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Dove felt a cold, gnawing emptiness in himself. His home is no longer, now that he was sent away for his apprenticeship, his entire life will change, never to go back to normal. Many nights he only stared at the ceiling, mourning the loss of limbs and innocence, his puberty which has been tormenting him for years, his family back home. The bed soft and warm, it's fragrant and clean, yet it still doesn't compare.
Tricia is a renowned healer, she owns her practice, employing dozens of perfumers. This hospital is much better equipped than what he grew up with in Stormveil. He was given a real room in Tricias house in the upper capital, it wasn't at all like his old room. The meager belongings he had from his old life didn't do much to make it seem like his, but he supposed that he has the left of his life to make it so.
Tricia is kind, patient, generous. Even more so than the Aunts and Uncles who bid him farewell. They must have known Tricia was the best for him. And she is. She's a great teacher, incredibly intelligent, observant, Dove did love her. The tears she spent teaching him were full of good memories and well learned lessons.
On one morning, she sent Dove to the training grounds in the lower city to tend to minor injuries. There wasn't much to do, as everyone was wearing protection. Gambesons and chainmail were standard, the old veteran of Godfreys crusade who looked over the soldiers demanded them to be well equipped. Some old hardheads swore that the youth needed to learn how to suffer, to take it. They said it taught them in their youth to do better, but they are sorely mistaken. It's a shame to let good soldiers waste away in beds before they even see the enemies banners.
One boy, Dove noticed, was never in proper armor. Nobody said anything either, must be because he seldom got hurt. Dove thought that that is incredibly foolish. No matter how swift and dexterous he is, one day, he will get whats coming for him. The threat looms as a sword above him, ready to fall any second. He must have been a noble, as he was wearing a dark cloak embroidered with brilliant gold emblems, Dove had a hard time believing he could see very well with the hood always covering his face. He didn't understand, how someone so thin could be that strong, he looked like a stray breeze could blow him over. Oh but he fought, and beautifully at that, leaping this way and that like a dancing butterfly.
Dove was keeping watch on the practice shield formation. It's very uncommon for anyone to get hurt during this. All they did was practice switching places. The front row sunk low, the second one pushed their shield to the front to take their place, the back row became second row as the front row retreated to the back to regain their stamina.
Nobody is hitting anybody, so Dove was enjoying the shade of a plain stone building, sitting on the fence of the duel circle.
He almost jumped when someone hopped on the beam not too far from him. He dared to take a peek, pushing his veil out of his peripheral vision. Wouldn't you know it, it's the underfed daredevil himself.
"Oh, did you get hurt? My kit is in the armory, let's go!"
He was halted before he could even jump to his feet. He has very large hands, Dove noted. One hand wrapped all the way around his upper arm. "I'm not hurt."
"Is someone else?"
"Thine gaze, I noticed, doth linger on mine form overlong."
"I'm sorry. Couldn't help myself."
He huffed, clearly displeased. The firm grip of his hand lessened but he didn't let go. "And why am I of such interest?"
"I'm a healer, you're not wearing armor. Those shin guards won't do a thing if you make a mistake blocking a strike. And also... You are quite interesting to observe."
"Am I?" He looks irritated, but Dove has hope that he can crack him. All he needs is a bit of buttering up.
"You're handsome. And by far, you are the most skilled here. It's a joy to see the mastery!" He says this with a wide smile so that the stranger can hear it in his voice.
In the few straining seconds after Dove complimented him, the strangers face turned scarlet red. "I-umhh. Thank thee." Dove didn't notice how tense his shoulders were, but when he was released, he slumped back down into a comfortable position.
"You earned it. What's your name?"
"Messmer. I'm surprised thou didst not know."
"Sorry, I recently arrived from Stormveil Castle. Are you famous? Do you joust?"
"No, or... Perhaps yes. People know me. I am a knight. I don't joust. Horses don't enjoy mine company."
"A knight? At such a young age?" Dove scooted closer to him, observing his delicate features. His expression is tense, aging him, but he looks about as old as Dove.
"For my skill."
"Impressive. I'm a perfumer apprentice of Master Tricia."
"Noble calling." Messmer doesn't remember Tricia. It's been ages. His ailments are mostly taken care of by a physician of Raya Lucaria, as per the wishes of his father. Perfumers are too kind to the crucible touched, in Radagons opinion.
"So I've been told. There was never any other life for me."
"Why?"
"I was raised by perfumers."
"That doth make sense. My father was a great warrior, so I shall be one in his image."
"I'm sure you make him proud."
