marlowemuses | I'm allied to the winter, but don't you get clever

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I'm allied to the winter, but don't you get clever

The demon realms are vast and subterranean, a realm of endless night. Magic lays thickly through the realms, seeping down from the resentful dead in the mortal world above and rising up from the depthless chasms below, that endless dark from which no one has ever returned.

The inhabitants are fewer than most humans believe, and most of them care only for their own hunger and desperation. In the death forests and murky swamps of the realm await many monsters who desire only prey, and who store up resentful energy for centuries in order to get their chance to burst into the human world and feast. Those few inhabitants who are more sentient are petty creatures, too driven to by their desperation to survive and perhaps, one day, escape. Rifts between the worlds are rare, and usually one-way except for the great old monsters who can store up vast quantities of resentful energy.

This is the world that Wei Wuxian has tamed.

Once, he was a human from the world above. The rifts between worlds opened for him and cast him here. He does not know why, and he does not care. The world above discarded him. He has no further interest in it.

With will and determination, this place can be shaped. Instead of storing up all the resentful energy he can in order to bridge the worlds, he uses it liberally to craft a palace for himself. He coaxes the lesser demons into cooperation, and because he does not ask for any share of their resentful energy pools, they are willing to aid him in his strange habits of building houses and growing crops. He spends the energy to plant the seeds, and the demons who have come to obey him help to tend the strange, broad-leafed plants that grow.

He has no idea how long he has been here. His palace pleases him, his servants obey him in all things that do not cost resentful energy, and the inventions he has created draw in resentful energy in fountains, enough to guarantee him a wide array of loyal allies. Years have passed, he suspects, and perhaps centuries will pass in this manner. He does not want for more. There is nothing more to want, as far as he knows.

“My lord, a captive.” His servant bows to them. Most of them were humans, too, long ago. This place has warped them as it has warped him—his eyes glow red and a pair of curling horns grows from his head, along with the black claws that tip each of his fingers—but most still remember their lost humanity, which separates them from the ravenous monsters who lurk throughout the realms. Wei Wuxian suspects that even the monsters were once humans. Over the course of centuries, they will all become warped beyond recognition.

He does what he can to protect his people for a little longer, and to help cling on to their humanity. Their best defense is in cooperation, and because of this his scouts bring in any wanderers they find, anyone still recognizable as human.

The one before him is clearly a new arrival. No hint of demonic energy warps the serene beauty of his features, and Wei Wuxian has never seen one such as him in this place. He might be an immortal, even a celestial being, but he has fallen here, and he will be helplessly weak until he learns to use the demonic and resentful energies to warp this world to his will. Cultivator magic does not work here.

“Bring him food,” Wei Wuxian commands, approaching to gaze down upon his newest subject. “You look like you got lost. This is the demon realm. How badly did you fuck up in order to come here?”

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His pet bursts into action again, and Wei Ying stops playing to watch, curious about what's happening. He watches the music notation curiously as it appears across the page, and starts to play as the notation takes shape, testing it out.

He's heard this song somewhere before, and after the first few bars he no longer needs to look at the page. Playing from instinct, he lets the music flow through him, enjoying the sweetness and yearning in the song. That mournful longing appeals to him and he smiles a tiny bit, letting himself get lost in the music.

The music page falls from his grip, fluttering to the floor. Then he stretches out his fingers, tracing over Wei Ying's horns, touching his hair, his face and his shoulders. This feels indulgent and Lan Zhan averts his gaze, his cheeks pinking.

Why is this demon lord so familiar? Why does he feel so much for him? The music hurts him too and he grips Wei Ying's sleeve, his head tilting sadly to the side.

When Lan Zhan starts touching him again, Wei Ying stops playing. He lets the flute fall to the side, and reaches for the leash again, keeping Lan Zhan close.

Wei Ying's expression is calm and cold as he studies his captive, letting him touch however he wants. No one has ever touched him like this, as far as he can remember, and there doesn't seem to be anything hostile in it.

"Come on, Lan Wangji," he says, giving the leash a gentle tug. "Let's put you to bed."

The callous reception bothers him greatly and he meets Wei Ying's gaze, stubborn and heated. His jaw is set and he doesn't move an inch at the tug.

