6. Darius
6
Darius
T he first light of dawn crept through the windows of the study, and Darius allowed himself a moment of quiet contemplation as he gazed at the sprawling view below. The city was his greatest achievement, a shining example of the integration of humans and demons under his rule. As the sun climbed higher, the streets began to fill with life, a harmonious blend of two worlds that had once been at war.
A soft knock at the door interrupted his musings. “Enter,” Darius commanded.
Clarence stepped in with a bow. “Your Grace, I’ve brought your morning reports and correspondence.”
Darius nodded, moving to his desk. “Thank you, Clarence. Has there been any word from the Aldercrest party?”
“They’re expected to arrive within a few days, Your Grace,” Clarence replied, placing a stack of papers on the desk.
Darius felt a flutter of anticipation in his chest, quickly suppressed. “Very well. That will be all.”
As Clarence bowed and left, Darius settled into his chair, reaching for the first report. He tried to focus on the words before him, but his mind kept wandering to Robin. Unable to resist, he reached out with his magic, connecting with Starling’s consciousness.
Through the bird’s eyes, he saw Robin stirring from sleep. The boy’s long hair was tousled, his emerald eyes still heavy with exhaustion. As Robin stretched, his nightgown slipped off one shoulder, revealing a tantalizing expanse of creamy skin. Darius felt a surge of desire, quickly tamped down.
He watched as Robin fumbled with his gown, muttering curses under his breath that would make a sailor blush. The boy’s clumsy attempts to dress himself were both amusing and endearing. Darius found himself chuckling softly, a sound that would have shocked his underlings had any been present to hear it.
A booming knock at the door jolted Darius back to his surroundings. He didn’t need to ask who it was; only one person in the castle would dare to announce their presence so boldly.
“Come in, Ignis,” Darius called, schooling his features into their usual impassive mask.
The door swung open with unnecessary force, and Ignis strode in, his fiery presence filling the room. “Darius, my friend! Surely you’re not planning to spend such a beautiful day cooped up in here?”
Darius raised an eyebrow. “Some of us have responsibilities, Ignis. We can’t all spend our days carousing.”
Ignis clutched his chest in mock offense. “Carousing? Me? I’ll have you know I’ve been very responsibly sampling the local taverns. For diplomatic purposes, of course.”
Despite himself, Darius felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward. “Of course. How thoughtful of you.”
“Now then,” Ignis said, clapping his hands together, “shall we take a stroll? You look like you could use some fresh air.”
Darius glanced at the stack of reports on his desk, then back at Ignis’ expectant face. With a sigh, he nodded. “Perhaps you’re right.”
As they stepped out into the sunlight, a dark shape began to emerge from Darius’ shadow. It coalesced into a massive hound, its fur as black as the void, with eyes that glowed like embers.
“Ah, Umbra decides to join us,” Ignis chuckled. “Hello, you old devil.”
Umbra’s tail wagged, belying its fearsome appearance. As they walked through the castle grounds and into the city proper, the hound’s form began to shift, shrinking and softening until it resembled a playful puppy. Citizens gasped and pointed, children giggling as Umbra romped through the crowd, its tongue lolling out in a doggy grin.
“Your hound never ceases to amaze me,” Ignis remarked. “A creature of shadow that loves nothing more than frolicking in the light.”
Darius watched Umbra with fondness. “He’s full of surprises. Much like this city.”
And indeed, Lunaria was a city of surprises. As they walked through the bustling streets, Darius marveled at how far they’d come. Demon artisans displayed intricate magical artifacts alongside human craftsmen’s more mundane, but no less impressive, creations. The air was filled with the mingled scents of human and demon cuisines, creating an aroma that was at once familiar and exotic.
In the main square, a group of young demons and humans were engaged in a lively game of Shadowball, a sport that had emerged from the blending of their cultures. Umbra yipped excitedly, darting between the players’ legs and earning laughs from the spectators.
“Your Grace!” a voice called out. Darius turned to see an elderly human woman approaching, her wrinkled arms cradling an assortment of vibrant flowers. “A gift for you and your esteemed guest,” she said, her voice quavering with age but strong with purpose.
Darius accepted the flowers with a nod, noting the lack of fear in the old woman’s rheumy eyes as she met his gaze. Instead, there was a mixture of respect, curiosity, and even a hint of grandmotherly affection.
“Thank you, good woman,” Darius said, his deep voice softened slightly. “Your kindness is appreciated.”
As they continued their walk, Darius found his mind wandering once again to Robin. Unable to resist, he reached out with his magic, connecting with Starling’s consciousness. Through the bird’s eyes, he saw Robin attempting to eat breakfast in the moving carriage, a comical endeavor that was quickly turning into a disaster.
