Fandom: Arc The Lad; Twilight of the Spirits
Rating: Erm, PG13
Summary: If he couldnt remember anything, how could he decide what to do? How could he not believe what they told him if his mind was otherwise empty?
Warnings : Twincest (DUH) boys kissing, violence
Notes: I PUT ART BEFORE GRAMMAR XD *cough* I'm sorry if you find my writting style a little difficult, but if you keep reading its clearer, the first bit is artisticly vauge...
AND I may write more to this, may. Or write something from Kharg's POV, or a prequal, or a sequal... Maybe. It depends if people like this idea, give good comments, blah blah blah...
He turned his face to the wind, breathing in as it rolled over the sun kissed hillside. Everything was faint silver, gleaming under the low morning sun. The wind smelled of dew and sweet budding flowers.
He watched the hills, serine in their emptiness, with his back to the place behind. He could hear everything, feel every stroke of the wind over his skin, still damp from those dreams.
The sand between the grasses was soft against his knees as he fell, gaze fixed behind the horizon to the emerald, sun dappled canopies. Even the Chaos Forest looked peaceful. He felt suddenly oddly disconnected with the things around him.
A midnight black candle with an azure flame.
A bloodstained dagger shaped like a dragons’ wing.
Crawling vines of sickly green with bloody red flowers.
He had seen them all in his dream that night. Not only that, but heard someone’s frantic panting, some pained and delusional pleading, and the soft murmur of chanting.
Chills prickled like whispers of ice up is spine.
“What are these dreams?” The words flowed out on a tired sigh as he pushed his bangs from his face.
“Still?” He spiraled on the balls of his feet in shock, eyes narrowed.
“…oh, it’s only you,” his guard dropped instantly. “you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”
“You wouldn’t have noticed me, not though all that hair.”
“But I did,” he turned away, feeling oddly bitter.
“If the dreams don’t stop, we should…” but the second trailed off, standing behind the first and watching the wind bat his hair like a kitten with string. “If you won’t cut it, tie it back.” as he spoke he unraveled the red shimmering ribbon from around his wrist, and attempted to tame the other’s unruly hair.
As the first felt those fingers weave through his hair, he glanced back unsurely. He wasn’t quite used to the attention, and found it strange, that this sort of attention from someone who was supposed to be so close to him made him uneasy. But then, there were moments he could tell the second felt the same way, from time to time.
“Why does it matter how I wear my hair, brother?” The first asked after a long silence.
“Because, maybe you would have seen them coming if you had bothered to tie it back.”
For some reason, the sound of metal against metal as his brother drew his sword was strikingly familiar.
As he heard this, his left hand twitched before he muttered, “I knew they were coming…but I forgot my bow.”
“It’s alright, start heading back, it’s only a few monsters.”
But seeing his brothers’ sword in his hand, his heart was throbbing against his ribs.
“No, I will fight them as well.” The shrubbery before them rustled softly, almost enough so to be simply the wind.
Blue light flowed from the hilt of his brothers sword to the tip, sparkling like liquid sapphire in the sun. Blue scales glistened for a moment in the shade.
“Darc, go, now!”
The gentleness of the morning breeze followed him all the way back to Yewbell. He tried to concentrate on it, rather then the looks he got from the townsfolk , as he wandered down the streets.
Like many times before, he found himself at his mother’s grave, nestled under the large oak tree that blanketed it with shade. Where he had managed to forget his weapon, he had remembered his flute, so he pulled it out of his small leather bag and began to play. The notes were soft and smooth, but nothing close to shy. It was easier to forget things when he had to concentrate on playing.
“You’ve been coming down here a lot lately,” Darc looked up to see a girl at the entrance of the tiny Eden, framed in the gentle light from the field of the castle ruins.
“So?” he set down his flute and narrowed his eyes, “what do you want?” Darc hated her so much, for all those sad smiles she would always give.
“Do you miss her, Darc?”
“How could I? I don’t remember her, I don’t remember anything!” He growled, wishing he could forget as easily as she seemed to.
“Oh…” she sauntered over, sitting next to him and smiling as if she had done him a favor.
“I wish we never got in that bloody accident, then maybe she’d be alive and I would have my memories.” Darc thought maybe if she couldn’t think of anything to say she’d leave.
“well…I guess you’ll have to just believe what we tell you until you remember, hm?” She gave a fluttering little giggle, tossing her long sable braid over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
“Oh? But you won’t tell me why all the towns people look at me that way?”
