Ives wasn't having a good day.
"Fuck!" He hissed, doubling over, before twisting and vomiting blood into the bushes. He wiped his mouth with a grimace. "That was sneaky," he told the knight. Or what's left of him anyway.
The fool had been Ives' little toy for the past month. Hunting him, taunting him, making him question his morality. It was fun. Ives liked his prey anguished before finishing them off. Killing him right away would've been far too easy. So he drew it out.
It would be all the sweeter for the wait.
But Ives had been getting hungry. He hadn't thought much about the knight venturing into the woods. Alone for the first time in weeks. Didn't expect the trap. The temptation of the strength that eating him would give called to his darkness.
Knights weren't supposed to be clever. Ives cursed as he curled onto his side and groaned. All the other knights he had eaten had been big dumb brutes, easily tricked into doing his bidding. But this pitiful looking specimen proved him wrong. This knight, self-sacrificing idiot, had poisoned himself before meeting Ives.
Horrible chills overcame him, and he curled up tighter, clutching his stomach.
It would pass. This wouldn't kill him. But it would hurt like a bitch until it was over.
Footsteps sounded in the woods, voices of soldiers coming towards him. Ives squeezed his eyes shut in exasperation. Of course he'd be found like this. He reached for the dagger at his waist, his clammy hand shaking too much to get a good grip.
"Fuck!" He growled as the men entered the clearing.
Nope, not a good day at all.
This band of idiots at least knew who they were dealing with. The giant lug of a leader took pleasure in kicking Ives into near unconsciousness when they came across him in the woods.
When he came to in a dank dungeon cell. They treated him to some victorious monologue of how they had captured the Dark One.
Oh fucking joy.
It wasn't the first time his dagger had been in the hands of someone else. Ives was actually rather fond of the ploy. Letting some fool think they had control over him. That the little metal stick was any more powerful than a dinner knife.
The worst part about the blade was the fact that it carried his first name on it. (There was a reason hewent by "Ives" alone…)
The previous Dark One had been a slave to the metal. But Ives took on the curse in a less… conventional method. He suspected that was why the magic didn't control him.
It was amusing the make the previous master cut out his own heart for Ives to eat.
Before eating Zoso, Ives had been a humble wendigo. Content to hunt in the far corners of the Enchanted Forest, avoiding contact until it was time to eat. Taking the time to repair the abandoned palace he had claimed. Though the hunger was constant, it could be staved off by a meal every other week. If he were careful he could make the meat last a month before he needed to hunt again.
After taking on the curse. Well, the hunger changed. The nature of the wendigo was to be insatiable. The nature of the Dark One was to increase. His strength increased, his knowledge increased, but the hunger became unreasonable. For the first few months Ives was out of his mind with hunger. Villages fell to his feeding before he came back to himself.
Since it was during the beginning of Queen Regina's reign of terror, Ives happily let her take the blame.
Now though, Ives is actually quite sick of the Dark One's curse. It makes everything taste just the slightest bit off. Especially when he experiments with the magic it gives him.
Ives hates the magic. He found out rather quick that the price for using it would alter his meal. Magic made it sour and nasty, sludge down in his gullet like tar. He'd need to eat twice as much to tame the hunger, to make it taste right.
He preferred the old fashioned way of hunting. Getting his hands dirty. Meat gathered that way remained pure. The blood still tastes like rich wine, sweet and warm, when he forgoes the magic.
Just thinking about it makes his stomach rumble. During his weeks down in the basement cell the poisoning has passed uneventfully. (Though he has had fun frightening the guards with dramatic, mercurial moods.) His strength is going to wane soon if he doesn't eat. The boar meat they leave is a joke.
He's considering escape when he hears delicate footsteps. Far too light to be the armored footfalls of the guards who bring him meals. Or the loud announcing steps of the Captain of the Guard come to gloat. No, these are the footsteps of a lady.
He clears his throat, making his voice waver. A bit of play to entice those hesitant steps into view. "H-hello? Is someone there? Please…"
The lady came closer, just around the corner – still out of sight. But he could smell her. Like warmth, books, and vanilla. His mouth watered and he couldn't hold back a moan at how delicious she smelled.
He had just caught a glimpse of brown curls around the corner before a shout from the guard had her retreating.
Ives smirked to himself, unable to hold back a laugh.
So that must be the lady he's heard rumors about. The people of the Marchlands do love to brag about their beautiful Lady Belle.
He'll let them have another few days or so before he escapes.
He's dozing when he hears the footsteps. Lord Maurice of Avolea himself holds the dagger in a meaty fist.
"Dark One I command you. You will stop Queen Regina from entering our lands."
Ives stood, playing the commanded servant. "Of course my lord, but please, what is the price you are prepared to pay for the magic?'
"You will shoulder the burden of the magic."
That was a clever twist. And Ives would be impressed if he had actually been under the dagger's control.
But alas.
"As you command."
The troops inside their borders are wiped out with a wave of his hand. And the smile is wiped off of Lord Maurice's face when Ives' bites into his arm.
The rest of the evening he spends in a beautiful arrangement of blood and gore. A lovely soundtrack of screaming. Ives considers himself refined. A hunter, who tracks and kills his prey with finesse. But every now and then the carnage is nice. Eating the captain of the guard gives him the strength and energy to finish off the rest of the palace. A bit of magic is a minor sacrifice to keep them all from escaping the castle.
Lord Maurice is the only one left as Ives regains his sense of taste. Recovering it from the gripe of foul magic.
"So my lord," Ives begins casually. Taking the lord's spot at the head of the dining table. "Why don't you return my blade? We've obviously proved it doesn't work on me."
The hours of commands from the man were no more than minor annoyances. Simple twitches with no compulsion to obey.
"Please," the man begs, clutching his bleeding him to his chest. "If I return the dagger, please spare my daughter."
That catches Ives' attention. How could he forget? In his prowling around the palace he had come by a locked door. Each time something else would draw his attention. A sweet, feminine smell was behind that door. And Ives wanted to save the best for last.
"You aren't in a position to deal, my lord," Ives drawled. "Bring her to me and I'll decide what I'll do with her."
Though protesting Maurice finally went to fetch his daughter. Leaving Ives to his meal of flesh.
Ives eats as he waits. The final pieces of the Captain of the Guard will give him the strength to magic himself home.
Ives grins as Maurice leads the most beautiful women Ives had ever seen into the room. Even beneath the stench of blood and fear he recognizes her as his almost-visitor in prison. The treat behind the locked door.
"Ah, there she is," he purrs to the discomfort of them both. "A lovely as promised." Maurice looks like he's about to crumple. But his lovely daughter holds her head high, turning to face him instead of the gore littered about the room. Stares him in the eye despite hiding her trembling hands in the folds of her skirt.
Maurice begs for mercy as Ives moves to stand in front of them. He silences Maurice in order to fully enjoy the sight of the lady. Untouched by the slaughter, her dress is clean except for the edges of her dress.
"What do you want with me?" She asks, without a tremor in her voice.
"What I want, my dear, is to offer you a deal." He stands and offers his gloved hand to her, blood still dripping from his fingertips. "You for the rest of your kingdom."
It's been so long since he's had company. He has a feeling that this lovely woman is going to be a delight to get to know.
"My father, he will be safe as well?"
Ives spares him a quick glance. "Once he returns my dagger, then yes."
She turns to her father, who passes the blade to Ives with reluctance. Ives tucks it into his belt for safekeeping.
"Well, my lady? Do we have a deal? Come with me."
There's only slight hesitance as she places her clean, soft hand into his. And her bright blue eyes meet his with defiance. "Yes. I will go with you."
Ives smiles and takes her home.