The boy sat perched on the edge of his seat, a plate of eggs and toast balanced precariously on his lap. His hair was tied back in a messy braid, wisps escaping to frame his face. As the carriage jolted over a bump in the road, Robin’s fork missed his mouth entirely, smearing egg across his cheek.
“Oh, bother,” Robin muttered, reaching for a napkin. But as he dabbed at his face, the plate tilted, sending a shower of toast crumbs down the front of his gown.
Darius watched, amused, as Robin’s face scrunched up in frustration. The boy set the plate aside and began brushing at his chest, only succeeding in working the crumbs deeper into the folds of the fabric.
With a huff of exasperation, Robin glanced around the carriage. Seeing that he was alone, he began to unfasten the front of his gown, muttering under his breath about “blasted dresses” and “impractical fashion.”
As the gown fell open, Darius felt his breath catch. Robin’s chest was exposed, pale and smooth, with just the barest hint of muscle definition. His nipples, small and pink, pebbled in the cool morning air.
Robin, oblivious to his unseen observer, ran his fingers along his chest, brushing away the crumbs. His touch was innocent, practical, but to Darius, it was unintentionally sensual. The demon lord felt his blood stir, a heat rising within him that had nothing to do with the morning sun.
As Robin leaned forward to shake out his gown, a stray beam of sunlight caught his hair, turning it to spun gold. For a moment, he looked utterly ethereal, a vision of beauty that took Darius’ breath away.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, the moment passed. Robin fastened his gown, still grumbling about the impracticality of his disguise. He reached for his plate once more, determined to finish his breakfast despite the challenges.
Darius withdrew from the connection, his heart racing. He found himself both amused by Robin’s clumsiness and aroused by his unconscious sensuality. It was a potent combination, one that left the demon lord feeling off-balance in a way he hadn’t experienced in centuries.
“You seem flushed, my friend,” Ignis’ voice broke through Darius’ reverie. “The walk too strenuous for you?”
Darius shot his friend a withering look. “Hardly. I was just… considering the day ahead.”
Ignis raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him, but chose not to press the issue. As they continued their tour of the city, Darius found his thoughts continually drifting back to Robin, to the sight of his bare chest in the morning light, to the innocent sensuality of his movements.
The bustling streets of Lunaria provided ample distraction, with merchants hawking their wares and street performers entertaining the crowds. Yet Darius found his attention wavering, his mind repeatedly reaching out to connect with Starling’s consciousness.
It was during one such moment of distraction that Darius witnessed a scene that would be seared into his memory for days to come. Robin had snuck away from the caravan, finding a secluded stream for a much-needed bath. Through Starling’s eyes, Darius watched as the boy shed his cumbersome gown, revealing his slender form in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees.
“Oh, how I long for a proper bath.” Robin sighed, dipping a toe into the cool water. “With hot water and scented oils… lavender and rose petals floating on the surface.” He paused, a shadow crossing his face. “I wonder if I’ll be allowed such luxuries in the demon lord’s castle… that is, if I’m not eaten first.”
Robin laughed nervously, the sound carrying a hint of genuine fear. “Though I can’t imagine I’d be very delicious. I’m all skin and bones, hardly a morsel worth devouring.”
As he spoke, Robin waded into the stream, the cool water causing him to shiver. Goosebumps rose on his skin, and Darius found himself captivated by the sight. Water droplets clung to Robin’s body, catching the sunlight and making him appear to shimmer like a mirage.
The boy’s hair, now free from its braid, clung to his slender shoulders and back. As Robin ducked under the water and resurfaced, rivulets ran down his chest, drawing Darius’ gaze to the pink nipples that had pebbled in the cool air.
Darius felt a surge of desire so strong it nearly broke his concentration. Robin was ethereal, a vision of innocent beauty that stirred something primal within the demon lord. The contrast between the boy’s delicate features and the strength evident in his lithe muscles was intoxicating.
As Robin began to wash, his hands moving over his body with practical efficiency, Darius found himself entranced. Each movement, though innocent in intent, seemed charged with an unconscious sensuality that set Darius’ blood aflame.
It took every ounce of Darius’ considerable willpower to withdraw from the connection, his breath coming faster than usual. He blinked, finding himself back in the bustling streets of Lunaria, Ignis looking at him with concern.
“You seem distracted,” Ignis observed as they paused to watch a street performer breathe fire. “Is something amiss?”
Darius shook his head, struggling to regain his composure. “Not at all. Just… contemplating the changes coming to Lunaria.”