Messmer didn't say anything to that.
Dove didn't anticipate that anything would happen during this exercise, but one of the noble sons did accidentally cut his palm open on his own blade while trying to show it to his friends. Like a good boy, he ran with haste to the healer who kindly guided him into the armory to be treated. Messmer didn't follow. He just kept thinking about what he said.
Radagon will never be proud of him. He was left behind while his father had two other sons. Free of curses and afflictions. Born in holy matrimony and not the result of adultery. Rykard and Radahn were not stuck in limbo like him. It's too early to tell if Ranni would pick up a blade and make him proud, but even now, she made him happier than Messmer ever could.
...
It was a slow evening. Tricia rarely ate dinner with her perfumers, instead, she had it in his apartment with Dove. She knew he never had a normal family unit, and she knew that even now, after a whole life of it, that he didn't enjoy the dining hall in the hospital. She remembers him still, as a toddler prone to crying, afraid of being judged and seen. The dining hall in Stormveil was small and full of people he trusted and knew, here, it feels as if a new face shows up every week.
So here they are, eating their creamy soup with buttered bread, veils and aprons gone, wearing house clothes. He looked like he was chasing a runaway thought in his mind, she found the redness of his cheek very adorable. She supposed that it was only a matter of time before he fell in love, but that doesn't make her worry any less. For people like him, any relationship can go up in flames. Nobody knew what he was, only the perfumers and his grace, Godwyn.
"Tricia?"
"Yes, sweeting?"
"You've been staring at my face for a while. Is there something wrong?"
"Nothing. I just suspected you are developing a fever from the color of your cheeks."
"Oh."
"Did something happen today?"
"Sort of. Do you know who Sir Messmer is?"
"I do. He's Sir Radagons son. I used to treat him once upon a time. Is something up with him?"
"No." I just find him handsome, so I was fantasizing about something I'll never get to have. "I had the pleasure of talking to him for the first time today. He's an interesting figure." Dove couldn't stop his wide smile, so he tried to hide it behind his hands. He was not slick.
Oh no.
"I was hoping you would rather fancy ladies, but I won't judge you. Listen I know you like him, most people like him, and I know he's polite, but he is a man at the end of the day. You have more to lose than he does, so be careful."
Dove rolled his eyes, going back to jadedly stirring his soup.
"I'm serious."
"I know, but I'm not dumb. I've seen plenty of cruelty. He seemed kind at heart."
"You've spoken once."
"I like to think I have good judgment! I talk to a lot of people!"
"Of course you like to think you know everything! Nobody knows what they don't know! I have warned you, and I wouldn't like you to get hurt." Because you're my baby.
"I'd like you to trust me."
"And I do. That's why you may go to your practices unsupervised. But you are still young. Even someone my age has much to learn! Besides, he's much older than you, I know of his condition but still."
Dove sighed, slumping in his chair. "I'll keep it in mind, just so you can rest easy."
Tricia smiled. "You're a good kid. Thank you." After some awkward silence, she couldn't stand it anymore. "So. What kind of man had he become?"
"Well. He's incredibly skinny, but somehow he wins against people twice his size. He's very fast on his feet and he doesn't wear any armor. That's part of the reason I kept my eye on him. I thought that he'd get hurt for sure but it never came to pass."
Tricia scoffed. "I take it back. He's definitely not matured one bit!"
"He seemed very bothered by me staring at him. He confronted me. I was intimidated for a second there."
"Did you see his serpents? That's definitely why."
"...Serpents?"
"If you befriend him, you'll surely see them. Don't even mention them to him, he won't like it. Most likely, he will run off."
"He wouldn't run off! He's a knight! Knights are brave!" Dove gestured wildly with his hands, trying to express his frustration.
Tricia only smiled. "He can hold his own in a fight, but in conversation? Not so much." She remembers how Messmer clung to his serpents, hugging them to his chest. He was so scared of her! And to think that this timid child went on to slay giants? She can scarcely believe it. As he held his serpents, hey embraced him in kind. Tricia still remembers how Dove did the same with his tail, clutching it and playing with the tuft of fur at the end. Time flies, she thinks. Her sweet child is now all grown.
"Oh. That's understandable. If it's not so bold of me to ask, what is this condition he has?"
"He has many. The one I was treating him for was nascency. His development is stalled, he's been stuck as a child for ages. He did end up growing, slowly but surely. None of my treatments could speed it up, though. Radagon should find himself lucky that he had so much time to love the adorable boy he had. Sometimes I look at you and I can't believe my eyes. I feel like just yesterday I was still holding a babe."
