re already drifting off to sleep as soon as your head meets the pillow.

~*~

Though the prince refuses to send you back to work, you still accompany Lhaine under the guise of keeping her company, but still there are some tasks you help with, so long as it doesn’t require heavy lifting. Except for sneaking cans of food down to the dungeon though you use your uninjured arm instead to carry the bucket down the steps.

Upon entering, you notice no one is as eager for food compared to other times you’ve delivered it. Then again, there’s not as many people present once you count only half a dozen bodies, less than half from before, remaining. Most are hidden in the shadows and you barely see their hunched or curled forms, some close together while others stay far apart. Hakyeon is among the few left, not even bothering to spare you a glance, keeping his head trained low. Only when you whisper his name does he look up from his propped position, revealing thin scratches and dark bruises lined across his face.

“I’m afraid we’ve already had our fill for the day, darling,” he says, eyes void of emotion.

Setting the bucket down, you lift a can and hold it out in offering. “No one told me. Consider it a light snack,” you suggest.

One of the figures in the corner leaps forward with a hiss, jagged claws nearly slicing your skin as you jump back. The short horned creature swipes again until it’s grabbed by the tail and kicked to the side, knocking back into the huddled group. There’s a scuffle as they all shove each other away, growls ensuing from the rest as they take up offensive stances.

“Quiet,” Hakyeon snarls, “before you get us all in trouble.” He reaches for the can of gruel from you and throws it to the opposite side as everyone dives for it. Stretching for another, you slide the bucket closer to him, both of you tossing the cans inside until they’re satisfied for the time being. As they settle down, the sound of cracking metal echoes around the area while they slurp up their meals.

With one can remaining, you offer it to Hakyeon, who observes it for a moment before eventually taking the metallic cylinder. He breaks it open and takes a long swig. “So what brings you here today, darling? I’m afraid I won’t be able to read to you if that’s your reason,” he says, leaning against the cell door.

“No actually, I just wanted to see how you were doing,” you explain, sitting on the ground and he does the same. “What happened to everyone?”

“Does the paint not suit my face?” He wonders, using his pinkie to flick his hair to the side. When he’s met with your dead look, he chuckles under his breath. “We’ve had some lengthy interviews with the royal family. How’s your shoulder?”

“Fine, thanks for asking,” you say, rolling the joint a couple of times with hardly any soreness. “You mean they’ve been interrogating you? For what?”

He blinks, amusement flaring in his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? Surely, working must have been hard these last few days.”

“Why are they interrogating you when you’ve done nothing wrong? Also I haven’t been working.”

Hakyeon grips one of the metal bars to lean closer to you as he gives you a sly smirk. “Who’s to say I haven’t done anything wrong?” He croons with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “And I know. You’ve been cooped up in the infirmary for over a week.”

You also bring yourself forward only to narrow your eyes at him. “Stop trying to change the subject, your means of distraction are clearly not working. You’re the one who warned me something was going to happen.”

His humorous expression doesn’t change in the slightest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Things always happen during Siragar. Besides, I’m merely checking to see how you’ve been doing.”

You huff and scoot even more closer, leaning until your head is just up against the cold metal bars. “What’s going on, Hakyeon? What can’t you say?” You murmur softly.

“I can say whatever I want,” is his aloof answer.

“Then what aren’t you telling me? Do you know who the shooter is?” You basically plead, wishing he could tell you something, anything, that could be useful in figuring all this out.

His red irises, blending in with his bloodshot eyes, calmly meet yours as he stares back at you in silence, any sense of humor now gone. “I didn’t know there was a shooter.”

“Okay, so what have they been interrogating you about?”

“Everything,” he hisses, sparing a glance over to the stairwell entrance. “Look, you really shouldn’t be here. It’s not going to matter soon anyway.”

You look into the near empty cell, watching the others curl up and sleep after having finished their meal. “Have they been killing the others?” You ask, voice increasing in pitch.

“Let’s just say they won’t be coming back,” he answers darkly.

“Who ordered this to happen?”

“You’ll see for yourself soon enough. Just limit your visits in the meantime. Oh, and good luck,” he says before slinking back into his corner.

Before you can call for him, you hear the door clang open and quickly get to your feet. Lhaine peeks her head inside and finds you. “There you are. What are you doing all the way down here?”

“Food delivery,” you explain, showing her the empty bucket.

“You’re not supposed to be working, remember?” She reminds, beckoning you over. “Come on, we’re being summoned.”

“By who?”

“The family wants to talk to all the servants.”

She brings you upstairs where the kitchen is now empty. Going down the hall, she leads you to the throne room where everyone is gathered. The King, Queen, and prince are seated in their respective seats while Miss stands front and center before them. From up the stairs comes Bren with Kala and Ink, they descend quickly before getting into place along with the rest just as Rae appears with Thorn, Steel, and the floating heads.

“Everyone is accounted for, Your Majesties,” Miss informs, her back stiff as she bows low.

The King nods and stands. “Let us begin. On Hallow’s Evening, there was an assassination attempt. You will tell us everything you did and everything you know. Speak the truth only.” He jerks his head and Rae steps forward, standing just to the right of the thrones and waits. “Raelin, do you swear as Truthsayer to convey no falsehoods in all manners of speech for both yourself and those being questioned at hand?”

Rae swallows thickly, her skin pale white and face splotchy red. “By the written accords of Sailapeth, I swear on my life to relay only the truth from both myself and the questioned parties. If no falsehoods are corrected or brought to light, then my life may be subject to forfeit.”

“Miss, you will start first. Explain what you did on Hallow’s Evening.”

Your boss recounts every place she had been and for each specific purpose in a collected manner as though she’s merely telling a story. Every question she’s asked is confirmed by Rae until they move on to the next person. It continues like this, each person speaking about what they did, who they spoke to, and what they remember before and after the gunshot.

When Dust is next she steps forward, padding slowly onto the carpet before them. Her figure trembles as she twiddles her fingers together, risking a quick glance up at the King before fixating her gaze to the ground.

“Where were you that night?”

“I was in the kitchen,” the girl starts, her voice soft to where you can just barely pick up her words from the back. “Chef needed my help with the food.” While she fiddles with her hands, she puts her right foot on top of her left.

“Truth,” says Rae.

“Did you step foot in the ballroom at all?”

“Yes,” Dust murmurs.

“What did you do?”

She moves her left foot over the other now. “I danced—”

“Speak up!” The King barks. “And quit fidgeting.”

Her shaking increases tenfold and she grips the sides of her dress, taking a few breaths. “I danced with the Queen for a little, but returned to the kitchen afterwards,” she answers with a raised voice.

“Is that where you were when you heard the shot?”

She shakes her head. “I was here, in the throne room.”

“Why?”

“I was delivering another batch of sweets, but dropped them after I heard the gunshot.” Her high-pitched voice quivers as though she’s about to burst into tears at any moment and you wish you could hold her hand or do anything to provide her some form of comfort.

The King looks to Rae and she nods. “Truth.”

“What did you see?”