Ignis grinned, elbowing Darius playfully. “Ah yes, your bride’s arrival. Nervous?”
“Hardly,” Darius replied, but inwardly, he felt a turmoil of emotions. Desire, anticipation, and a strange protective instinct warred within him. Robin’s fear of being devoured bothered him more than he cared to admit. He found himself wanting to reassure the boy, to show him that life in the demon lord’s castle could indeed include lavender-scented baths and other luxuries.
As they continued their tour, Darius made a conscious effort to engage with the city and its people, determined to push thoughts of Robin aside, at least for now. However, as the day wore on, he found it increasingly difficult to maintain his focus. Even as he attended to his duties—meeting with city officials, inspecting the new wing of the library, and sitting for a portrait commissioned by the city council—his mind kept drifting back to the boy who would soon be his bride.
When night fell, Darius retired to his private chambers, dismissing his servants with a wave. As soon as he was alone, he reached out once more to Starling, curious to see how Robin was faring on his last night before arriving in Lunaria.
What he saw made his heart clench unexpectedly. Robin was in the throes of a nightmare, tossing and turning in his small bed in the carriage. Through Starling’s keen hearing, Darius could make out the boy’s whimpers.
“No… please… don’t eat me…”
When Robin woke with a scream, Darius felt an unexpected pang in his chest. He listened as the woman, whom he had come to know as Meredith through his constant observations, comforted Robin.
“Oh, you poor dear,” Meredith cooed, stroking Robin’s hair. “Was it the demon again? Don’t you worry, I’ve got a foolproof plan for escape.”
Darius leaned forward, intrigued despite himself. Over the past days, he had learned not only Meredith’s name but also those of Bernard, her husband, and Russet, Robin’s loyal canine companion.
“We’ll disguise ourselves as traveling minstrels,” Meredith declared, miming playing a lute. “With Russet as our dancing bear and Starling as our magical singing bird!”
Darius couldn’t help but chuckle at the old woman’s imaginative, if impractical, plan. He had grown oddly fond of Meredith’s protective nature and fanciful ideas, even as they were aimed at thwarting his own plans. The nursemaid’s devotion to Robin was evident, and Darius found himself grateful that his bride-to-be had such steadfast support.
Yet as he pictured the absurd scene of Robin and Meredith disguised as traveling minstrels, his amusement quickly gave way to frustration. The persistent rumors about his monstrous nature were clearly causing Robin genuine distress, and Darius found himself increasingly bothered by this fact. It wasn’t just the boy’s nightmares; it was the constant fear, the wild escape plans, the trembling he could see even through Starling’s eyes.
A newfound determination settled over him. He would dispel these myths, show Robin the truth of who he was. The challenge of winning over his frightened bride appealed to Darius in a way he hadn’t anticipated. It would require patience, subtlety, and perhaps a gentleness he wasn’t sure he possessed. But as he watched Robin through Starling’s eyes, comforted by Meredith’s presence, Darius knew it would be worth the effort.
As dawn broke, Darius watched as an exhausted Robin prepared to enter Lunaria. Dark circles marred the boy’s beautiful face, and Darius felt an unexpected urge to comfort him. With reluctance, he broke the connection with Starling, knowing he had duties to attend to.
Rising from his bed, Darius began his morning routine, his movements precise and efficient despite the distraction of his thoughts. As he dressed in his formal attire—a kaftan of deepest black adorned with intricate gold motifs that seemed to shimmer and move in the light—his mind wandered to Robin. How close was the boy now? Had he entered the city yet?
Darius found himself pausing at windows as he made his way through the castle, scanning the horizon for any sign of the approaching caravan. He attended to his morning duties—reviewing reports, meeting with advisors—but his attention was divided, part of him always alert for news of Robin.
As the morning wore on, Darius’ anticipation grew. He paced in his study, eyes flicking frequently to the door, expecting at any moment to hear the announcement of the Aldercrest party’s arrival. Finally, a knock came. Darius straightened, composing his features into a mask of calm authority. “Enter,” he commanded.
A servant stepped in, bowing low. “Your Grace, I bring news. Sir Calibor and his team have been sighted escorting the Aldercrest caravan through the city gates.”
Darius felt a surge of excitement, which he quickly suppressed. “Very well.”
As the servant hurried away, Darius allowed himself a small predatory smile. The game was about to begin in earnest, and he found himself looking forward to every moment of it. Yet as he prepared to leave his study, a thought struck him. Why rush to the great hall when he could observe his bride unawares?
