Chapter Text
When you awake again he is gone, but that does nothing to calm the dread you feel. Today is the third day. His words echo in your head: bound in blood and flesh. You were already bound in blood.
Your ladies appear at your bedside, one of them offers you something warm to drink.
“What is it?”
“A tincture, dear lady, to prepare you.”
“Prepare me?”
“For the joining of flesh, dear lady.”
You blink at the bluntness of her statement.
“How will this help prepare me?”
“It will dull the pain of the first joining and heighten your sense of touch.”
You look into the goblet at the amber liquid. You down it in one swig, handing the glass back towards one of the women.
“This is an exciting day dear lady; we will spend it preparing you.”
“Where is he?”
“There are preparations he must take as well. Traditions to be followed. You will not see him until the evening, and then you will only see him for eternity.”
You feel like throwing up, but you hadn’t eaten anything to allow this to happen. As if hearing your thoughts the ladies take you to the long dining table, full again with all manner of food. You take a few pieces of bread and an apple that looks impossibly perfect. Your gaze lingers on a platter of meat. It looks…appetizing. But that cannot be. You have never eaten the flesh of beasts.
You bite into the apple, and though the juice drips down your chin you taste nothing. Looking at the apple it looks perfectly ordinary. You grab something else from the platter of fruit, a grape, and pop it into your mouth. Again, you feel the sensation of it in your mouth but cannot taste it.
“Is something wrong, dear lady?”
“I…I cannot taste it,” panic is clear in your voice.
“Try the meat, dear lady.”
“I don’t eat meat. I never have.”
You ignore the urge to grab for a haunch of meat, filling your plate instead with more fruits and vegetables. None of it tastes like anything. This is a disturbing development, but one you will ignore for as long as you can. You will not become him. When you finish your plate and push it away it disappears along with the spread of food. One of the women takes your hand and steers you towards the same tub that’s appeared the last two evenings.
You notice that your cramping is not as bad as it has been, but you see that you are still bleeding. How foul to think your first joining will be in blood. Perhaps it’s fitting, as vile as it is. There is an extravagant gown resting on the bed.
“A gift from the Lord,” one of the women offers.
It is beautiful, black as midnight and adorned with small dark jewels of purple and red. It fits you perfectly and is surprisingly comfortable considering you’ve never worn anything so extravagant in your life. The women begin brushing your hair straight back, applying some poultice to keep it slicked back. You’re not sure what they’re doing to it, but when they’re done, they steer you towards a large mirror for you to take in your appearance.
You do not recognize yourself. Draped in a gown that looks like the moonless sky, your hair slicked back to be wrapped in intricate braids. One of the women brings her hand to your eyes, covering them for a moment. When she removes her hand, your eyes are covered in thick black charcoal, your lips match. The black around your eyes makes their pale blue stand out even more. You look…unnatural.
“You are beautiful, dear lady,” one of the women whispers.
“The finishing touch,” another says while placing a large black necklace around your neck. The jewels appear black but looking closer you see they are a deep red. Beautiful isn’t the word you would use, but you hold your tongue at their expense. They seem…proud of their work, and you must admit you do like these strange shadow women. They have been nothing but kind to you, helpful to the best of their ability.
They leave you alone for a while, you sit in front of the mirror staring at the person in it. This is not you. It cannot be. Reaching forward you touch the glass, and the figure inside mimics your movement.
“You are…exquisite, little light.”
You jump, startled, and turn around quickly to see him standing at the head of the table. He looks more or less the same, perhaps his cape is longer?
“This is not me,” you say boldly, “it is what you want me to be.”
“You can be whatever you want, little light, but tonight is a special night. The third night.”
“You don’t look any different.”
“I am not the one being worshiped this night.”
“You are the only one that will get enjoyment from this night.”
“No, Tilloa, you will find yourself as lost in the pleasure as I. Dine with me.” He gestures to the table where another feast appears.
“Where does all of this come from?”
“The servants, of course. Not your ladies, they only exist to serve you, but the others.”
“Why haven’t I seen any others?”