“Everyone running for the exits.”

“Anything suspicious?” He’s glaring at her now, shifting his position until he’s partially leaning forward.

Dust swallows but keeps her attention fixated on the ground despite feeling the glower being directed her way. “Some fought with each other, but the Sisters directed them to the proper exits,” she says, indicating to the floating heads grouped together.

There’s a pause as he considers her words before looking at Rae and she verifies her statement. “Dismissed,” he says.

From behind him, the Queen snaps her fingers and motions to Dust, beckoning her forward. The girl bows and steps around the King, giving a wide berth until she walks quickly to the thrones to crouch beside her seat. The Queen pats her cheek before stroking the top of her head.

The King shuts his eyes briefly, sighing in annoyance once, then opens his mismatched eyes to stare at the floating heads. “Bell, you will start.”

He begins asking various questions to the floating heads, each answering accordingly until Thia is the last to go.

“Thia, you kept watch in the off-limit zones to ensure guests didn’t go wandering, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Truth.”

“And all the guests cooperated? No one was seen sneaking around?”

“Yes, everyone cooperated. One guest was found wandering lost upstairs. They thought the restrooms were near the library,” she explains.

“Truth.”

He blinks his glowing eyes at her incredulously. “And you didn’t find that suspicious? An unknown person wandering around supposedly lost?”

“They had the proper markings needed to gain entry to the party,” she stutters.

“Which were?”

“A triangle with a curved arch in the center of it.”

There’s a collective gasp from her sisters as everyone else stares at her in shock. Even the Queen and V have gone still. The King is the first to move, his brows raising at her answer.

“Lie,” Rae says.

Thia blinks, floating uncertainly in the air. “I don’t understand.”

Bell hovers unsurely before drifting slightly closer to her. “It was a crescent moon with an arrow cutting across it.”

“Yes, I remember. . .but it was changed. You told me yourself, Cara,” Thia cries, turning to look at her sister who stares back in return.

Cara slowly shakes her head, face falling in despair. “I never told you it was changed. All the other guests had the correct markings.”

“I heard you, you were there upstairs before the ball began when the rest of the guests were set to arrive.”

“No, Thia,” she whispers, “I wasn’t.”

The King growls, gaze flickering between the two of them. “What incompetence brews here? Cara, did you tell Thia about any changes in markings?”

“No,” she replies, her voice growing thick.

“Truth,” Rae says.

“I swear that’s what I was told!” Thia yells. “I know my sister’s voice, we spoke near the alcove!”

“Lie.”

At Rae’s response, the King clenches his teeth, upper lip curling into a snarl. “Disgraceful,” he growls. “Tell us all you know about this supposed guest. Distinguishing features, markings, everything.”

Thia floats unsurely, her strands of hair meeting before twisting at the ends while she anxiously thinks. “They spoke quietly and it was hard to make out their form, they could shapeshift I think. I don’t know what type of creature they were. I’m so sorry I—I don’t remember much, it was dark upstairs and we barely spoke,” she says, her voice high-pitched.

A haunting silence fills the space as no one utters a word while the King remains harshly staring. “My son was almost murdered and you can’t recall anything useful. Very well,” he states and begins walking towards her. While his tone remains calm, it doesn’t stop the hairs at the back of your neck from rising with dread. “I have all the answers I need. In an attempt to hide your role in this, you tried to frame your sister and allowed a threat into our midst.”

“I’m not lying, please!” She begs, her head bobbing frantically until her hair is snatched by the King’s fist, holding her in place.

“You’ve outlived your usefulness. Your services will not be missed.” And then he throws her to the floor before lifting a booted foot. It smashes into her head, her skull crushing as chunks of brain and flesh spray across the ground. The grey stone darkens as blood paints the area.

Cara and her sisters scream out as everyone backs away. You lean into Lhaine, who grasps onto your arm tightly. Each of the three Faegel grimace, having been closest to the scene, stepping away while Mel flicks some gore off her clothes with a sneer. Kala winces, avoiding looking directly at what’s left of Thia as she tries keeping her gaze straight ahead. Behind Chef, you see that Ink is a puddle on the floor. Across the room, Dust is huddling close into the Queen’s embrace and you see V shut his eyes, wincing when Bell lets out an anguished wail.

“Was that necessary to do now and not after questioning the rest?” The Queen loudly asks above the noise, still caressing the side of Dust’s face.

“Silence!” The King bellows, the sound echoing around the room and the sisters’ cries instantly quiet though they don’t stop. Not bothering to turn and look at the Queen he continues, “An example needed to be made and a punishment to be fulfilled on a conspirator. Or do you not care that our son’s life was threatened?”

You watch her eyes change to black, void of any color as she glowers in return. A chill engulfs the room and you shiver at the sudden temperature drop. “You of all people should know the answer to that,” she spits. The temperature drops again to the point where your shuddering breaths appear in the air only to suddenly vanish as the cold dissipates, letting the heat return. “Miss, I want that damned carpet cleaned afterwards,” she demands.

A brief tremor runs through Miss, but she collects herself and bows. “It will be done right away.”

The King ignores them, merely wiping his bloody boot on the carpet before returning to glare at the group of servants. “Where’s the boy?” Ink disappears from behind Chef and reappears with a light pop at the front. He takes a small step back from the mess and bows. “We’re now under the impression that this unknown suspect possibly came from the library,” the King starts. “Were you there the entire night?”

“Yes, but I saw no one enter or leave. I’ve also talked with the figures and examined the painting multiple times, it wasn’t broken or forced,” Ink explains in a flurry of words.

“Truth,” Rae says, her face pinched in discomfort as she does her best to remain calm despite the carnage left front and center.

“Any other evidence?”

“Just this,” Ink responds and from his body pulls a strand of blonde hair before giving it to the King. “It was found near the passageway.”

The King smells it briefly and looks up. “Care to explain yourself, Bren?” Upon hearing her name, she visibly pales, her face going a slight shade of green as she’s called forward. “You’ve been with us for many years. Did you know the secrets of that painting and use it for some hidden motive?”

Bren shakes her head.

“Say it,” he orders.

Clearing her throat, she briefly glances at Thia’s remains before answering. “I do know the secrets, I’ve heard it before unintentionally, but there’s no hidden motive.”

“Lie,” Rae answers softly.

“Did you let someone in that night? Or are you the one we’re looking for? If we search your room will we find the weapon?” The King fires in rapid succession.

At his accusations, her trembling becomes more pronounced. “No, I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Truth.”

He approaches until he’s towering over her and grips her throat, lifting her into the air. “Do you know who the assassin is?”

“No!” She gasps.

Rae grunts then, clutching the sides of her head as she leans over. She’s stuck on her words, tongue unable to make any syllables. “L—l,” she begins, but seems incapable of finishing. Blood starts dripping from her nose, dropping to the ground and further coloring it. “Just tell the truth!” She groans.

“I am,” Bren strains, fingers clawing at the hand cutting off her air supply.

“I grow tired of your games,” he says. Putting her back down, he unsheathes a dagger from his hilt and positions it against her jugular while she struggles within his hold.

