SURPRISE SURPRISE SURPRISE to my dear friend, Melissa aka SasuNarufan13. Consider this your belated birthday present I meant to get done for ages, and then planned for Halloween. And of course time hasn't been a friend to mine, so better late than never.
I really thought I was done with Little Red & Bad Wolf series but thanks to a sasunaru story done by my dear friend called Bride of the Devil, a new idea started turning for this series. If y'all haven't checked out Melissa's stories, I highly recommend. Especially Bride of the Devil.
To new stories, I do think reading the other series would help better understand the setting. Here's the order: 1). Little Red, 2). Big Bad Wolf, & 3). What Lies to Unseen Eyes
What Lies to Unseen Eyes
Percy Weasley doesn't believe in fairytales.
Foolish, fable nonsense his siblings gobbled up like food, requesting for an extra serving of stories before bed.
Nonsense his older brothers were fixed on, the woes and setbacks to one character in their struggles being the blueprint for their ridiculous games that were always bound to get them in trouble.
Not him, thank you. Sure his mother's enthusiasm came quite strong whenever she spun tales of mermaids, pirates, and genies added an extra layer of whimsical. Sure, it was nice to have that there was something magical in the mundane, a special charm only the worthy can see.
Then he grew into a practical realist, one who preferred to live and read by the practical.
At least until he came across her, the siren.
Initially Percy's morning plans was just staying under the warm forte that was his small bed, curled up with his recent read he was close to finishing. His plans then changed when his mother charged into his room, mercilessly stripped the blankets off him, exposing him to the freezing morning air, and ordered him to get wood for the fire. Fred, who usually was tasked with the chore, mysteriously fell ill and was unable to do it.
Yet someone the heathen mustered enough energy to throw a smirk Percy's way, waving from his spot on the couch, after Bill thrust their rusty axe into Percy's shoulders and he got shoved out into the cold.
Now here he was, cold and tired, awakened at the crack of dawn. Clutching an ax with a blade so dull, it would take hours to spare up decent cuts. Led astray by the piss-poor map George had drawn for him, conjured up by vague memory and second-guesses.
Damn you, Fred, Percy mentally screamed as he trekked through another steep step. Damn you, George!
It was if the Gods above decided to show some mercy on him. That was the only explanation for her presence. What else could explain why he was gifted by such a beautiful sight?
Percy had taken a misstep, nearly stumbling into a thick forte of thick bushes and low branches that scraped his skin, and came into a clearing with lower bushes and few trees. Beyond them was a lake with a figure standing in the middle of the water, her back turned to him as she faced the sun.
Too far away to make out her features with him hidden behind a tree, but enough to take in certain details. Close enough every slope and dip of her curves, the sides of her bare breasts. Close enough to notice how the sun's early morning rays turned her tanned skin into a soft golden brown. Close enough to make out the various scars, thin and thick, littered across her back, each one carrying a story he was aching to uncover.
A spider-web of scars in various sizes, some so grotesque his stomach nearly hallowed out by the sight. It was the droplets dripping down her bare skin and curves that pushed away the nausea and invited a feeling, heavy and hot, to slither inside his stomach like a snake in the grass.
Her slender hands ran through soft lapping waves, cupping the water in both palms before pouring it over herself. Her head, her shoulders, her sides. Each touch thorough and slow, adding more weight to the sensation in his stomach, more heat to the fire burning between his legs.
Mouth dry, Percy inched closer to the sight.
Her black hair clung to her skin, plastered over her shoulder, down her back. Those hands gripped onto it and squeezed, causing more water to rain over her body.
Percy couldn't help wondering about a different pair of hands on her. His hands touching her, holding. Her back pressed against him, skin to skin, where she'd felt the evidence of what she had done to him, his want heavy and thick. His hands brushed her away from her neck before he pressed a trail of soft kisses against her nape. His hands would then run across her chest, down her hips, his fingers dipping into her sweet, tight-
"What are you doing?"
The question was like a bucket of ice water pouring over his head, soaking him to the bone. Instantly Percy became aware of his conspiring position, leering from the tree, his zipper down and hand dangerously close to his cock that was already leaking.