"I'm not tired." but that is a clear lie. Falling into another realm, searching endlessly for Wei Ying has obviously exhausted him. Yet something tells him he won't be able to sleep.

"Do you like the song?"

“It’s fine,” Wei Ying pulls a face. He’s a little bit impressed despite himself at how solid this captive is, even now. Tired, drunk, but still not moving an inch. “You’re so bossy for a prisoner.”

He tightens his grip on the leash a little more, still to no avail.

Giving up suddenly, he drops the leash and walks out of the room, taking the flute with him and heading for a particular guest bedroom he has in mind. He expects his prisoner to follow rather than roaming through the palace, but if his gamble is wrong he’ll just come up with another plan.

Edited 2020-02-10 03:14 (UTC)

"I belong to you." he murmurs - it's a fact; like the trees turning green in spring or snow falling in the winter, "I am not your prisoner."

Lan Zhan stiffens himself, immovable. However when Wei Ying moves away, he suddenly feels cold. A shiver runs through him and he sweeps the leash out of the way with one hand, striding to follow him. He is like a shadow on the demon lord's heels - or like a bothersome speck of light that cannot be shaken or lost.

"What is this...?"

Wei Wuxian is deeply confused by all this. His prisoner belongs to him, but isn’t a captive. Some song that he insists on having Wei Wuxian play.

At least he’s right in his guess that Lan Zhan will not let himself be left behind.

Entering the guest room, which is opulent and large, dressed entirely in red and black fabric, Wei Wuxian waves a hand at it. “This is your guest room. Aren’t I a generous master?”

To one side, behind a beautifully carved screen wall, is an enormous basin carved from black stone. Wei Ying waves his hand, and steaming water begins to pour from a spout above the basin, filling the bath.

The red and black call to him and he walks slowly around the room, touching first one color and then the other. The sound of water causes him to turn and he glances at Wei Ying before looking down at his robes. He does feel dirty.

Tugging on the ties, he loosens them one by one and removes his clothes. He then reaches up to loosen his hair, delicately removing the silver ornaments. Then he climbs into the water and sits down, immediately beginning to scrub himself.

Wei Ying sits on the side of the tub, one leg bent up and the other dangling, as he watches Lan Zhan undress.

"Come here," he commands, though it's not much of a command. He rises to meet his captive, already reaching for his collar so that he can remove it for the bath.

His fingers flick at the discarded clothing, removing all sweat and grime and incinerating it with a clench of his fingers, leaving the clothes fresh and flawless. Power comes so easily to him in this place, though it has such limitations. Resentful energy creates and modifies things at a whim, but he cannot summon either meat or liquor. The taint of resentment lingers on everything he creates, but to taste it evokes a very particular kind of horror. Demonic energy grows his crops and warms his halls, but its applications are relatively few in comparison to the easy, showy resentful energy that built his palace.

He watches as Lan Zhan scrubs himself. He's beautiful, especially with his hair loose like this. Wei Ying wants to touch, so he reaches out and combs his fingers gently through that dark hair, admiring.

This guest room has not been used before, and while it looks very usable, it lacks practical essentials like soap. Wei Wuxian supplies it with another flick of his fingers, and reaches for the slick black gel that he uses as shampoo. It's unsettlingly slimy, but it leaves his hair soft and shining, so he can overlook the eeriness of it. "Wet your hair," he murmurs.

He is seemingly unfazed that he has company while he bathes. Usually he would be much shyer. Especially since this is Wei Ying. The fear that he might reveal too much isn't a fear at all. It seems natural that this demon lord should know.

The loosening of the collar has him sighing and he glances up from his scrubbing to watch his clothes "cleaned". The energy used to do it would normally make him reject the fabric, however he can't be picky here. If he rejects those clothes, Wei Ying either provides others - with similar dark energies attached to them - or he walks around nude. He would be cold in a castle like this if he took that route.

Lan Zhan peeks up at his host when he feels the fingers in his hair. The desire to return the favor is so strong that he lifts a hand out of the water. Only to realize that, of course, it's wet. He shouldn't get him wet.

Instead he picks up the provided soap and sniffs it.