“You will in time, little light. You will be their queen, after tonight. This is the status you must hold to ensure your…safety.”
“They would hurt me?”
“You are too sweet to resist, they would try, but I would not let them of course.”
“And after tonight that changes how? How would they know?”
“You will smell of me only.”
You twist your face in disgust, not even trying to hide it from him.
“Dine with me,” he says again. He walks towards the other end of the table, holding your chair for you like he did on the first night. You take the seat, there is no point in fighting what is inevitable. He pours your wine and retreats to his end of the table. Filling his own glass and taking a large gulp before turning to his plate. He stacks it high with meat, and you fill yours with vegetables and bread.
You try again to make the food taste as you remember. Frowning when it doesn’t have any flavor.
“You crave the meat, little light,” it is not a question.
“No. I do not eat meat.”
“Perhaps you did not before, but your body craves it now.”
“Another side effect of your foul blood?” you spit.
His gaze darkens for a moment, his chewing the only sound in the room.
“This foul blood runs through your veins now. The same blood that will run through our children’s veins.”
You look away from him to the feast laid out before you. Angrily, you snatch a haunch of an unknown beast and bite into it. You expect to be repulsed and spit it out immediately. But you are surprised to find that it tastes…good. Better than anything you’ve ever eaten before. You meet his gaze to see him watching you with amusement. You frown, dropping the haunch onto your plate in disgust. You sit back in your chair and fold your arms, avoiding his gaze. He seems unbothered by this and fills the room with the sound of his chewing again. You choose to look past him to the flames in the hearth behind him.
“I would like to get up,” you state, not wanting to crawl under the table again in this gown. He waves his hand in the air and the chair you’re in scoots out enough to free you. Walking past him, you plant yourself on a plush rug in front of the fire. Another beast’s fur, you think. The warmth of the fire is comforting, and you consider for a moment throwing yourself in to be free of this cursed bargain.
Aware of the silence in the room suddenly, you turn around to see him standing next to his chair, watching you. The feast is gone and your breathing increases at the realization of what is next. You hear him approach you and fight your instinct to bolt. He kneels in front of you, two goblets in his hand.
“The final night,” he offers you one of the goblets, “bound in blood completely.”
You’re hyperventilating now, your chest rising and falling rapidly. He brings his hand to your face to hold, turning it upwards to meet his gaze.
“I will not hurt you, little light. Not again.” His thumb traces the shape of your bottom lip before he pulls his hand away. He offers you a dagger, but you shake your head.
“I will use the horn, your wedding gift to me,” you force yourself to look him in the eyes. He nods once, “As you wish,” and from somewhere in this cloak he produces the mare’s horn, handing it to you. You take it in your hands, contemplating. Could you stab it in his head to mortally wound him? Would his neck be better? There is something wrong though as you think this. You realize you don’t want to do that. You don’t want to kill him. In horror you realize his blood in your veins will not allow you to hurt him. At least not mortally so.
He had gifted you the ability to kill him but knew that his blood within you would not allow it. Tears well in your eyes again, and you blink them away in defiance. He is patient in front of you, waiting to see what you do with the horn. You shake your head, looking at him, and the feeling that overtakes you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You feel rabid, sick like you’ve seen some of the creatures in the wood get. Mouths foaming as they wander in circles, fearing the still water.
You jump on him, hands gripping the sides of his head as you sink your teeth into the flesh of his shoulder. His hand comes up to hold your back and you hear him gasp, in pain or shock you do not know. He pulls you closer, his other hand wrapping around you to hold you in a twisted embrace. You feel his skin give under the pressure of your bite and hot blood fills your mouth. You swallow it without a second though, quickly, dutifully. You do not stop until you feel the flow of it falter. If you could you’d have bled him dry. When you tear your lips from him and lean back to see his face, you’re not surprised to see adoration there. This is what he wants isn’t it? A mate as vile as he is.
