Revelation of the Highblood: a short drabble fanfic

[Cute drabble, fluff.]

He'd survived.

The Grand Highblood, a six foot five goliath of a troll, made this discovery when he'd returned to the execution site, where Darkleer had expertly shot that legendary arrow into the flank of the martyred redblood. The body of the Signless hung limply, head down, face taut. His own blood crusted his leggings, a blue tipped arrow buried in his right side. The Highblood ran his fingers over the martyr's chest in quiet admiration, as though he were praising something holy. And holy he was. He was gorgeous, for a troll so low on the hemospectrum. His hair was fluffy and long, and framed his face perfectly. His eyes were a fiery red and gold, enough to spark determination in anyone who went to his sermons. The Highblood remembered, fondly, the Signless's voice ringing and resounding in the rocky pulpit, a desolate crevice of rock turned into a place of worship.

The Highblood, lost in his musings, didn't notice the Signless move.

The redblood slowly raised his head, eyes squinting in the glow of the Beforan sun. Highblood broke from his thoughts, and he gazed upward at the hung martyr, chained by his wrists to a stone flogging jut. For a mutantblood, he had an air of royalty. Golden rings adorned his small horns, which were barely visible in his long, silky black hair. A necklace of jade green beads hung around his neck, a few of them crusted in dried blood. He stared back blankly at the Highblood, eyes slowly refocusing and adjusting, and the Signless realized who was staring at him. His jaw dropped, and he immediately looked away. "Highblood..." He breathed, afraid to make eye contact with him.

Highblood threw down his iron club, and it landed in the dirt and rock with a loud crash. He wrapped his arms around the smaller redblood. His massive, spiraling horns barely reached the top of the flogging jut. His eyes clenched shut, and he allowed indigo tears to streak down his face. Signless was confused, but didn't push the larger troll away from him. "Are you alright? Why are you crying, Highblood?" He asked him, slightly less afraid when he saw the tears rolling down his cheeks in small rivulets. With a strained yet deep voice, the Highblood gave him a shocking reply. "I'm happy you're still alive." Signless bit his lip, unsure of what to say and curious as to why the Highblood wasn't angry.

As if sensing his questions, the Highblood retreated quickly, arms falling back to his sides. "I was hoping that Darkleer wouldn't kill you. I wanted you alive, but of course, you know that Condy finds you a threat to her empire. I'm here to take you back to the church of my Messiahs. You change the hearts and faith of trolls, and you'll be an invaluable ally in recruiting new faces to our cause." Signless's lips turned up in the corners, and he jingled his restraints. "Get me down from here, and I'll gladly go back to the church with you."

The Highblood reached up, and pulled the rusted chains free from the flogging jut, two massive craters in the stone where the chains had been connected. He then started his work on the irons coiled around Signless's wrists, bending them easily. Signless brushed his fingers over the burn scars on his wrists, a result of the burning hot irons they'd placed against them. He knew deep down they would never heal. He gazed up at the taller troll, a look of silent gratitude.

"I also came with another message for you, Signless." Highblood muttered in a voice that was low and gravelly. He brought the redblood closer, leaning his head down and gently bumping his massive horns against Signless's. The redblood gasped, but returned the gesture.

Trolls, with their four odd ways of "romance"… matespritship, the closest quadrant that resembled human love. Matesprits often placed their horns to each other's, a sign of affection and tender care.

Signless gazed up at him, and after a few moments, he smiled. "If you're asking me to be your matesprit, the answer is yes."

Highblood, breaking from his usual stone-cold demeanor for a second time, smiled and picked up the redblood, bringing him close to his chest as though he were a wriggler. "I love you, Signless." Not missing a beat, he replied quietly. "I love you too, Highblood." Signless gently moved his fingers up to the massive troll's cheek, stroking it sweetly. He withdrew after a few moments, fingertips streaked with the white grease paint the Makara family was known for.

Signless realized belatedly that with his body free from the flogging jut, and the chains that once bound him to it scattered in broken, rusted pieces on the ground, they'd be looking for his body. They presumed him a dead man.

"Highblood.. I hate to ruin this moment, but we might have to get out of here. They'll come here, and they'll see my body has vanished, and they'll wonder where it has gone. Do you mind if we seek refuge in a nearby town for a few days for me to gather some new clothes?" The Highblood placed him down on his feet gracefully, nodding in silent agreement. "Of course. I need to pick up supplies for the church as well. The reason I came to see if you... was curious if you were still breathing. I was wondering if you'd want to become a preacher in the house of my Messiahs. A high profile troll like yourself would bring greatness into those halls." Signless smiled in response, and he gazed down at his bloody clothes, and the arrow buried in his body. He bit his lip, all of this suddenly feeling surreal. He was alive. He was free.

It was time for him to change his life, to make a new name for himself. He gazed up at his new partner in crime, the least likely companion he'd ever have. "Highblood. I have a request." Highblood looked down curiously, nodding as though he wanted him to speak.

"Call me Meuira."