"Mm?" the request is fulfilled without hesitation. He dips his head back into the water, soaking his long hair before he sits up again.

"What is justice to you?" he asks the question slowly, "Does it exist?"

"Justice for what?" Wei Wuxian slides his slick hands into Lan Zhan's hair, gently massaging the cleansing gel into his scalp. "There's no point to such things here. Either someone cooperates with me and we work together to keep this sanctuary, or they go out into the wastelands and fight for survival. I don't know of other sanctuaries like mine, but I don't know how large the demon realms are. If there are other tribes out there, they are unreachably far beyond too many powerful monsters."

His hands are gentle and steady as he massages. This isn't something he's ever done for another person, but it feels natural now. Lan Zhan belongs to him.

"If you gather up enough resentful energy, there's a possibility that you can tear open the fabric between the realms and escape. That's why you'll sometimes see demons like me who have emerged into your realm. But there are enormous monsters out in the wastes who also gather up resentful energy, and their most powerful source of it is from the tainted humans like myself and the others. They feast hungrily. Sometimes they rampage. Twice I've turned back savage attacks from things too horrible to describe."

He takes his hand away and rinses his fingers. "Rinse."

"Those who can't fight. Against those who should know better." Lan Zhan relaxes under the massage, his eyes closing as he listens to the demon lord's beautiful voice. He feels like he could listen to him all day and all night and never tire of him.

"I lost someone." he admits, "I think he was like you."

Someone who would fight monsters and build havens. Someone who wasn't afraid to stand up for what he thought was right. Someone who desperately needed him when he was elsewhere.

Lan Zhan stares at the hand that had once held onto Wei Ying over the gaping chasm.

"I failed him." in a thousand ways. Lowering the hand, he nods at the command and dips his head back into the water, letting the suds drift away from the dark strands of his hair. He stays there, on his back, frowning pensively.

"I don't think you are as tainted as them."

Why would he be so kind? Yes, he was cold in demeanor, but his hands are soft.

"What?" Wei Wuxian is amused because his pet is so obviously wrong. He caresses a hand over Lan Zhan's shoulder, but the soft brush of his fingertips then tilts into the sharp scrape of his black claws. "Aren't these enough to convince you otherwise?" A single clawtip hooks against the tender nub of Lan Wangji's nipple.

"We all gather resentful energy here. It happens naturally. I wonder what you'll look like in a decade, when it reshapes your body like mine."

He draws his hand away and stands. "You can even spend it as lavishly as I do. Build a palace of your own, fill it with luxuries. But if you do, you'll never have enough to cast the spell to escape this place."

As he sits up again, he draws his hair over his shoulder, ringing the water from it. The claws make him twitch and he sucks in a soft breath.

"They were created by the same energy that gives the monsters their strength." he is unaware that as he speaks, the scars on his back are clearly visible - long lines that suggest he was beaten severely, "That does not make you a monster."

The heart can be warped, yet a human is human and what he sees in this castle is not evil or malicious.

"You wish to escape." it's not a question; he can sense the regret, "I can help."

"I don't wish to escape," the Yiling Patriarch corrects him. He does glance back, however, pausing with surprise as he sees the severe scars. His pet is such a strange and complex mystery, overlapping layers of a puzzle.

"Why would I? What awaits me in that world up there? Why should I risk becoming one of those monsters for the chance to return to your human world? It is hardly as though I would fit in, looking as I do."

His mouth opens and closes. The answer that springs immediately to his mind is complicated and he isn't sure he will be able to phrase it right. However if he doesn't try, things will worsen.

"Love." he states quietly, certainly, "With the return of your humanity, the claws and horns would fade."

He imagines taking this demon lord to a quiet place. By a river or a stream.

"Love," the Yiling Patriarch repeats, with a disdainful little laugh. He feels cold and scared, but he compensates for that by making himself hard. It is the only thing he can do.

Coming back over to sit on the edge of the tub, he caresses his pet's chest with a swirl of light claws. The gesture is almost a tender mime of the gesture it would take him to tear out Lan Wangji's heart with those claws.

"I remind you of this man you lost, so you imagine that you can save me with love how you failed to save him. How faithless. And when you lose me, who will be your next comfort, your next project?"