“No, I beg you, please!” She squawks, frantically writhing against him. Her nose grows sharper as she begins transforming, birdlike features appearing across her body.

Not again. Please, not another. You don’t stop to think twice when blood starts seeping from the cut that emerges on her skin. “She didn’t do it!” You yell.

Your sudden outburst draws the attention of everyone in the vicinity. Lhaine’s fingernails are etching deep into your skin, squeezing down to the bone of your forearm. V’s standing now, his eyes trained to his father who doesn’t move closer, only adjusting the aim of his dagger towards you. With a solid grip on Bren, he redirects his spewing rage to you. “What evidence do you have?” It’s a simple question, but his blade shines with promises of instant suffering should you answer incorrectly.

“I couldn’t see the shooter, but they were male. It happened too fast to notice anything else.”

“And you’re certain this information is factual?”

“Yes, the information is true.” You can’t feel your arm anymore, Lhaine’s grasp having cut off circulation to where the tips of your fingers are completely numb.

All eyes flit to Rae, who’s upright again and she visibly cowers from the sudden attention. Though she’s covered in sweat with blood trailing from her nose down to her lips, she wipes her face with her palms and clears her throat. “Truth,” she murmurs, shoulders heavy and without strength.

The King releases his vise-like grip on Bren and she collapses to the ground, talon fingers clutching her head as she faintly whimpers, gasping for air. “Anything else?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No, it was too dark and all I saw were shadows.”

“Truth.”

He hums, glaring at you with those menacing eyes. His upper curls as he regards you, gaze piercing directly through you before eventually returning his dagger to its hilt. “I see. In the meantime, any suspicious behavior will be reported to your superior. As for you,” he looks down at Bren still at his feet, “you will be under constant supervision by Miss or Chef. You will not leave the servants’ quarters unless you’re accompanied by either of the two. Punishment will result in you being held in the dungeon with your wings shredded. Understood?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she stutters, putting her forehead low to the ground before stumbling to her feet and stepping back into the group.

“Wretched creature,” he mutters before turning away. “Dismissed. And you three, clean up this mess at once,” he orders Cara and her sisters.

Hovering low to the ground, they use their hair to collect the remnants of Thia, picking up the scattered pieces of flesh and bone. You automatically start towards them, but are suddenly pulled away by Lhaine as everyone disperses. V’s eyes catch your own as you’re taken up the stairs, but you lose contact after turning the corner while Lhaine practically drags you to your room.

She shoves you inside, letting go and immediately slamming the door behind her. While she rests her head against the doorframe, you massage your arm as blood flow returns to your veins, the feeling of prickly pins and needles cascading across your skin. Inhaling deeply, she whips around to face you. “What was that?”

“What? I told the truth,” you scoff, shaking your arm to get rid of the tingling.

“Do you know how close you were to being executed? We were this close to wiping up both yours and the harpie’s blood off the stones,” she hisses, pinching her fingers together.

“I was careful with my words.”

Your insistence only exasperates her further as she furiously shakes her head, long hair whipping back and forth. “If he had decided to keep pressing, you would’ve lost in the end. He’s done interrogations for many centuries, you haven’t.”

“I had to say something,” you say incredulously.

“Why?”

“She was going to die! Doesn’t that bother you?” You ask, folding your arms across your waist, memories of blood and bone remaining persistent at the forefront of your mind.

Lhaine throws her hands in the air, facial expressions going through a myriad of emotions. “To be honest, not really. And no, it’s not because I dislike her. She needs to be taken down a peg, sure, but I don’t wish her dead. I don’t think she would’ve deserved it, but she’s hiding something,” she insists, pacing across your room.

You watch her for a moment as you sit at the edge of your bed. “No one else was going to do anything.”

She huffs a laugh. “Yes, because whatever happened back there was pretty damning. Even if someone else knew something they wouldn’t say anything because no one’s willing to risk their life.”

“Bren could still be innocent.”

“So? That’s not good enough to risk your own life for.” Her feet roughly stomp against the stone and she spins around once she reaches the wall.

You watch her go from one end to the other across your room while you clutch at your sheets. “Maybe for you and everyone else, but I had to at least try.”

“Again why? For the debt she owes you now? You don’t seem like the type to collect them.”

The pacing of her feet steadily increases until she’s speed walking around your room and you snatch her arm to hold her in place, insisting that she look at you. She does so reluctantly, midnight hair nearly hiding away her red irises. “Lhaine, one innocent person was already killed and another possibly innocent one too. It would’ve been cruel and...inhumane,” you helplessly finish.

She comes forward, leaning down to gently rest her hands on your shoulders. “That’s the thing. We’re not human. You care about others, but down here; it’s considered weak and naive. We don’t just willingly sacrifice ourselves for the sake of others.”

“Would you have stood by if I were in her position?” You fire back.

She glowers at you, biting the inside of her cheek. “I would have said something, anything, to try and help you. But I care about you. I’ve talked to Thia a few times, she’s quiet and polite. You already know my stance with Bren. I don’t feel anything for them. Not enough to risk my own head. It’s selfish, Y/N, but we’re also persevering. We do what we can to survive and do things that benefit ourselves with rare exceptions of bonds or close relationships.”

“Well I’m sorry that my human qualities aren’t acceptable here, I get it,” you say, desperately flailing your hands. “We’re in fucking Hell, it’s expected. I’m not a saint by any means, but when something’s not right and someone’s life depends on it, I have to try to say or do something.”

She looks away, dropping her head briefly before groaning quietly. “First of all, don’t apologize for being human. You basically come equipped with a moral compass unlike the rest of us down here. I’m not apologizing for being a demon even though my integrity is dubious at best and humans would probably exorcise me or whatever the fuck the moment they saw me. Who knows though,” she shrugs, “maybe your goodness will rub off on this place.”

“I’m not here to fix Hell and cure all evildoing.”

“It’d be stupid if you were,” she mutters. “No, but maybe you’ll end up passing on some of those good vibes or whatever to some of us.”

You pull your leg up to prop your foot against the side of the bed. She eases into the space next to you, keeping an arm around your shoulder while you silently rest your head on her own. “Maybe so. I just don’t want to see people getting murdered. That was an interrogation, execution, and torture session all in one,” you whimper. The crunching sound of bone still ricochets in your mind even though you’re trying to force yourself to focus on the present.

Lhaine holds you closer. “I know. The royal family is protective, paranoid, and furious about what happened, so they don’t care who gets hurt as long as they’re secure in the end.”

“The assassin needs to be found before more people die,” you mutter.

She barks a laugh. “Yeah, they do. But good luck chasing after them. They’re hidden well unless they’re long gone. Just be happy we’re alive.”

At least there’s that to consider, despite how morbid it is.

~*~

It’s only been a couple of days or so since that horrifying interrogation. Supposedly the family has started focusing on who all was at the ball and also could fit the description Thia gave before her…execution. What she described vaguely reminds you of the shadowy figure you saw from your old room all those nights ago. But they had been taller and for all you know could have also been another servant or guard whose job is keeping watch outside and just happened to be practicing their magic. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking on your part. Either way, you haven’t seen them since.

