Title: Toy
Summary: Toys are made to be broken, and Herba is sure that Kumo makes a fine, fine toy.
Rating: Definitely for a mature audience.
Warnings: Onesided ChaosxKumo here, as well as kinda onesided HerbaxKumo. Ish. …. Just read, you'll find out. Shounen ai, some yaoi. Rape. Hell, if you squint, there might even be incest.
THE BACK BUTTON IS ON YOUR TOP LEFT. THIS STORY IS DISTURBING. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. DO NOT COMPLAIN TO ME.
Disclaimer: FFU is not mine. I borrow its characters to torture occasionally, but still...
This takes place shortly after the events of episode 18.
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Mmmmmm…
Herba absently twirls the curved handle of her umbrella in her right hand, leaning forward to whisper some amusing comment in the ear of the Earl, even as she watches the last of the Deathlords out of the corner of her eye. He stands aloof in his customary corner, leaning against the pillars with his eyes closed and his head tilted back. Surreptitiously running her eyes over the lean lines of his slim body, she neatly slides her gaze back towards the Earl as pale green eyes open to cast a cool glance in her direction. It flicks neatly across the room, not seeing anything out of place, and the eyes close once again.
The Earl is distracted by Pist's latest shenanigan, and Herba takes the opportunity to give Makenshi another quick look-over.
He makes such nice eye candy.
Beside her, the Earl throws a minor tantrum over the taste of his flan ("Not enough despair!") and she leans over, purring and soothing him. Finally, his temper subsides and the child's face settles into a sulky pout. Nothing has been going his way today, apparently. The little twins, that big-breasted girl, and Magun-chan had apparently eluded Fungo's monsters again, his flan had been tasteless, the bath water too cold. He grouses and grumbles beside her, before instructing Makenshi to see him in his private chambers later. There is little to no change of expression on the white swordsman's face at the demand, but Herba catches the slight flinch that ran through his body at the words, the fine line of tension that remains in his shoulders, tight as a garrote wire.
In her mind, Herba chortles. Aiyaah Makenshi-chan. Such a pity Chaos has already laid claim on you. You'd make such a fine toy to play with.
But there are other things she can do.
Leaning off the Earl's floating throne as far as she could, Herba calls to him.
"Aii, Makenshi-channnn" She hides a smirk as she sees the tightening of his jaw upon the title she bestowed upon him, and purposely hitches up the pitch of her voice another half octave to irritate him. "I heard about your last… campaign against the Black Wind." Despite the flirtatious overtones, she is sure he can hear the irony. There is no expression in the pale green eyes that watch her dispassionately, but Herba knows not to be deceived by his seeming nonchalance. Oscha had been very smug that day, the irritating, wiggling clown, but he'd dropped plenty of juicy hints and boasts, and she'd pieced together the rest.
And, of course, there is that glimpse she caught of a ragged red cloak fluttering in the wind when Makenshi had returned.
"See anyone familiar? I heard you had such fun."
She has watched him for long enough to know what to look for. The sharp inhale, the widening of those lovely eyes, the sudden tension in his body and the straightening of his back, white-knuckled hands fisted at his sides. It is easy to hide her smile behind her hand.
Pull the right strings, and he'll dance just the way you want him to. Ahh, Makenshi, playing with you is so entertaining.
But there is no other reaction to her words, and after a moment, his hands relax once again at his sides, and the dispassionate look is back in his eyes. The white swordsman ignores her, his favored response to her teasing and flirtations. He has been well trained. She would have liked it more if he had been willful, but the Earl has broken in his toy quite thoroughly by now.
Pity.
Lost chances, lost playthings. So she'll take what pleasure she can now, in his pain, and his suffering, and the knowledge that he has lost everything and will continue to lose more.
It is only fair, when she can't taste that sweet body of his for herself.
The Earl kicks back his heels, grumbling about the incompetence of his men, and once again, she coos sweet platitudes and dark thoughts to appease his irritation. He ignores her this time, sitting bolt upright and declaring that he was done for the day. Herba, who knows what to watch for, treasures the pale glimmer of satisfaction she gleans from the sword-summoner's near imperceptible flinch.
He will obey Chaos. He has always played the role of compliant puppet well. They know, of course, what his true goals are. They always have.
But in the meantime, there is no reason not to enjoy him while he lasts. She follows the child-Earl down the labyrinthine passages of Gaudium with a white shadow trailing behind them. Down and down to private quarters of Chaos, where both he and Makenshi would enter. Where, if she pressed her ear against the door, she could hear them, and smile in both envy and predatory delight.
Yes, they would enjoy their toy while he lasts.
After all, between the other Deathlords and Chaos, there is no telling when he will break.
Such a nice toy.
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He does not know why Herba watches him (he recognizes the feeling of those dark eyes on his back), nor, to be sure, does he really want to know. Her flirtatious manner has always grated on his nerves, and she seems to be going out of her way of late to taunt him, hint at his real purposes for remaining with Chaos and his fragmented relationship with the Black Wind. Kumo does his best to ignore her, as he always has. But sometimes, sometimes, her barbs hit home.
"See anyone familiar? I heard you had such fun."
Kiri!
It takes all of his hard-earned self control not to reach for his sword, not to shatter the years of lying and deception in that moment of rage and pain. But he knows better. Herba enjoys goading him, especially about his relationship with Chaos. All the inhabitants of the castle seem to be aware of that matter, and it is difficult for him to dodge the sneers, the leering smiles and bawdy jokes when he goes about his business in Gaudium.
It does not matter. He will endure.
Chaos's adult form pins him against the wall, and he does not resist. His clothing has long since been shredded by the creature's stinging, burning power, and he is left with little more than the ribbon-choker around his neck as it grinds its body against his.
There is blood, and pain, and unwanted, invasive touches, but he knows better than to struggle. Chaos's lips are brutally pressed against his own, a parody of a kiss. Its hands wander down his body, and Kumo walls himself off in his own mind while the inevitable happens.
He is left alone in the room in his own blood and anguish, because not even Chaos wishes to be in his company any longer than necessary. "Dirty," it had said, wrinkling its nose in revulsion as it leaves.
He was dirty.
Herba's malicious, secret smile seems to hint that she knows all that and more, and that disturbs him on a level the swordsman cannot even comprehend. She is just one of the many things that eat away his resolve and his determination to fight, draining his strength and mental reserves. He is cracking under the strain of it all, the lies and the pain and despair, and her smile that said that it would all be for naught.
Soon, it would be time. Time for him to reveal himself, and take up arms against his hated enemy after eternity in subterfuge. But for a little while longer, he would dance to their tune, and play the puppet for them, allow them to yank at his strings some more.
Just a little while longer, before he breaks.
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A/N: Hurrah for twisted and disturbing themes. I'm trying to work some of that angst out of my brain so I can write proper fluff. Not sure if it worked, but I ended up with a story for it. XD
Review please