Blushing fervently, Percy willed the hardness away with images of cold baths, cow muck in their barn, the rotten eggs the twins stuffed into his shoes the morning before. When he was sure that he was somewhat decent, he zipped back up his pants, removed his hand, and pasted on his best smile before he turned around.
To meet the hard, frigid glare of the person behind him.
Percy stumbled back, nearly bashing his head into the tree bark, heart lunged straight to his throat. He grasped onto the bark and took in several long, hard breaths to shove it back to its proper place.
She was a child. A young child, though her short stature made it hard for him to figure out an age. If he were forced to do so, he would possibly place her as six years old, seven at most if he was being generous. Even so, that didn't settle easily with him.
For one, it seemed almost unnatural for someone so young to be so striking. A face that was almost unnaturally, painfully captivating with wide-set eyes colored a mystic ice-blue gray with thick lashes. Ringlets of ink-black curls escaping from her loose braid. Even her plain white tunic and brown slacks somehow heighted her beauty, like a lost-princess in disguise.
For another, it was unfitting for such a young child to carry a glare like that. Cold and flat, too stony to make out the thoughts swirling inside her head.
She raised a cool, dark brow at him, and Percy realized with searing-red mortification burning his face that he had been staring at her.
"Hello, little girl," He tried reeling back in his smile. "You seem to be-"
"What are you doing?" she repeated again, firm as stone.
Percy's smile faltered as a spark of irritation threatened to crack through his calm exterior. Biting it down, he tried a different tactic, eyeing the lone woods expanding before his eyes. "You must've come a long way. Don't you have somewhere else to be-"
"You were staring at Mother." It wasn't a question. It was a fact.
Mother? The word alone made shock nearly barrel over him.
He stared another glance at the beauty. She was still in the middle of the water, only now her naked body was covered in a thin white sleeveless dress that was soaked through, twisting her hair dry. He was given a side-profile gaze at her. As predicted, she was beautiful- even more than she thought. She was young, possibly around his sister's age. And-oh-oh!
Same waves of inky-black curls. Same golden-tanned skin.
Then, as if she sensed his presence even with the distance stretched between them, she turned around and cut him with emerald-green eyes that practically glowed by the bright light. Percy quickly averted his eyes and was met by those stony blue-gray eyes.
A strange light crossed her eyes, causing the left corner of her mouth to lift up. "You were looking at her."
How could such a voice sound so sweet and so poisonous at the same time?
Percy's face flushed a dark red, mortification sharpening to anger. He was a grown man. He was not going to be intimidated by anything, not his brothers. And certainly not a strange child. "And what if I was?"
Her ghost of a smile disappeared in an instant and her sweet face hardened to stone. "No one is supposed to look at Mother. No one but Father that is."
Percy scoffed. Irritation flashed in those cool gray eyes and he took sweet satisfaction in cracking through that cool exterior. He leaned in close and cut her a mocking smile. "Well, I just did. So what, may I ask, are you going to do about it?"
She stared at him, face expressionless, eyes unreadable. His original glee at her chipped armor became a faded memory as those eyes grew lighter, glowing bright starlight, her pupils a black hole he falling further and further in. Until he could barely feel his limbs, the ground beneath his feet, as he dragged deeper down the more those eyes glowed.
"Father," called out in a sing-song voice. So sweet, so softly he barely heard it. Yet loaded with a power that sent him reeling back, slamming his back against the bark.
For a moment, fear snatched his heart and breath in an instant, leaving his body cold. Swallowing, he tried to push back fear swelling inside him.
The demon's smile returned, small and vicious, as if she knew the fear she planted and enjoyed it. Proud of it.
It was the sight of that smile, one he daily saw from his family members anytime he stood out from their simple-minded ways. The noblemen and women who peeked at him from the curtains of their carriages, barely concealing their snickers as they examined him head to toe, marking off the various ways that made him an outsider. His cheap shoes, his hand-stitched clothes, the nudges of dirt and grime he could never rub off. A smile that was pitying, too satisfying, and made fury spark inside his chest.
"Why you little-" He raised his hand and stepped forward.