Sitting at your desk, you return to reading your book and looking at the drawings Jeon had given you. Opening the demon textbook, you unfold the artwork and examine them once more. The second one is still hard to distinguish what kind of setting it is because of the scrawling black lines, but when you tilt it beneath the light, you notice one of the rectangular shapes has something on top. The open book strikes a chord in your memory as you recognize your old bedroom in the servants’ quarters. Most of the colored areas cover the furniture, but it’s especially dark in one corner where an oddly shaped blob stands. It’s short, but the curve near the top of it resembles a person of some kind. Looking at where the head is, the light reveals three lines, two vertical and the one underneath horizontal, depicting eyes and a mouth.

Rubbing the back of your neck to get rid of the itchy sensation, you return to study the open book in the picture again and see a line drawn on the page. It’s not a decorative choice, considering it’s vertical and not horizontal. So is it the letter “i” or the number one? Could Jeon even be able to tell you? You can at least try.

You switch to his first drawing and examine it as well. No hidden figures seem to be there when putting it beneath the light, but when you trace your fingers across the back you feel indentations near the red dot. Quickly retrieving a blank sheet of paper, you use a pencil to scratch across it and reveal four sets of numbers. 9, 5, 18, 19. Again you stare at the picture, particularly focusing on the top part that’s colored in. Of course. Getting up from your seat, you snatch the papers and head out into the hallway only to be greeted by darkness. You didn’t even realize how late it had gotten, the clock in your room reading a quarter until midnight. He’s probably asleep and you don’t want to disturb him.

Just as you’re about to close your door, muffled cries sound from further down the hall. Peeking your head out, you see shadowy movement and your heart rate increases at the undulating person approaching. Before you’re about to slam the door shut, the dim light of the lamps reveal Bell’s head as she comes closer.

Her eyes are shut as she uses her long strands of hair to wipe away bloody tears. Sniffling once more, she opens her eyes and notices you in the doorframe, coming to a halt at the sight of you. “Excuse me, Ms. Y/N, I didn’t even detect your presence. I hope I didn’t disturb you,” she apologizes, quickly using more of her hair to effectively clean her face.

“No, you didn’t. I was going to go read anyway.”

“Oh. Well, I shall let you get back to your business,” she says, passing by your door to continue her rounds.

“Wait,” you tell her, reaching a hand out to somehow stop her and nearly grab a handful of her hair, awkwardly pausing as she turns to look back at you expectantly. “Do you need to talk about anything or is there any way I can help you?”

Bell does her best to replicate a calming smile, but the corners of her lips are trembling. “I’m fine, Y/N, you don’t need to worry about me,” she reassures, though there’s a quiver in her voice.

You hesitate, but don’t push further. “Okay, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I don’t mind listening.” Biting your lip, you continue, “I really am sorry for your loss,” you eventually say.

Fresh tears pool within her crimson orbs. “Your condolences are appreciated. Cara has been taking it especially hard.”

You nod, tossing your papers onto your desk before closing the door behind you. Bell cocks her head and you point behind you to the staircase. “I’m just going to get a glass of water from downstairs.”

“Please don’t assume I’m asking you for any obligations because I mentioned my sister. We’ll be alright in due time.”

“I know, but I need to go to the servants’ quarters anyway. Besides, I don’t usually get much sleep most nights.”

She nods. “I see. Then have a good rest of the night.”

“You too,” you tell her as she floats away from you and continues down the hall.

Going down the stairs, you walk to the kitchen and get a glass of water. Heading to the sink, you let out a small shriek upon finding Cara in the basin. Water splashes as she’s startled by your sudden appearance, only to relax again when she recognizes you.

“Hello, Y/N,” she greets as she settles down in place. She has a pot filled with water and is currently submerging her neck inside while her hair drapes across the counter.

“Hey, Cara,” you respond, pulling a stool up next to her. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m soaking,” she says.

“Looks comfortable,” you comment to which she nods in return. “Is that ice?”

“Yes. Figured I’d give myself a break.” A part of her hair reaches for the bowl of ice cubes and takes one, carrying it to her mouth where she eats it. The frozen cube slides around, puffing her cheeks every now and then as she sucks on it. “Were you here for some water?”

You nod and her hair reaches for your glass. You hand it to her and she turns the faucet head away from her spa setup to fill it before asking, “Would you like some?” She motions to the bowl.

“Um, sure, if that’s okay.” She uses more of her hair and they drop three cubes into your cup. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

After taking a gulp, you set your drink on the little section of the counter that doesn’t have her hair on it. “How long have you been here?”

Her hair lifts up before limply falling down in a makeshift shrug. “For the past half hour or so.”

“I’m guessing Bell doesn’t know.”

“No, not that it matters. Even if she did, what would she do? Tell on me so the King can step on my brains too?” She scoffs.

You wince at her heated words. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

She huffs and bites hard at the ice cube where it crunches loudly. “It’s not the first execution I’ve been a witness to.”

“No, but Thia,” you cringe as you prepare yourself to continue, “was your sister.”

“Not anymore,” she mutters. “And don’t feed me your hopeful condolences, I don’t want to hear it. She’s a memory, nothing more now.”

Her words strike a chord as you take in what she means. “She didn’t ascend yet, did she?”

Cara inhales, breath catching on a slight whimper as she sinks down, the water up to her chin. “No. She wasn’t even close.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, hand reaching out to touch the top of her head, hesitating as you pause there unsurely before caressing it softly. “Is there anything I can do to help, anything you need?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. Your company is more than enough.” Reaching to grasp a large handful of ice, she dumps the cubes into the pot and settles once more. You both fall into a quiet state, letting silence fill the space while you stand beside her as she continues floating in the water. Time passes as you take a sip from your glass every so often. “Tell me about your sister,” she abruptly says, causing you to jump from her sudden words while she shifts within the ice. “Please,” she quietly adds.

“Are you sure?” You hesitate. “I don’t want to accidentally upset you.”

Cara lets herself slide down until she’s lying flat and floating on the cool water. “It’s okay, I just need a distraction. I’ve accepted what happened, I’m just getting lost in my head and I don’t want to be.”

“I get it, it’s really easy to be overwhelmed by everything. And that’s okay. Just don’t keep those emotions locked in the back of your mind forever. When you’re comfortable or ready, try to make time so you can let those out before they become too much. Only when you’re ready though,” you insist and she nods, her head bobbing in her makeshift pool.

“But as for my sister, she’s funny. It’s not just her optimism that helps her cope with her illness, it’s also her sense of humor. Whenever she’d have to stay in the hospital, she’d rate the medicine they’d give her from pretty tasty I want more to awful, never again get rid of my taste buds. And she’d take it seriously too on deciding where she thought each medicine went. We even made a game of it. She’d rate the medicine and then compare it to something that tasted similar.”

“So what would the awful medicine be like?” Cara wonders.