His hand comes up to wrap around your neck, but you have no fear of it. He leans into you, lips meeting your own, and he wastes no time snaking his tongue into your mouth. You know he must taste his blood there, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. He leans you back onto the rug, pulling back from you to sit on his knees. You lay beneath him waiting for what is to come. He rubs a clawed finger down your neck between your breasts, tearing at the cloth there. Even next to the fire you can feel the chill as your body is stripped before him. He discards the torn fabric to the side, unlatching his cloak in the process and tucking it under your head. Both of his hands rest on your knees, spreading you open to him again.
He wastes no time sinking between your legs, to taste you again, fulfilling his part in the blood binding. You do not resist the feeling this time. It does feel good, and you lean into it fully. Arching your back and bringing your hands to hold onto his horns that graze your inner thighs. You want him closer to you, and you try to achieve this by pushing yourself harder against his mouth. He brings a heavy hand to rest on your abdomen, keeping you still for him. You can feel your climax building already, moaning loudly with the feeling. He dips his tongue inside of you then, and his thumb lightly rubbing your clit. You climax then, loudly and intensely. Even more so than the night before. He does not stop thrusting his tongue into you, but he does relinquish the pressure of his thumb on your clit. When you’re begging him to stop, that it’s too much, he obliges.
Leaning over you now, he plants himself between your legs and you can feel the weight of it there. You look down to see his cock, as red as the rest of him, perhaps a little darker towards the head. It is…massive. Scarily so. He sees the fear in your eyes before grasping your chin and tilting your head up to meet him.
“It will only hurt for a moment, little light,” and he wastes no more time, pushing himself inside of you slowly with a deep groan. You hiss at the feeling, it burns, and you can feel your maidenhood break. He doesn’t slow himself entering you until he is fully inside.
“Breathe, sweet Tilloa,” he soothes, wrapping his fingers in your hair to pull you closer to him. And you do. You inhale quickly, you didn’t realize you were holding your breath. He’s not moving anymore, giving your body the chance to adjust to him. “You were made for me, you fit me perfectly.”
It didn’t feel like you fit him perfectly. It felt like you were being torn in half. He started pulling out of you just a little, and you gasped at the sting. Your body clung to him, your sex trying to hold him inside of you as if it didn’t want him to leave. He moaned again and hearing him this way sent chills down your spine. You felt yourself getting wetter around him.
“You take me so well, little light.”
He began thrusting more regularly, just barely pulling out of you and plunging himself back in. Your bodies did not want to separate and soon, just like he said, the sting was gone. Replaced by a feeling of bliss. You were stretched capacity around him, and it felt as though it should hurt, but you only found yourself wanting more. You needed more of him. He leans over you to meet your mouth again, and this time you return the kiss. Your tongues fighting for refuge in the other’s mouth. Suddenly you’re aware of the warm feeling building in you again, and you know you are close to finishing. You pull away from his mouth to wrap your arms around his shoulders, your legs wrapping around his core.
Your moaning becomes more frequent, your hips grinding with his now. He knows you are close too, and he wraps his arms around you to sit you up in his lap. From this angle there is a part of you he’s hitting that almost hurts. Thrusting up into you, you beg him to fill you more. To give you his seed. His response is to thrust harder, deeper, and it only takes a few more for you to shudder around him. Your body is clenching around him of its own will, and you scream at the pleasure. In only a few more thrusts you feel him twitch inside of you, before a hot feeling unlike anything you’ve experienced yet spreads inside of you. He groans, wrapping his clawed hand in your hair and pulling hard. He buries his head in your shoulder, and you can feel the faint brush of his teeth on your skin. He’s holding back, but he wants to bite you.
“Bite me, mark me, Darkness.” He wastes no time considering your request and you feel his teeth sink into the meat of your shoulder. He thrusts into you again, and you can still feel him giving you more of his seed. You sit like this in his lap feeling lightheaded. You feel as though you are drunk, and it is not an unpleasant feeling.
He unlatches from your shoulder to lay you down again beneath him. His eyes are on fire, you wonder if they could burn you if you brought your face close enough to them. He pulls himself from you and his absence feels wrong. You cannot remember what it was like to not have him inside you. He brings his hand up to cup your cheek, desire and reverence clear in his eyes.
“My queen, my little light, my Tilloa.”