Dove couldn't help but smile. Like any youth, he does feel smothered by his caretaker, but he's glad he never had to miss his mother. "Nascency. That is horrible. Can't imagine." Dove only ever read about it in textbooks, it's so rare there hadn't been a case in the hospital for his entire apprenticeship.
"It led him to become very lonely. His childhood friends all grew up while he was stuck as he was. It had it's benefits, though! A developing mind is open and flexible, he was granted hundreds of years to learn and practice the art of war. His mastery is like none other, unfortunately, he is quite impulsive. That is the downside of his condition. He is immature, no matter how experienced he may be. At least he was when I knew him."
"Poor thing."
Tricia sighed and reached across the table to hold his hands in hers. "Be very careful."
"He won't bite my head off."
"I should hope so!"
"Indeed, I had enough of me snipped off!" He cackled at his own morbid joke as his mentor scolded him. It's not funny, but if he won't laugh about it, he will cry instead. The tender night thereafter held him in her arms, the now familiar sheets of his bed embraced him.
...
Tricia didn't want to let him, but Dove volunteered for every practice session available that was on the training grounds. He was there all week, patching up foolish youths. It was quite unexpected, that on the seventh day he was there, Messmer got hurt.
Dove felt so smug for having predicted the inevitable.
As he was sparring with someone, Messmer lost his footing. Before he could get back into position, the opponents spear marred his side. He fell, groaning. The trainee dropped his spear and apologized. Messmer did pat him on the shoulder, reassuring him that this is just what happens sometimes. No bad blood.
The young Impaler limped to him, leaning on his spear, holding his side. He hit himself badly when he fell, the dirt underneath was soft, but he fell on his own weapon. Dove sighed, wondering how this alleged prodigy managed to stab himself twice at the same time.
"Come, let me help." Dove lead him to a chair inside. His kit was atop a table where two trainees were playing dice. They quieted down as they saw Messmer, not so subtlety keeping their eyes on the pair.
"I had a feeling this would happen. That's what you get for not wearing any protection." Dove pushed him into a chair and put on leather gloves over his usual ones. He pulled aside Messmers robes and pushed the curious serpents snout out of the way before taking a cotton wad to disinfect the wound. "Deep breath in and hold it." Messmer obeyed, barely containing the noises as the pain seared into him. The serpents slithered out of their hiding place, writhing and climbing all over him, tangling his sweaty hair. "Good. I'll give you something for the pain before I stitch this."
"Hath thou something for the pain all this time? And thou didst not think-"
"I forgot! I'm just an apprentice! Do you not recall?"
"No."
"Well then." Dove took out a container of uniform, dark green pills. He masterfully tipped the container just enough that one fell into Messmers palm. He immediately chucked it down his throat and swallowed it dry. "Now, now, Sir Messmer. We all know a good boy swallows without needing to be told, but I was going to give you water with that! Very well. Hold this to your side, you're bleeding all over yourself."
The trainees, emboldened by Doves casual teasing, start laughing. Messmer only stares at Dove with his sharp eye, keeping his opinion to himself about the situation he's in. He likes the attention, truly, but he's too proud to admit it.
Dove goes back to his kit and took out a small vial. He cracked the top off and held it out to Messmer. "This one is a fast acting one, the pill will take effect in about half an hour. This will make the stitches feel less painful."
"Good."
He gently tipped Messmers head back to let him breathe the mellow fumes in. It feels nice. Not the perfume, rather the gentle hand holding the back of his head. The texture of Doves glove was foreign, but welcome. His scalp tingled pleasantly.
The serpents went up to Doves arm and attempted to slither onto him, but Messmer quite aggressively grabbed them and pulled them back to himself. Dove pulled back as well, holding his hands up to signal that he won't hurt Messmer, who was quite agitated.
"Forgive me."
"It's alright, don't get worked up. Can we continue?"
"Of course."
Dove slowly reached for him and let him breathe the aromatic once more. The trainees looked on in silence, having a strange feeling about the pair. Messmer knew he would not hear the end of this, but it was worth it for the gentle touches. "Good. Now. Take the vial, if something hurts, breathe in just once. Not too much. You will be cognitively affected for a period of time, so don't overdo it."
Messmer and his serpents watched him as he threaded the needle, sanitized it and begin closing his jagged wound. He could barely feel it, thankfully. He needed all his senses on Dove. This won't happen again, most likely.