You bite your lip as you think back to all the different ones. Each medicine she tried would somehow be worse and worse one right after the other. “Oh, there was one kind she said was way too sickly sweet, almost like artificially sweetened medicine and it apparently reminded her of fruit whiskey. So I actually went, after making her promise to stay because she insisted on sneaking out with me, and bought a small bottle of some peach whiskey, had a shot, and it wasn’t good. Maybe it was that specific type but I got an idea of what she meant,” you laugh, tongue recoiling upon remembering the overpowering alcohol that coated it.

“Would she do that a lot, sneak out?” Cara looks up at you, red eyes peering from in the water.

Clearing your throat, you scratch the side of your neck in chagrin. “Yeah, kind of. Our parents usually knew, she’d act like she had all her energy that day but we’d have to take a lot of breaks whenever we ventured out. One time she suddenly got really tired and the walk was pretty far so I rented an electric scooter, a little vehicle and rode it back home. People gave us odd looks when they saw younger me with my big sister practically slumped on top while I’m trying to drive normally. They probably thought she was drunk or hungover, which that’s how she felt in a way. Lightheaded and dizzy, but she was giggling about it the whole time.” You can’t help the smile that creeps up on your lips as you remember her trying to help steer but nearly sent you both careening into a stop sign.

“We did that too sometimes,” Cara says, breaking you free from your reminiscence, “my sisters and I. Bell didn’t always come because she insisted on keeping watch but there was one time we all went to Whimsy Waters, a pretty lake not too far from here, and we went looking for jaws. It’s a common place for jawbones to be discarded and if you find one with a severed tongue still inside, it can sing for you like a music box.” She grins while recalling the nostalgia of her memory yet you’re doing your best not to recoil, the glass in your hands shaking as you try keeping it steady. “Thia had managed to find one with a tongue and it sang so prettily. No words, just a lovely tune. She liked sneaking off to the rooftops and sing along with it, saying she’d pursue something in music after finishing her work here.”

Cara’s lip trembles as her eyes grow misty, bloody tears slipping from the corners. “She had a beautiful voice, we knew she could accomplish it. She would’ve.” A quiet sob escapes her and she cuts it off, using strands of hair to cover her mouth.

Your fingers run across the top of her head as she silently cries while you whisper soothing words to her. The two of you stay there with the melting ice bobbing in the pot as silence eventually returns to the somber atmosphere.

Eventually, she wipes away her tears and sits upright. “What time is it even?” She wonders.

A glance around the space soon has you locating the clock and checking the hands. “It’s just past one,” you inform her, and she shuts her eyes, tendrils of her hair rising to cover them. “Don’t worry, I don’t think anybody knows we’re down here anyway,” you try to reassure her. “I might head out soon though, there’s something I need to check on.”

She nods, strands of hair falling back into the water as she heaves a sigh. “I should probably go too. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time,” she apologizes and you’re quick to assure her.

“You’re completely fine, please, I don’t mind at all. I want to be here and help if you need me.”

“Still, what’s stopping me from staying here the rest of the night?” She muses, floating within her ice bath.

“Nothing actually,” you reply, “you’re free to grieve however you need to and for however long. But maybe you can continue your patrol before morning comes just so you don’t get in trouble. I know you're in pain, it’s understandable, just please be careful,” you plead. “Even if you think it doesn’t matter, your sisters still care about you. And so do I.”

She looks up at you, briefly dwelling in her thoughts for a moment. “Thank you. You also make a fair point, we can’t support each other if we’re dead,” she sighs. “At least we don’t have to exactly be presentable when on patrol, just alert.” Lifting herself out of the water, she dumps everything from the pot, the ice cubes clattering into the sink as she puts it back in the storage closet. “Don’t worry, they don’t use that pot for food. Plus, it’s not like I pee in it or anything,” she snorts and you chuckle softly. After wringing her hair out over the sink as well, you watch how she weaves the strands with ease until they’re tied into a simple bun that sits above her head.

Leaving the kitchen, the two of you go down the hall in silence, each lost in your own thoughts that you don’t even pay attention to where you’re heading until you pause in front of the wooden door. “I don’t know why I went this way, this isn’t my room anymore.”

“Ah, that’s why I haven’t seen you in some time. Where are you staying now?”

“Upstairs in one of the guest rooms.”

She smiles. “That’s great. I’m sure it’s much nicer compared to these rooms.”

“It is,” you agree.

“Shall we head that way?” She asks, tilting her chin to point in that direction.

You shake your head. “It’s okay, I kind of want to check and see if I accidentally left anything behind anyway.”

“I’ll leave you to it then.” She pauses, floating unsurely in the air. “I’m also grateful for the time you’ve spent with me tonight.”

“Me too, Cara. I enjoy talking with you,” you smile at her. She leaves and you watch her until she disappears around the corner before turning back to the door.

Taking a breath, you carefully open it and peek inside. The room is pitch black, curtains blocking all light from outside. You keep a close eye on the corner where you once thought you saw a shadowy figure as you go sit on the bed. Nothing happens while you listen and observe your surroundings, not a noise of any kind either inside or out. As if this room is truly empty. With each passing minute, you feel yourself relax and you try standing, but your legs refuse to move. A chill rushes through your body as you’re suddenly filled with exhaustion and as if by instinct you curl up into your former bed to lie down. The silence only eases your mind further while you become encapsulated by sleep.

When you wake, you find yourself in a much comfier position and you roll over, touching the silk sheets that cover your body. You rub your eyes and sit up, recognizing the purple décor of your room. The last thing you remember is lying down in the old one, but you must’ve gotten up to come back at some point. Getting to your feet, you stumble against the nightstand as you struggle to maintain balance. Stretching your body, you shake away the static sensation that layers above your skin and wait for your blood to circulate more before starting your morning.

After having showered and dressed, you fetch some breakfast for yourself and gather your things from last night, taking them to the library. Opening the door, you step inside and find yourself a table to set your things on. You scan the room for the blobbed figure, but he’s not on the ground floor and when you look up you see him hanging from one of the upper shelves, green mist wafting around him and the high rafters above.

Ink disappears and, despite hearing the distinct pop, you still jump when he suddenly stands in front of you. “You’re staring, what do you want?”

“Could you do me a favor?”

“Depends on the favor,” he scoffs.

“I need help finding a book.” He glances around the room and grabs a random book from the shelf beside him, holding it up to you. “Funny, but that’s not what I mean,” you say. It takes you a second to rifle through the sheets of paper until you hand him the note with the numbers. “Can you go to the ninth row and fifth column up there?” You ask, pointing to the bookshelf across from where he was earlier.

His white eyes blink up at you. “You do know you actually can’t read those, right? Maybe try some spooky bedtime stories from the children’s section instead,” he suggests, jerking his chin to the opposite end of the library.

“I think I have enough nightmares to last me a lifetime, but thanks for the recommendation,” you dryly answer.