Rising, he turns his back and picks up the collar, letting it dangle from one finger. The only path forward that he's offering. "Come on, then."

The caresses awaken his longing and he presses his lips tightly together to keep himself quiet. Yes. Love. Lan Zhan places his hands on the side of the tub and pushes himself up. Once he is standing, he steps out of the tub, water rolling down his skin.

"I am not."

Faithless. Nor is he looking for comfort where none exists. He walks to the demon lord and tips his head back, baring his neck for the collar.

"I will not lose you." his eyes narrow, "I don't belong to many; I belong to one."

The one he allows to collar and chain him. The one he allows to see him nude.

The Yiling Patriarch looks over at him, surprised and intrigued. His gaze dips briefly, brow lifting as he takes in the full sight of his captive's impressive nudity.

"I'm not a replacement," he says. It's partly a question. He wants to make sure he has this right. "You really think I'm him."

That intent stare focused on him is really something. The Yiling Patriarch's lips part halfway, but he can't quite form words when he's being stared at so intently, like he's the only thing in the world that matters.

"Okay, okay, stop your glowering." Wei Wuxian pouts, cheeks pink, as he loses the staring contest and quickly takes refuge in behaving like he isn't taking this seriously. He latches the collar back into place without meeting Lan Wangji's eyes, but he keeps himself close, wrapping the leash around his hand. "What was he like, this love of yours?"

"No." Lan Zhan feels exposed, but his strength keeps him steady, "You are him."

Explaining his reasoning is impossible - he is going by his instincts, trusting his heart to guide him appropriately. He aches for this demon lord; he wants to take him to a better place with the sun and the wind and the trees. This castle isn't good for him, though it is obvious Wei Ying has done good.

If he can do good in hell, he must be the one he has searched for all of these years.

His eyes close briefly at the feel of the collar and he arches a brow when he opens them again. Glowering?

"Brave, selfless, a leader... He was terribly mischievous and -" his lips twist sadly, "he never knew how much I -" he steps closer and rests a hand on Wei Ying's chest, "He died, I thought. But searching for him brought me here. To you."

"Searching brought you here." Wei Wuxian says, wrinkling his nose in playfully mocking pity. "To the demon realm? And you're looking for selfless love? It is definitely not me."

His heart thuds under that touch, and he takes a step back a little too quickly for fear that Lan Zhan will feel it.

"Your lover is dead. I don't know him."

He's the one in command here, the demon ruler of a palace, and yet he's on the defensive from this intense human who insists that he loves him.

"To you." he repeats, "I felt nothing for the others."

Only confusion and disgust. However Wei Ying doesn't disgust him. Lan Zhan takes note of how he steps back and from some unknown well of courage, he pursues him. His arms are slender but strong as he wraps them around the demon's lord's neck. He has no practice in this and maybe he will regret it keenly. However this is what he wants more than life, more sanity or safety.

He kisses the demon lord, softly at first, but desperation takes hold and lights him on fire, his lips eagerly sucking and biting at Wei Ying's.

His lover isn't dead.

Wei Wuxian gasps as he's caught suddenly and kissed. It's a soft, sweet thing at first, though this human's grip is firm, and he isn't letting go.

He doesn't resist, but neither does he return it. His heart aches with confusion and loneliness, but even the kiss ignites no memory in him.

Tightening his hold slightly on the leash, Wei Wuxian relaxes into the hold and the kiss, allowing it to happen even while he keeps his emotions at arm's length.

"Wei Ying..." he breathes against those lips he could kiss for the centuries the demon lord spoke of earlier. He could kiss them until he too grew horns and talons. Maybe a tail too.

He tells himself he doesn't care that none of it was returned - he had noticed - and he embraces his other half with sorrow tinged, ever so slightly, by joy.

"I'm sorry..." for taking so long, for letting him fall. For not seeing his agony sooner.

"I don't know that name," Wei Wuxian insists.

He doesn't push him away. He's held tight, lips still tingling from the kisses, and he stays relaxed into it. No one has held him in these past years. No one would dare. And before that? He doesn't know.

Part of him considers whether it could be true. He was the man that this stranger loved. He isn't anymore. He's a demon with a heart of stone. "He didn't know you loved him. Did he love you?"

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