And was instantly pulled back by a hand grasping onto the back of his neck. His raised hand twisted to an excruciating angle before being pinned to his back. Sharp nails dug into his skin, crimson drops rolling down his neck. His fury quickly fading to smoke as fear smashed through, growing more and more in ferocity as a cool, amused voice whispered into his ear.
"Now what on earth do we have here?"
Dear God. Dear God. Dear God.
"He was looking at Mother," said the little girl, starlight eyes fixed on him.
"I was-" He tried to speak, but the hand around his neck squeezed, caving in his throat.
"Was he now?"
She nodded, her black curls bouncing fervently.
Heart beating fast, Percy struck a peek at his attacker.
The man looked around his age, maybe a year or so younger. Armed with a frigid-chilled beauty that was better suited for a prince in an ice kingdom. Hair so light, it was nearly gleaming white, sharp cheeks and a sharp chin that reeked of royalty, and the same chilling blue-gray eyes as the little girl's. Intent with the same knife-sharp focus. Same frosty exterior that froze whatever part in his body wasn't trembling into solid ice.
The prince, the monster, the devil- whoever he was- stared at Percy long and hard before a smile touched his face. A ghost, razor smile that made fear weight down in his stomach like lead.
"Lyanna, my heart," he said, his voice silken-smooth. "Go see your mother. I'll take care of things."
She skipped over to him, arms behind her back, in the picture perfect display of childlike innocence. "I did well?"
He spared her a fond smile that cracked the malicious front. He released the hand caging Percy's broken wrist to pat her head. "Extraordinary well, my little huntress."
Those words brought a sweet smile to her face.
"Now go see your mother."
She nodded once and looked over at Percy. The sweet smile remained on her face, but the dark viciousness that gleamed in her eyes somehow darkened.
Dead meat, those words seemed to sing before the look was replaced by a warm brightness as she raced out of the woods and onto the shore.
"Mama! Mama!" she happily cried.
Come back. Come back! Percy wanted to scream, but the grip on his throat made the words their prisoner, resulting in a pitiful whimper.
"What's wrong?" teased the man. "I thought you were fine with watching."
His damning mermaid, still knee deep in the water, turned over. The same unreadable mask that was a mirror to her daughter's broke own face into a wide, bright smile as she opened her arms, accepting the hug that was sprung on her.
Her face was so radiant, so full of love as she swung her miniature copy onto her hip. Her smile added an extra layer to her beauty, making it so grand it was almost devastating.
As devastating as the pressure crushing his throat, his jaw.
"Suppose I can't blame you for staring," continued the dark prince. "My Red is truly stunning."
Red? The name was like a distant bell ringing in his head. He heard that name somewhere, but the pain made it hard to concentrate on anything else but the vice-like grip on his neck.
"Unfortunately for you, dear fool," More pressure was added to the grip and Percy felt his teeth caving in. "I don't tolerate vultures trying to seek what is already mine."
The last word broke into a growl, his eyes burning like hellfire, fanged canines growing from his mouth.
Dear God.
Dear God.
Dear God!
All the stories his mother had told them flooded his head. Hunters and farmers alike wandering into the woods and returning as corpses, mangled beyond recognition. A long-forgotten prince turned beast, becoming a creature of nightmares. His companion was always near, perhaps a step ahead or behind but never far. A vision dressed in bloodied red.
Little Red. She was the bride of the devil. And he was-
Dear sweet father above, what had Percy done?
Futile as it was, instinct snapped inside him, urging him to kick and hit wildly even if it barely fazed the creature. To claw and fight, even if it barely landed a blow, as the hand around his neck grew tighter, sealing his screams in between clamped jaws and teeth.
Percy's eyes darted around wildly, fighting off the black dots expanding before his eyes. He needed something, anything. A weapon. A miracle. Mercy. His eyes locked with his siren from the water. For a moment he was lost in the intensity of her beauty, in her electric-green eyes.
Help me! Percy wanted to scream. Help me! Save me!
A small smile splashed across her lips like a bud blooming into a flower.
Help me! He tried to say but everything was too tight. Everything ached.
A rose suddenly appeared in front of her, bloodied red and fully-bloomed to perfection. She brought the flower over to her lips and placed a kiss against it, like she was sealing a promise or a farewell. Then held the flower out, as if she were presenting a gift.