Giving you another look, he shrugs and pops away. “Suit yourself,” you hear from above as he lands on the second floor and climbs up the shelves. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you when you start scratching at your eyes and make them bleed.” Scaling sideways, he counts each book until finding the one you need and then he jumps down, dissolving before he hits the ground abruptly reappearing in front of you. He tosses the book and you catch it, wincing when the weight causes your shoulder to twinge in protest. “Oops, sorry. Forgot about your injury. Are you still recovering?”

Hoisting the large tome on top of the table, you lean down to check the drawings again. “I’m fine and yes, us humans aren’t that durable. Actually, I was hoping you could help me with reading it.”

“Look I’m not that sorry,” he says, turning around and walking to a cart with books haphazardly scattered across.

“I only need two pages.” Or so you hope, you think to yourself as you follow after him.

Waving you off with a flick of his hand, he mutters, “I’m busy.”

“Please?” You beg, standing beside the cart as his eyes scan across a paper full of notes, a catalog of some sort. “Maybe I can give you something in return.”

“Your hand?” He wonders.

Even though you know he’s being sarcastic, you instinctively pull your hand closer to yourself. “Preferably none of my body parts.”

Ink sighs loudly as he grabs a book and shoves it into an empty slot on the bookcase. “I didn’t mean permanently. Help me put these books on the shelf while I clear space and I’ll tell you what’s there.”

“Deal.”

At least you can tell Kala you got some decent exercise in today. Thankfully, the books aren’t that big and you use your uninjured arm to do most of the work. When you’re done, you both go sit down and he thumbs through the pages until stopping at the one you need.

Ink tilts the book away so you can’t see anything, but you think you catch a picture from your peripherals, resisting the urge to look. “So this book that you need for some reason is about elixirs and potions. The strong stuff that not anyone can just get.”

“What’s the name of that one?” You ask, pencil poised above your notes and ready to begin writing.

“Belegur, a potion used for curing possessions.”

Your pencil freezes in the middle of writing the name as you look up at him. “Curing possessions?” You breathe.

His face scrunches in confusion at your surprise. “Yeah, what are you possessed or something?”

Swallowing thickly, you shake your head. “No, it’s for someone else. What else does it say?”

He looks down to scan the page and then looks up. “There’s a description followed by a recipe and instructions.”

Your pencil taps the paper, tiny dots of granite decorating the sheet. “Can you start from the top?”

He shuts the book, marking the page with his finger in between. “Uh, that wasn’t part of our deal. You want more, then I want something in return.”

“Fine, what do you want?” You ask impatiently.

“I want something sweet from the kitchen,” he says.

“Sure thing, but I want this first.” You point your pencil at the book.

He eyes you dubiously before eventually sighing dramatically. “Fine. Just know that I’ll make you read this book from beginning to end until your eyes turn to pulp if you don’t keep your end of the bargain,” he threatens.

“I’ll take your word for it,” you laugh whilst rolling your eyes, knowing he’s probably at least half serious. You snatch the pencil and begin scribbling down his words in a flurry.

Combine all ingredients at once. Need to be mixed thoroughly in a boiling vessel. Once complete, the possessed subject must consume the entire potion and the creature will be purged.

-500mL of Blood from Enactor

-Tears of Remorse

-Dew Petals from Corpse Blossom (Calamity Caverns)

-Holy Water

-Purging Fluid (Numbing Fields)

-Sickly Sweet Apple (Scorching Dunes)

Keep Belegur in black crystalline vial until ready to drink

“Do you know where I could find the rest?”

“You have to find someone that’s actually sorry for their sins, which might not be too hard. Good luck with the holy water though. Unless you plan on visiting Heaven too,” Ink snickers.

Perhaps you’ll be lucky and find a secret passage or portal that leads up there, yet you doubt it would be that easy. “I’m not planning on it anytime soon. Of course, the change in scenery would be nice,” you say, scribbling down a few more notes before standing. “Let me get you that snack you were asking for. What’s it look like?”

“Oh yeah, it’s a chocopuff. It’s just a little ball of chocolate and cream that’s at the top of the pantry. Don’t let Chef catch you though because she’ll be pissed.”

No surprise there either. “And probably cut my hands off with her cleaver, which would really suck,” you laugh.

“Yeah, cause then I’d lose the extra help from you when you’d want random favors,” he snorts to himself yet his smile is wide, white eyes gleaming.

Getting to the pantry isn’t an issue thankfully as Chef focuses only on her cooking, but sneaking the rather large ball of sugar took some precise timing whenever she’d abruptly turn for an ingredient. So you wrap the treat in a napkin and do your best not to run back to the library, desperately hoping Miss doesn’t happen to be lurking around the corridors. Once you’re shoving yourself through the mahogany doors, you quickly shut them and scurry to where Ink is standing in the alcove.

“Here’s your treat as requested,” you tell him, but he merely glances at you before returning his focus to the books he’s searching through.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t ask for anything,” he mutters.

Your brows furrow while he nonchalantly continues working. His change in demeanor has you carefully peeking around only to find that you two aren’t alone, noticing a seated figure hidden within the shadows of the alcove. You bow hastily, crossing your arms behind your back in a poor attempt to hide the snack. “Good morning, V, I mean, Your Highness,” you practically shout, voice raising at the end of your sentence.

“Could you make it any more obvious?” Ink grumbles under his breath. “This is the last in the series, Your Highness,” he explains, setting the heavy tomes on the table before him.

“Thank you,” V says before greeting you with a faint smirk. “Good morning, Ms. Y/N.”

Ink steps by you and snatches the treat from behind your back, seemingly eating it in one bite. “Don’t be formal on my account,” you hear him mutter though half the words are garbled as he chews.

You stiffen at his words, wondering if he knows that the prince can both hear and visibly see him chewing as he walks away.

“I’ll have to remember that next time,” V tells him and the boy ducks his head, using his hand to cover his mouth. He shakes his head. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. She’s training to become a master thief anyway,” he chuckles while retrieving the brown book on top and starts sifting through the pages.

“Desperate times, desperate measures,” you say.

“You’ve proven to have good reason before,” he notes, giving you a knowing look and he doesn’t hide the humor evident in his irises.

He won’t be letting you live your attempted escapade down anytime soon. Leaning against the bookshelf, you cross your arms as you regard him. “I’m glad you see it like that. So what brings you here this morning?”

“I’m waiting on the others to get here actually,” he explains, still combing through the text. “We’re discussing how to search for this assassin while throwing in some politics as well.”

You glance back at the doors, half expecting them to suddenly show up at the mere mention. “Your friends are still here?”

“They want to help considering I was almost killed and no one’s been caught.”

His words draw your attention back to him again, reawakening the bloody nightmare from that night. As you do, you take note of the faint lines of exhaustion still remaining just below his eyes that have a slight tinge of red to them. “How’ve you been doing with all this? Trying to manage a kingdom while an attempted murderer is after you seems overwhelming.”

V shakes his head, apparently unfazed by the issue. “It’s nothing new. We’ve had one other attempt a decade or two ago, but they were disposed of not too long after. A sword cut through my father’s chest as he slept one night and it somehow missed his organs. He recovered fairly quickly in a few days,” he says, nonchalantly marking the page in the book he’s currently holding before setting it aside to grab another one as he begins doing the same as before.