She looked at him for a long moment, eyes dark and sad.
“Paulette?” a tall woman with spiky, short blonde hair stood in the stone doorway to the little Eden, dressed in a flowing white dress. She clutched a soft cooing child to her chest, who always seemed to whimper when Darc was about. “Will you come home? I need help with dinner…”
“Of course…” within moments they were gone.
“…damn it,” Dark hissed at nothing at all, as the wind became silent around the grave.
Darc woke with a horrible start, panting heavily in panic. The thin white sheets clung to the sweat of his body.
The same images raveled around his brain; the bloody flower vines, the dragon wing dagger, the blue flamed candle…
In this dream, he had managed to look down at himself, struggling in the sea of vines. His body was warped and broken, plagued with sickness. It was a mish mash of scales and claws, of bone breaking though skin, and ratting wounds.
Darc did his best to lock away the vivid pictures and cling to what was real. In all his suffocating panic, he almost missed the voices.
Carefully he slid out of bed, peeling away the clinging sheets until he was left only in his sleeveless nigh shirt. His body felt weak and stiff as he crept across the hardwood floor, wading though starlight speckled darkness of the room. As he peered though the tiny crack in the door he could see his brother in a stripe of moonlight, and a woman in a long flowing dress, wrapped in shadow.
“..worried, he keeps having these dreams.” Kharg said to her, leaning against the table and toying nervously with the king statuette perched there.
“That is normal you know, it was such a strenuous process, I’m no surprised there are nightmares…” Her voice was smooth and lyrical.
For some reason Darc couldn’t understand he could feel his heart throbbing in his throat, as his head began to prickle with pain.
“Well there must be something you can do to make them stop, I’m-“
“Scared he’ll remember?” her giggles fluttered like butterflies, “You’re such a silly little boy.”
There was a silence where Darc’s breath snared in his throat.”
“…just shut up, you don’t know anything.” At this she gave another amused, impassionate giggle.
“Without me dear boy, you wouldn’t have him today. He’d be dead and you’d be alone. Although I think Darc’s old self would have preferred that, to the sorry, empty state he is now.”
“…you just shut up! You’re the one who suggested it! You’re the one who made him this way!” Kharg’s voice grew low and sharp, much like the hiss of a venomous snake. “You…it’s your fault.” He now sounded unnerved. Darc watched silently, head spinning, trying to figure out what she was being blamed for.
“That’s because…that’s because,” her voice became hushed small and shaking. “I couldn’t stand to see him suffer that way. I couldn’t stand by and let him die…I had to remove the source of infection, even if that meant…” She trailed off, sobbing softly into her billowing sleeve. Suddenly she threw her hand down in a gesture of anger, stepping forward so a strip of moonlight fell across her chest. Her skin was white and perfect like china.
“I may have turned him into the sorry excuse for a creature he is now, but it was that was to save his life. You lied to him. You’re the one who won’t explain away why he can’t fit in here, and you’re the one who worries enough to call me here only because you fear he may be remembering. I told you before we started this that the ritual may not permanently erase his memory. In fact, I hope he remembers. I hope he remembers and cuts you open for all the nonsense that you’ve told him!” Darc didn’t have to strain to hear by the end, for by the end she was shouting.
“Camillia…” Kharg seemed speechless, not even noticing as the statuette toppled, and shattered to a million tiny pieces over the floor.
“Shut your mouth, you don’t deserve to say anything to me,” she steeped from the veil of shadows into the sliver of the moonlight, so he could see her cutting glare. Darc’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of her. She was stunningly beautiful, but certainly not human. Her lips were pale frosty green, her hair a bouquet of lush green leaves and one sunset orange flower.
“What…” Darc’s fingers nudged the door as he clattered forward in sudden pain. His head felt like it was splitting open, his vision blurring as he tried to focus on the girl from the open doorway. “What’s going on…?”
“Oh Darc…what have they done to you? Don’t you know better then this…?” Her words floated to him as if from very far away.
He knew he knew this woman, and knew there was so much importance to her words, he’d never sort it all out in the seconds he had before the blackness swallowed his mind.
“…maybe you should tell him.”
“It’s been three months and the nightmares haven’t gone away.”
“I think he deserves to know, I mean, he can tell something’s wrong.”