It was the last thing Percy saw before his world was torn apart by sharp claws and teeth.
Laughter ran through the branches of the rose field as the little girl spun in a circle, arms stretched out to the sky that rained down silken petals onto the ground. By the side of the meadow, Aria lounged against one of the small hills, watching her little girl dance.
"Mama!" Lyanna screamed. Not from fear, but the need to always have her near.
"Right here, my heart." Aria waved over to her.
Grinning, Lyanna spun around once more and raced over to the small tower of petals, sorting through in the hunt for the best one. It had been a game between them since before she could walk. Shatter across the field in hunt of the best petal. The prettiest one. The brightest red. The one smoothest to the touch. Whichever ones passed the inspection earned a spot in Lyanna's own collection of rose petals, kept safe in her room.
Aria sighed in contentment, closed her eyes, and settled her head back, letting the sun's warm rays kiss her skin. Through the warm, almost sleepy haze, came a sudden breeze that sent shivers up her spine.
She felt soft lips press against the back of her neck, sweet and lingering.
"I take it you had a fun hunt," she asked, not even opening her eyes as she was lifted up from her resting place and settled down onto a lap.
His answer came in the former of another kiss to her neck, right on the base of her pulse that quickened underneath his touch. A fact he quickly noticed, chuckling into her ear, his warm breath causing her to shiver.
She only opened her eyes when arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a solid, warm chest, and felt another kiss to her temple. She looked into a familiar pair of blue-gray eyes that were pure ice to anyone else who met them yet warm each time they met hers.
He tried to shrug it off, but Aria knew Draco well. The curl of his lips revealed the vast entertainment he took in tearing the poor fool apart. "The little worm didn't even make it halfway through. Though he did make wonderful screams."
She remembered those screams following her as she led Lyanna away from the lake once she was done washing, growing fainter until they fell to silence. She hummed as she twisted her body until they were face to face. "Screams, I have no doubt you took great pleasure in wringing out."
"Pleasure? Yes? Great however?" A wolfish grin spilt his mouth. "I can think of better alternatives." One of his hands glided down from her waist to her bum, giving a cheek one firm squeeze.
She bit down on her lip and tried to focus on the sting of her mouth instead of the one planted on her arse, refusing to give him satisfaction.
"Also," he went on. "I'm afraid I can't take all the credit. I had some help."
They looked over at their daughter, who was already quick at work collecting her rose petals.
"She spent the whole walk telling me how she protected us from the big, bad man," Aria grabbed both of his hands and placed them over her stomach, over the small bump that was barely noticeable. Draco laced their fingers together and tightened his grip on her.
"A fierce protector," Aria announced with a smile. "Just like her father."
"And a bold huntress," Draco countered. "Just like her mother. As will our second child."
"He."
Draco arched a questioning brow.
"I was right the first time around, wasn't I?" She reminded.
Draco rolled his eyes, but Aria spotted a small smile tugging at his mouth.
What a pairing they made. The Devil's Beasts and his bride. The Wolf and Red. She wondered about the stranger who had been leering at her and what he might have thought seeing them. The impending doom he unknowingly walked into and the fate he was met. Her lack of concern of his doubtlessly painful end.
She wondered when it was that her own lack of inner empathy was born. How was it she came to be so neutral when it came to violence? Was it at the hands of her horrendous relatives? Was it through the hypocritical words of the priest who preached on familial bonds yet turned his eye to the scars on her body? The abuse she daily faced? Was it when she was sure she was going to meet her hand, another hell in place of her past one, and was offered a hand with a wicked smile?
She thought about it. Then she heard the sweet laughter of her daughter as she explored her roses. Felt their unborn child growing inside her. The steady heartbeat of her beloved beating against her and the soft smile he gave her.
No, she concluded. It wasn't lacking empathy that brought on her nonchalance, but love and loyalty. However dark, however tainted.
Like her dark prince, like her brave daughter, she would do what she must to protect her family. To ensure their home remained their safe haven.
Unlike her daughter, though, the next time a stranger decided to pry into their private home, she wouldn't wait for Draco. She would let the jagged edge of her knife be the judge and executioner for her.