Confusion sweeps across your face because that surely seems counterintuitive. “But isn’t he immortal and unable to die?” You question.

He nods, his lips barely quirking upwards. “Yes, but if one can do enough damage to an immortal, recovery is tedious and can be quite a process.”

“I’d still be afraid to sleep after that,” you shudder.

He shrugs with a slight tilt of his head. “After a while it gets easier, though it’s been hard these last couple of nights,” he admits.

Propping your arm against the sturdy wood, you rest your head on your fist, studying him carefully. “How come?”

V sighs, going silent for a moment as he parses for whatever information he needs until eventually answering in a low tone. “Thia was the one to patrol our section of the castle at night. I never talked to her, only in passing actually, but even though I never heard her, I knew she was there. Since her. . .death, Bell has been the one to patrol both her and her sister’s sectors from now on. She does it, but it’s been difficult for her.” His fingers catch on the pages a few times before he relents to using his nails to pry the thin paper apart as he finally turns it.

You wince, recalling your own encounter with Cara earlier. How do people manage to stay sane in this place? “I can only imagine. Especially after witnessing it herself.”

His shoulders hunch ever so slightly as he sets the book aside, eyes focused on the stone flooring. He doesn’t say anything for a moment before eventually breathing a quiet sigh, one that sounds prolonged with age. “Yes, my father reacted too quickly. He doesn’t accept mistakes as proper excuses.”

“I’ve noticed.” There’s an edge in your voice that doesn’t go unseen, the prince grimacing as his eyes zero in on your arms as you both remember your clumsy mistake that led to those circumstances. Your fingers gently tap against one of the shelves as you glance down. “Bell is doing her best to manage, and so is Cara. I haven’t talked to Hiss though. I just hope they’re okay.”

Nodding somberly, he slumps against the sofa with his back heavily hitting the velvet cushion. “Yes, I hope the same.”

There’s a bout of silence as you withdraw into your thoughts before clearing your throat. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” He wonders, breaking free from his own thoughts.

You go to your table and retrieve the book, keeping your line of sight away as you open it to the correct page. “Have you heard of this before?” You show him the picture of the potion you need.

“Belegur? How did you come across this?” He takes the book from you, skimming the text before turning the page.

“I figured it out through one of Jeon’s drawings. He had coordinates leading to this specific potion.”

His head jerks up, brows rising as well as he regards you incredulously. “Congratulations on solving one of his riddles. Those aren’t easy by any means. You think this potion will cure your sister?” He inquires, tapping on the sheet.

You nod. “If what Ink read is true, I think this is what she needs.”

“How do you plan on getting it to her?”

The question briefly halts the rising seed of hope that grows within you but you toss the doubts aside. “Well, after I get the ingredients for it I’m hoping there’ll be a portal or something that can take me home.”

V cocks his head to the side, propping his chin on his knuckles. “And how are you getting said ingredients?”

You hesitate, shifting uncomfortably on your feet as you smooth your sweaty palms on your clothes. “Well, if it’s not too much to ask, I was hoping you could take me or at least give me permission to go,” you mutter.

He stares at you, facial expression not shifting in the slightest as he says, “you don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I do actually,” you fire back.

“Oh really?” He scoffs, brown eyes alight with incredulity. “Because I can assure you the journey isn’t as simple as it sounds. It would take at least a day or two just to get to every realm.”

“I’d find a way.”

“Yes, I know you would,” he affirms, raking a hand through his blond strands of hair and effectively leaving them ruffled awry. “And while I respect your determination, it would only lead to your death.” He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he regards you before sighing roughly. “You won’t take no for an answer,” he concludes. “I made a promise to help you, so I can fetch these ingredients instead.”

Your back stiffens ramrod straight in response. “I need to go with you,” you firmly answer.

“Why?”

“Because this is my problem so I should be trying to fix it.”

He shakes his head, mouth twitching in an attempt to keep from smiling. “These aren’t just places with tortured souls wandering about. All sorts of monsters roam in these areas, each with their own disturbed capabilities to kill.”

Rolling your shoulders, you try keeping your irritation at bay as you feel your fists tighten. “Look, I know I don’t know how to fight and even if I trained nonstop before leaving, my combat skills would be subpar at best. I can’t fight, but I’d do whatever I could to help. Use me as bait if you have to, but I’m going with you one way or another,” you seethe, your jaw clenching as you grit your teeth together and drop your hands on the table separating the two of you.

His eyes flash up to meet yours as though carefully searching for something. V eases to a stand and replicates your position, knuckles pressing firmly against the aged wood as his face hovers just before you. For a moment, you’re temporarily distracted by his close proximity and how close you can admire his features. The slight curl of his long lashes all the way to the cute mole at the tip of his nose. Ridding those thoughts away with a quick blink, you notice he’s still staring though there’s a slight smirk now playing on his lips.

“I’ll consider it,” he murmurs.

Your muscles relax as you sigh and relax your posture. “Thank you,” you breathe, willing to be appeased with that for now because at least it’s something.

“You’re welcome, Y/N. I’m not disregarding your demands, I just want to err on the side of caution,” he explains, still quietly observing you.

“I know.” When the double doors open with a groan you start collecting your things. “I should go. Also I don’t know if you’re aware or not,” you say, tossing a green notebook from one of the side tables on top of your stack, “but the prisoners need a break. I don’t think they should be punished if they haven’t done anything wrong.”

V blinks before realization dawns as his facial expression drops disappointedly. “I don’t know the whole situation about that, but I can attempt reasoning with my father who surely had a hand in it,” he sighs, massaging the side of his neck.

“Thanks.” You bow to him and head towards the doors, seeing his friends at the entrance. A majority of them simply nod in acknowledgement at you, though Min lightly pats your arm in passing.

RM who’s picking up the rear, lingers as you approach. “Ms. Y/N, I hope you’ve been well.”

“Yes sir, thank you.” You bow to him and Jeon. “And thank you, Jeon, for the drawing. It was very useful.”

He gives a short nod. “Glad I could help,” he quietly answers, his eyes focused on the floor.

Bowing once more, you walk passed and go to set your things down in your room before heading downstairs. Now that Ink has told you the ingredients, it won’t hurt to start searching for clues on how to find some of them since there’s no telling when V will be able to take you on your journey through Hell. And you might as well start with the person who seems to know everything. The metal door grinds as it opens, signaling your arrival and you head to the cells, where familiar black hair is sticking through the bars. You set the full bucket down, slipping the cans in between and rolling them across the dusty floor.

Hakyeon’s bare back rests against the gate and you put the gruel beside him. “I brought you some food,” you whisper to him.

Snorting in response, he lifts his shoulders for a mere second before sagging back down. “Oh joy. More scrumptious things to eat.”

“There’s more actually.”

“What? A slice of bread?” He sarcastically rejoices.