With this new plan in mind, Darius strode out of his study, his steps purposeful as he made his way through the castle corridors. As he turned a corner, he nearly collided with Ignis, who was on his way to fetch him.
“Ah, Darius!” Ignis exclaimed, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “I was just coming to escort you to the great hall. Shall we?”
Darius’ lips curved into an enigmatic smile. “A slight change of plans, my friend. Care to join me for a bit of… reconnaissance?”
Intrigued by his friend’s unusual behavior, Ignis fell into step beside Darius. “Reconnaissance? Aren’t we supposed to be greeting your bride in the great hall?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“In due time,” Darius replied. “First, I want to observe. There’s much to be learned from first impressions, especially when the observed doesn’t know they’re being watched.”
Together, they made their way through the castle corridors. The anticipation of seeing Robin for the first time, even from afar, quickened Darius’ pace. Their destination was a small room overlooking the courtyard, offering a perfect view of the arriving party. As they entered, Darius positioned himself at the window, his eyes scanning the scene intently. Ignis joined him, his own curiosity evident on his face as he peered out at the courtyard below.
They didn’t have to wait long before the sound of hoofbeats and wheels announced the arrival of the Aldercrest party. The vehicle rolled into the courtyard, coming to a stop with a gentle lurch. Sir Calibor stepped to open the door.
Darius leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on the carriage door. Ignis, sensing his friend’s intense focus, remained silent, his own gaze darting between the scene below and Darius’ face. The air in the small room seemed to thicken with anticipation as they waited for the first glimpse of Robin.
A moment of stillness passed, broken only by the soft neighing of horses and the murmur of the gathered crowd. Then, with a creak of hinges, the carriage door swung open. Darius felt his muscles tense, his keen eyes not missing a single detail of the unfolding scene.
Darius’ breath caught as Robin emerged from the carriage. The boy was even more breathtaking in person than through Starling’s eyes. His hair, caught in the sunlight, looked like spun gold. The elaborate gown he wore, while clearly uncomfortable for him, accentuated his slender frame in a way that made Darius’ mouth go dry.
“Well, well,” Ignis whistled appreciatively. “Your bride is quite the beauty, Darius. A bit on the slender side, though. And rather… flat-chested, isn’t she?”
Darius chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “Indeed,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving Robin.
Below, Robin was taking in the castle with wide, awe-filled eyes. Starling perched on his shoulder, her feathers ruffling in the breeze. At Robin’s feet, Russet pranced about, his tail wagging furiously as he explored this new environment.
As Sir Calibor guided Robin toward the castle entrance, the boy stumbled slightly, his foot catching on the hem of his gown. Darius found himself leaning forward, an instinctive urge to catch Robin surging through him. But the boy quickly regained his balance, a blush coloring his cheeks.
“Graceful as a newborn fawn,” Ignis commented dryly.
Darius watched as Robin’s hand fluttered to his collarbone, a nervous gesture that seemed to be an attempt to steady himself. The movement drew attention to the flatness beneath his bodice, a detail that might have given away his disguise to a more observant audience. Darius couldn’t help but smile at the unconsciously delicate nature of the gesture, so at odds with Robin’s true identity.
“Seems rather nervous,” Ignis observed. “Poor thing must be terrified of you, Darius.”
Darius’ smile faded slightly at this reminder of Robin’s fear. “Indeed,” he murmured, his determination to change that fear into trust growing stronger.
“Look at that dog,” Ignis said, pointing at Russet. The hound was alternating between excited exploration and protective hovering around Robin. “Seems more like a nursemaid than a guard dog.”
As if hearing Ignis’ words, Russet suddenly stood at attention, his ears perked and his nose twitching. He let out a low growl, causing Robin to pat his head soothingly.
“Spirited creature,” Darius observed. “Much like his master.”
They watched as Robin disappeared into the castle, Starling still perched on his shoulder and Russet trotting faithfully at his heels. Even from this distance, Darius could see the tension in Robin’s shoulders, the slight tremor in his hands.
“Well, my friend,” Ignis said, clapping Darius on the shoulder. “Shall we go meet your blushing bride? Or do you plan to admire from afar all day?”
Darius nodded, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, let’s go.”
With that, they left their vantage point and made their way through the castle’s winding corridors. Darius’ mind raced with possibilities, strategies forming and dissolving as he considered how best to approach his bride. By the time they reached the ornate doors of the great hall, Darius had composed himself, his face a mask of calm authority.
Moments later, Darius entered the great hall, Ignis behind him. Darius’ eyes were drawn immediately to Robin, who was turning in circles, a mix of awe and fear evident on his face, his gaze darting from one demon to the next. The boy was clearly overwhelmed by the imposing presence of Darius’ lieutenants.