“He believes everything I’ve-“
“He can’t remember anything before the ritual, that doesn’t mean it’s okay to make up stories about your dad disappearing, and living together happily until an accident killed her! I know you might be scared but-“
“I’m not scared! He’s fine!”
“Not after what he saw last night he won’t be.”
“He won’t remember.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I do. Now just-“
“What good would telling him do? You think he can go back to the deimos now? They’d kill him!”
“Look just go, I don’t want you to be around when he wakes up…”
Darc found he was to tired to listen to anymore. The images flashing before his eyes were making it hard to concentrate anyways.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” his eyes were unable to focus, but from the blurred blonde spikes and pale skin, he could tell it was Tatjana.
“If I don’ do this, Master Darc will die,” the flower women was standing at his feet as a brilliant blur of green.” No Drakyr has ever survived this sickness…it’s an ancient disease, that used to pray on dragons in ancient time.” She paused, her shoulders drooping, giving her the air of a wilting rose. “But Darc…he’s special,” for the smallest moment he could focus on her chilling sad smile, “so I can save him.”
“I can’t believe the medicine didn’t do anything…” Tatjana muttered in defeat, shaking her head. “Camillia, if this succeeds, what will become of Darc?”
“…I will remove all the Drakyr blood that can be infected,” From the folds of her sleeves she pulled a dagger shaped like a dragons wing. It dripped in azure candle light, making it appear as if drawn from a wound. “And Darc will be completely transformed. He will become human, and probably loose all his memory.”
“That’s…but where will he go?”
“I will take him to Yewbell,” from the watery shadows Kharg immerged, pale and ghostly in the azure glow. “I’ll take him home.”
“But Kharg are you sure-“ Tatjana began, the light creating a mirror off her glasses to shield her eyes.
“He won’t have anywhere else to go. You think the deimos will take him?” Camillia answered his question with a sharp, bitter giggle.
“Oh no, they won’t,” she turned the blade in her pale, slender fingers, “Looks like his life is in your hands as well as mine Kharg.”
Darc’s eyes widened as he watched her raise the dagger above her chest. She looked down, her eyes a blur of pale amethyst tears.
“Forgive me Master Darc, for I cannot watch you die.”
The tears beat the knife to his skin.
Dark woke with a scream lodged in his throat. A desperate gasp cut though his gaping lips as he bolted up, dripping in sweat.
His head spun with the images and thoughts filling him up. He felt like his skull might split from everything inside. There was nothing to anchor himself to, no comfort of reality he could cling to. Everything he knew was lies.
He needed to find Camillia.
The sheets were pearl cobwebs clinging to his skin as he struggled to stand. The hard wood floors groaned in tired protest as he pulled himself up. The room was bathed in silky white moonlight, colouring everything a gentle cream.
“Darc?” He froze half way across the room, turning slowly back towards the bed. Where are you going?”
“What are you doing in my room?” Darc felt jolts of fear and anger prickle in his chest.
“You have a fever, I thought I should stay with you incase you need anything.” Kharg sat up with a sleepy smile, amber- brown hair spilling freely down his bare shoulders. Darc could hardly believe he was in such a state that he didn’t his brother sleeping next to him.
“I…need a drink,” he scrambled forwards wondering just why he had been lied to so.
Kharg Rose from the bed, white sheets draped around his shoulders pierced by the blades of moonlight from behind, etching his silhouette in grey under the fabric.
“Let me get it for you.” Darc’s eyes narrowed, smoldering like scarlet embers. So he was trying to keep him here?
“Any reason you’re being so accommodating all of a sudden?” he turned to face his brother, crossing his arms over his chest. “There isn’t anything your not telling me is there? Kharg seemed to become dimmer between the shafts of moonlight, his gaze falling to his feet as his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he was wrapped in white gossamer moonlight, like a very fragile doll.
“What do you mean?”
“I think you know what I mean. You haven’t been doing a very good job explaining things to me, why should I tell you anything?” To this Kharg was silent, shuffling back a little from the glare of the moon.
“Tsu, doesn’t matter. I’ll find Camillia, and she’ll explain things better then you.”
“C-Camillia? Who’s that? Darc have you been having bad dreams?” Kharg’s eyes were desperately pleading him to believe.
Don’t play with me!” Darc was up to Kharg in an instant and backhanded him across the face. Kharg fell backwards ungracefully, body a tangle in white sheets. “You think this is a game? Does it amuse you?”
“N-no” he struggled to sit up at the sting of Darc’s voice.
