A/N: No, no, it's not a lemon. I'm sorry if I got anyone's hopes up, but I just don't do those. I even have issues with kissing scenes. Sorry.
Tortured Soul
Trigon stretched luxuriously, feeling the tips of his new wings just brush the high ceiling of the cave. His current host certainly had taste, even if it had proven to be a fool in the end. Really, one simply did not summon a demon of his stature and then expect him to do whatever the idiot of a ritual-caster wanted.
A sudden noise made him turn, and he watched as the chaos sorceress fell through a portal. Interestingly, her magic was now black in color, as was her hair. Demon possession tended to bring out different traits in different people—though, to judge by the vomit-inducingly noble look in her eyes, the transformation in this case was no more than skin deep. A shame: she would have been a powerful force for evil, had he been able to turn her. This dimension was shamefully lacking in necromancers.
"Let him go!" she demanded as she got off of the floor. "Let him go, or else I'll—"
"Do what? Kill my host?" Trigon asked smoothly in Malchior's hoarse dragon-voice. The girl froze, caught by his words and the timeless, infinite hatred that shone through Malchior's eyes. He continued ruthlessly, "Why, what could you stand to profit from that? All that you would be doing is slaying the body—I can assure you that my spirit is far harder to kill."
The little sorceress kept staring at him, as wide-eyed as a bird locked in the gaze of a serpent. She really is quite fetching, he noticed abruptly. A thought flashed across his mind, and Malchior's fangs were bared in the subsequent smile.
The motion pulled the girl out of her stupor, and for the first time, Trigon saw a delectable spark of fear mingling with her anger. Deliberately, he walked towards her, relishing the way her terror was so rapidly overcoming her fury as he drew nearer.
"Stop," but it was a plea and they both knew it. Trigon's grin widened. Now he had her backed into a wall, and he slowly transformed his stolen body back into that of a human, placing his hands on either side of her head as he did do.
"No," he said, before running his hand over her lips so gently it was simply terrifying. She could fight fire with fire, but she was rendered helpless before such warped, twisted gentility. Trigon wondered if she knew how amazingly arousing the panic in her eyes was: she seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown, her breath shallow and coming in rapid bursts.
"Please, please, don't—Malchior—help me…" Her voice was barely audible. "Don't… do… this…"
He shook his head in mock regret. "I'm afraid he can't help you, my dear." His hand dropped to brush along her clavicle as he whispered, "No one can."
Without any warning, Kyrie quite simply exploded. "Don't touch me!" She grabbed his hand and somehow managed to swing the dragon's human form away from her and into the wall behind her, using her own body as an axis to rotate him. Trigon was too surprised to adjust to the attack, and stone met unprepared flesh in a head-on collision. Predictably, stone won.
From the repressed depths of Kyrie's magic, she felt a cold tingle start to spread to her heart and through the rest of her body. Ice slid though her veins, a cruel mockery of the fire that had been lit in her blood just minutes past. Through suddenly numb lips and chattering teeth, Kyrie began to chant one of the first spells than any magic user learned when they entered their apprenticeship. Dear gods, she hated demons' spells.
"Fretestra Picictato," she said shakily, trying to beat back the cold with the warmth of the magic that was seeping back into her body—the power that Malchior had stolen to power the ritual, the ritual that she was now undoing. "Fretestra Pic—"
"Hah!"
Kyrie didn't stop chanting, but she glanced at Trigon's face, faltering just slightly. Even as the outline of his figure blurred and shifted, even as Malchior's eyes began to glow crimson instead of black, Trigon's expression was one of unmistakable triumph. "Fool of a girl," he sneered, drawing back his hand to deliver an open-handed slap. "You will not be saved by this!"
She may have responded: she couldn't remember the next five minutes as anything more than a blur of pain and motion, and could only pray that Trigon would be gone before he succeeded in killing her.
The black had completely drained from Malchior's eyes when she had mustered the strength to look up, and it was undoubtedly the dragon that stood before her, blinking as though in a daze.
"Malchior! Are you yourself—do you feel well? Trigon had you for a long ti—what are you—"
She was cut off as the dragon threw himself at her, snarling in a way that was purely animalistic. Her head hit the wall with a painful "thud," and she slid down the rest of the way, barely conscious but aware enough to know that she should fear the look in Malchior's eyes.
There was a sudden ripping sound, and Kyrie felt the lacing of her bodice give way. Malchior threw the piece of torn fabric to the side, and Kyrie closed her eyes involuntarily as his intentions sunk in fully. Weakly, she tried to lift her arms to ward herself against the imminent attack.
It was an exercise in futility: a heavy body landed on top of her and began, without any prelude or attempt at finesse, to rip off the rest of her clothes.
Kyrie's eyes squeezed even further shut, and tears started to leak from the corners. "Please, no, Malchior—this is you, not the demon—oh, gods, nonononono…"
She was down to her shift, and her struggles were growing weaker by the second. Help me, someone, anyone, help me.
"Monster!"
Kyrie felt Malchior's weight being torn off of her. She opened her eyes just in time to see a figure with a shock of white hair slam his fist into Malchior's jaw. "Foul, disgusting beast!"
Rorek, Kyrie thought, before she was overwhelmed by darkness.
::grimaces:: I don't even particularly like this chapter, but I couldn't figure out a way to rewrite it and not have to change the entire storyline I had planned out (which involved beserker Rorek). A lot of this just felt awkward, in terms of writing and word choice, but the next chapter will be better, I promise. Actually, I may try to get it up tonight, as well.
Oh, and if anyone happens to be interested, I also posted a Raven/Malchior oneshot. The title is "Pain", but it's not really as angsty as it sounds.