“Not exactly,” you say, holding up the green book next to him. That gets his attention as he reaches for it, but you hold it back, afraid of losing your upper hand and a wave of guilt washes over you until you tamp it down. “Can I ask you some questions first?”

“It’s not like I have a choice,” he mumbles, grabbing the can and turning around to fully face you where you let out a gasp.

Since you saw him last, he’s acquired more bruises and scratches, most of his face mottled with an array of discoloration. His left eye is marked purple from a recent welt and cuts are scattered about his jaw as well as his lips.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “But I think I might’ve been able to put a stop to the interrogations.”

He rolls his eyes before silently wincing from the movement. “That’s nice. The entertainment was growing a bit repetitive towards the end.” He cracks open his can and drinks. “So what do you want?”

Crouching down, you get comfortable as you sit on the scathed floor. “You said before that you didn’t know there was a shooter. Does that mean you knew there was a possible assassin?”

Hakyeon takes another gulp, then rests the cool can against the side of his face. “Something like that.”

“But how? And why didn’t you say anything?”

“Don’t be so judgemental. There were plenty of people in attendance that night, I thought the rumors pertained to a certain. . .acquaintance of mine. Shame, really.” He rests his face on the bars. “The others have been talking, getting restless,” he mutters, jerking his head towards the group huddled in the back corner. “It’s mostly nonsense, but something’s been riling them up.”

“Because of something here in the castle?”

He shakes his head. “No, from outside. From the forest, I presume.”

Again with that damned forest. You sigh before shaking your head. “One more question, where can I find holy water?”

The demon blinks once and blankly stares. “Do I look like an angel to you?”

You roll your own eyes in return with a huff. “No, but you don’t need to be an angel to get holy water.”

“True, but you need to know one to get it down here. And we’re not exactly on friendly terms with them,” he loudly whispers.

Rolling your eyes once more is tempting but you resist, otherwise they’d surely get stuck from doing it so often. “So how would one get it here?”

“By someone being able to provide strong evidence of wrongdoing that could disrupt the balance. It’s rare but not impossible. Or just impede on their chorus rehearsal and praying sessions.”

“Isn’t chaos and wrongdoing kind of what goes on down here all the time?”

He half-heartedly shrugs. “More so like setting monsters loose from hell or breaking down the gates of Heaven. Planning an uprising, taking over earth, etcetera, etcetera. And don’t give me that look. Yes, it’s quite calm down here, but it usually just stays here. Nothing too extreme that would worry angels.”

That catches your attention as you lean closer towards the cell, watching his omniscient crimson eyes which normally glimmer with unconcealed entertainment yet now reflect far more caution than usual. “So something big is happening?”

“Apparently, if you have something with access to holy water that’s trying to assassinate your prince.”

“He’s not my prince,” is your immediate retort.

The demon stares you down, brow arching in return. “Isn’t he? You serve him, do you not?” He affirms, lips poking out in a faux pout.

Gripping the iron bars in agitation, you give him a firm glare. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” He fires back.

You sigh, resisting the urge to bang your head against the cell bars. “Whatever. Are you actually implying someone is trying to assassinate him to prevent him from planning an uprising?”

Another casual shrug.

That doesn’t sound right. So far V hasn’t hinted at engaging in any violence let alone a war. “Why would he do that?”

He turns his palms upwards. “Power. Notoriety. Take your pick.”

You’re quick to shake your head. “That’s not him,” you deny.

“Well someone seems to think so. Besides, he's a prince. Both royals and politicians get killed off all the time. And it’s not always done inconspicuously either.”

“I guess that shouldn’t be surprising. Morality isn’t exactly taken into consideration here,” is your dry retort.

“Not even a bit, my darling,” he confirms with a grin.

You chew the inside of your cheek, mulling over this new information. “Thanks for the help,” you say, slipping the book through the bars.

“Of course. This interrogation is much more pleasant, especially with the added incentive,” he says, indicating towards his gift. “Are you taking your leave now?”

“I am,” you say, climbing to your knees and pulling yourself up. “I’ll come visit again soon hopefully.”

“Excellent. I wish you good luck on your endeavors.” Hakyeon manages a true smile, the first you’ve seen in a while.

You faintly manage one in return before leaving, heading up the steps and into the hallway. As you turn down one of the corridors, you hear quiet sobs coming from nearby. Peeking around the corner, you find Bren heavily leaning against a table. Though her back is to you, her tremors aren’t hard to miss. With her elbows bearing most of her weight on the tabletop, her legs barely keep her upright while her face remains hidden in the palms of her hands.

Stepping forward, you slightly clear your throat before quietly calling her name. She abruptly stills, not even breathing for several seconds until only her neck twists in your direction. Her eyes narrow, though the glare she inflicts towards you doesn’t hold its usual hatred, her blue eyes drained of any emotion.

“What?” She demands. “Do you want me on my knees thanking you for sparing my life? Or are you here to collect the favor I now inevitably owe you?”

You shake your head. “No, I was just passing through. I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Heh,” she breathes. “As if.” She puts her hands on the table as she leans forward. Walking by her carefully, her head lifts and both your eyes meet in the mirror fixed onto the wall. “Is it true that the assassin is a male?”

“I don’t know,” you quietly admit, afraid to even say it out loud.

There’s a flash of surprise before she sneers in fury. “Then why did you say it?”

You’re not expecting any form of gratitude but her hostility has you bristling in return. “Because I’m tired of all this death! And even though you may hate me for whatever reason, I don’t think you should die when there’s no proof.”

Standing up straight, she turns around and props her hip against the side of the table. “Stupid human, pretending to be some godsend heroine will get you nowhere,” she hisses.

With your fists tensing in response, your jaw clenches as you resist angrily snapping at her, refusing to give her a reason to do something conniving. “I’m not trying to be anything,” you grind through your teeth.

“No, you’re just trying to impress the prince since he’s infatuated with you for some reason.” Her fingers fiddle with the black ribbon tied around her neck, tugging the fabric lightly.

“You’re wrong,” you snap.

Bren scoffs in disbelief. “Oh, please everyone can pretty much see it. It’s so pathetic,” she mutters with a disgusted grimace before it’s replaced with indifference. “Let me just remind you that he will be mine soon.” Her tone is hard yet beneath the determination within her words, there’s a faint quiver.

“That’s fine.” Your words remain neutral though the same can’t be said for your heart as it twinges slightly upon hearing your answer. It doesn’t matter. If ignoring any form of romance or companionship keeps you alive longer and helps you save your sister in the end, then the price means nothing.

She eyes you for another moment, disdain evident on her features before she wipes away her tears and storms off leaving you alone in the corridor.

— — —

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A/N: Finally, it’s here! Though it took much longer than intended or anticipated, I’d rather have waited and ensured that my headspace was better as well as worked on my writing until it was to a point where I’m happy with posting rather than trying to force it out. Thank you for patiently waiting, I really appreciate it. Much love!

#v scenarios #taehyung scenarios #bts scenarios #bts imagines #v #bts #demon!v #my writing #To Hell and Back #*throws it into the void and scurries away*

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