As Darius approached silently from behind, he observed Robin’s trembling form. He could practically sense the wild rhythm of Robin’s pulse, a prey animal among predators.
Just as Robin blurted out, “Which one of you isn’t going to eat me?”, Darius materialized behind him. He watched, amused, as a ripple of laughter passed through his assembled lieutenants. Robin’s face burned with embarrassment, the blush creeping down his neck in a most enticing manner.
Sensing the new presence behind him, Robin spun around with the grace of a startled fawn. Darius’ breath caught as he finally beheld his bride up close. Robin’s chest rose and fell rapidly beneath the elaborate gown, his fear palpable.
Darius towered over Robin, acutely aware of how the boy had to crane his neck to meet his gaze. He saw the awe and fear in those emerald eyes as they took in his imposing stature, his broad shoulders, the rippling power barely contained beneath his skin.
“You must be Lady Robin Aldercrest, my bride,” Darius said, allowing a hint of amusement to play at the corners of his lips. He watched as Robin managed a nod, his breath hitching as he attempted a clumsy curtsy.
“Your Grace,” Robin squeaked out, his voice betraying his fear. “I am Robin Aldercrest, at your service.”
Darius’ gaze roamed over Robin, taking in every detail. From the top of his pale-blond head to the hem of his gown, Darius absorbed the sight of his bride. His eyes lingered on Robin’s chest, memories of the boy bathing in the stream flooding back, stirring his blood hot. The flatness there, so at odds with Robin’s disguise, awakened something primal within Darius.
He recalled Robin’s pale, smooth skin glistening with water droplets, the gentle curve of his collarbone leading down to a chest that was decidedly masculine in its leanness. Darius’ mind conjured the image of Robin’s small pink nipples, pebbled from the cool air, enticing in their innocence. A sudden, unbidden thought of tasting those nipples, of drawing them between his lips, sent a jolt of desire through Darius’ body.
Forcing his gaze upward, Darius locked eyes with Robin once more. The boy’s emerald eyes were wide with a mix of fear and something else—a curiosity, perhaps, that mirrored Darius’ own. His gaze drifted to Robin’s lips, soft and slightly parted in awe. Darius found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips, to feel them yield beneath his own. Would Robin taste as sweet as he looked? Would he tremble or melt into the kiss?
Darius quickly reined in these thoughts, reminding himself of the delicate game he was playing. Yet the desire lingered, a smoldering ember in the pit of his stomach, promising to ignite into something far more intense given the right fuel.
He watched as a strange heat bloomed beneath Robin’s skin, spreading like wildfire. He felt the tension between them, an invisible thread pulled taut. Robin looked both thrilled and terrified, his pulse visibly quickening.
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Darius could see the gears turning in Robin’s mind, frantically searching for something to say. And then, in a moment that would be seared into Darius’ memory, Robin blurted out, “Do demon lords prefer their brides rare, medium, or well-done?”
Darius’ eyebrows shot up in surprise, his lips parting slightly. He felt a chuckle building in his chest, amused and oddly charmed by Robin’s outburst. But before he could respond, he saw Robin’s knees buckling beneath him.
Without hesitation, Darius moved. In a swift, fluid motion, he caught Robin before he could hit the floor. The boy felt light in his arms, fragile and precious. Darius cradled him gently, acutely aware of the contrast between his own strength and Robin’s delicate form.
Just before Robin’s eyes fluttered closed, he looked up at Darius with a dazed expression. “My apologies, Your Grace,” he murmured. “I seem to have… fainted.” And with that, Robin’s head lolled back, consciousness slipping away.
Darius looked down at the unconscious boy in his arms, feeling a mix of concern and amusement. He couldn’t help but marvel at Robin’s ability to narrate his own fainting spell. He was vaguely aware of the surprised looks from Ignis and his lieutenants, but his focus was entirely on Robin.
“Well,” Ignis said, breaking the stunned silence, “I must say, that’s a novel way to greet one’s future husband.”
Darius adjusted his hold on Robin, cradling the boy closer to his chest. “Indeed,” he replied dryly. “Though I must admit, I’ve never had someone announce their fainting before actually doing so. My bride seems to have a flair for the dramatic.”
The scent of lavender and sunshine clung to Robin, an unexpected and alluring complement to the cold stone and dark magic of the castle. Darius found himself oddly charmed by this unconscious, candid boy in his arms.
“It seems my bride needs rest after her long journey,” Darius said and carried Robin out of the hall.