“Shut the hell up. Every time I hear your voice O want to-“ Darc raised his hand, poised like a claw, and brought it across Khargs face. His human nails left puffy pink lines across his cheek. “Why? Why did you lie to me!?”
“…Darc, they…” Kharg clutched his hurt cheek, tears blistering in the corners of his eyes, “they were just bad dreams…”
“Oh really? Then why can’t I remember anything before a few months ago? Why do people of this town look at me like that? Why does Paulette give me those pitying looks?” his voice grew louder, sharper.
“The…the accident, you…lost your memory…” with that Dark took a fist full of sheet, pulling Kharg so they were face to face.
“Bullshit. Why won’t you tell me the truth? WHY?!”
Kharg looked at him for a long moment, his eyes washed with tears.
“I-I…D-Darc…” he seemed to realize he couldn’t make himself speak, and instead latched his arms around Darc’s shoulders. For a fleeting moment as he watched the fold of white, Darc got the impression of being enclosed in wings.
“Because I don’t want you to go!” he held on desperately, nails biting into Darks’ shoulders, face hidden between his neck and shoulder.
“What!?” Darc was ridged in shock.
“I was going to tell you I was!” Kharg’s voice broke as he sobbed softly into Darc’s shoulder. Tears slithered down his cheeks. “But not right away, not when you were still recovering…but, but…I…I liked having someone else in the house again! Our parents are dead, and…I liked…not being alone…” he held on tighter at this time, as if afraid Darc would tare from his arms.
Darc felt again stunned and heavy with the words drowning his head. His knees buckled and he stumbled into a sitting position, Kharg falling with him.
“I…” thought you didn’t remember…”
“I didn’t remember everything, just the ritual Camillia preformed on me…what was I?”
“…a dragon king.” Kharg still hadn’t let go, resting his cheek on Darc’s collar. “A powerful creature who lead races of demons.”
“And…you had me weakened and depending on your care like a sick pet?” Darc snapped, jerking away slightly.
“Yes” Kharg clung tighter, refusing to let go. “I did, I did and I liked it…” Darc was stunned silent, expectations of disagreement abandoned. He wasn’t sure what to do, as he gently pushed on Kharg’s chest.
“Let me go…”
“I’m so sorry Darc…I just wanted to not be alone…”
“LET ME GO!”
“NO!” Darc let out a startled gasp as pain shot up his neck. Kharg had tilted his head the slightest bit, sinking his teeth into skin.
“Kharg! Let go!” Darc dug his nails into Kharg’s back, but he only held tighter, pressing his eyes shut. He bit down harder, shuddering slightly as Darc gave a pained gasp growing ridged. “K-Kharg…”
Kharg let the skin slide form between his teeth, wet and scarlet.
“No…” he said almost childishly, giving the wound a long wet lick. “Y-you can’t leave…I won’t let you.”
“I’m not leaving.”
Kharg looked up, eyes wide and shocked.
“Y-you won’t? Really?”
“…not for tonight, at least.”
“What about tomorrow?” We’ll see. Won’t know if I’ll stay unless you let me go now.”
Kharg’s grip began to slowly loosen, arms uncoiling from around Darc’s ribs.
“But you’ll stay least one day?”
“And the next?”
“We’ll see,” Darc rubbed absently at the throbbing spot on his neck.
“Okay…tonight…just…just lay down with me?” Darc narrowed his eyes, shifting over a little and falling to his side with his back to his brother.
“Don’t be surprised if I’m gone in the morning.”
“I’ll be surprised if you stay.” Kharg murmured shyly, one arm hovering for a moment before sliding around Darc’s waist.
“Then maybe I will stay, just to shock you.”
“…are you attempting to taunt me?”
“…no, taunting you would more resemble…” Darc rolled over slightly so close he could taste the dryness on Kharg’s breath. “Something like this-“ Kharg’s cheeks were shinning scarlet.
“Oh just…go away. I never understood you.”
“I never understood me either, that makes two of us.” Kharg leaned forward, lips touching Darc’s for a brief moment. Barely a kiss.
“Will you leave tomorrow?”
Darc roller over, feeling odd under Kharg’s arm, until he was again facing away. Kharg closed his eyes sadly to Darc’s back. For a moment Darc’s hand hovered Khargs, fingers ghosting his knuckles, before it drew away.
“I really don’t know.”
And that is that. Please review *bow* it feeds starving authors, it does!