The stitches were not very pretty, but they held. Dove bandaged him up, then turned his attention to the much smaller wound from falling on his own spear. Dove thought the spear was very beautiful, but one of the many decorative spikes did just harm it's user. The second wound was not so serious, only two stitches and an adhesive patch was needed.
"There, all finished!" Dove removed his bloodied glove and took out a piece of candy from his bag. "Here, a reward for how brave you were!"
"Hey, you never gave me candy! That's not fair!" Chimed one of the trainees, earning a very stern look from Messmer.
"I like him, that's why I gave him candy! We're buddies! Aren't we, handsome?"
Messmer stared at him, wide eyed. What should he say to that? This is exactly what he wanted, so why is he so afraid? "Right."
The trainees were losing their minds, laughing, jeering, shaking each other's shoulders. He knew he will not get away, he did think the two of them would get to be alone. His peace is a fitting sacrifice for a maidens favor.
"Now, Sir Messmer. I recommend you go home at once. If I see you on the grounds tomorrow I'll have you know, I'll make you regret it!"
Lightheaded, from the aromatic most likely, Messmer smiled. This is probably the first time these people ever saw him smile. "Make sure, then. Thou couldst cometh by my side, see with thine eyes that I won't disobey thee?"
"So. A date?"
"Is that what thou doth desire?"
"Obviously." Dove said as he meticulously cleaned all the blood off of... basically everything. Messmer bled a lot.
"A date, then. We shall depart tomorrow."
"I'll be here at noon, so before that. I'll ask Tricia if I can leave for the morning. I'll send you a letter." As he was casually saying that, and as the trainees hearkened in awe, he packed everything up. The gauze, the needles and the pills. Everything used went into a hazard box to be put through the clave.
"Settled, then."
"Settled. You stay right here, I'm going back to keep watch on your comrades." Dove pushed the small vial of perfume into his hand, it now had a cork in its mouth. When did he even put that there? "Use it sparingly if you leave it open too long it will evaporate. And you will get inebriated from it."
The three of them watched on as the apprentice left the cool shade of the armory. There was a few beats of quet before the trainees began teasing Messmer for his masterful romantic conquest. Or more likely, for having been conquered.
...
Dove, giddy with excitement, rambled on and on about his impending date with Messmer. Ensis, the apprentice of another perfumer, graciously tolerated his endless rambling as he prepared the clave. Exactly four ounces of water went into the machine to top it off, then he began loading it up with scalpels, needles, tongs, tweezers and other such implements of torture. The other one is almost done cooling, the hourglass nearly finished next to it.
"Do you think he'll kiss me??" Dove was barely paying attention to what he was doing, almost cutting himself with the scalpel as he was cleaning dry blood off of it.
"No. I think he'll take you to church so you may find the love you seek in the Allmother."
"Come on, he cannot be so bad!"
"Oh, but he is. I've met him."
Dove sighed. "If he's so terrible, why does everyone love him?"
Ensis closed the lid of the clave and activated the rune to start heating it up. "Because he is a good man. He's just got all of his screws loose. He's honest, honorable, always ready to help... But..."
"But?"
"Mother dearest comes first. Always. Imagine your mother in law being Marika herself, our God. And if the rumors about you are true, then-"
"What rumors?"
"That you're... cursed. He won't like that you were born without his mothers blessings."
"But I was divested of my curses! I'm fine now! Besides, he's-" Dove caught himself before mentioning the serpents.
"He's what?"
"Nothing."
Ensis sighed. "He's a bastard, yes. But that's nowhere near as bad as what you were."
"...Don't talk about me like that, there's nothing wrong with me."
"The same way there's nothing wrong with an omen so monstrous that it cannot speak?"
"Exactly! If you are to be a perfumer you should understand that."
"Whatever! Just be careful with him. He used to hunt your kind, you know. Impaled them alive, like the giants."
"I'm a devout follower of the Allmother, always have been. I'm sure he will recognize that I'm bettering myself from my origins."
Ensis scoffed. "Whatever, fool." He undid the latch of the clave that's been left to cool. It wasn't left for long enough, hot steam spewed out of it, scalding Ensis and Dove.
Their screams alerted their supervisor and they were promptly taken to be treated. Theres no good place for accidents to happen, but the best is still in a hospital.
...
A dove flew to Godwyns window, carrying a small letter. It was penned by Tricia in her simplistic, unadorned handwriting. She has been sending word of him every few weeks, much to Godwyns enjoyment. The last letter came only a few days ago, so he found himself suspecting trouble.
He was right. With a heavy heart, he left his chambers in the early morning and walked with haste to the hospital. It's not a long walk, especially to someone as tall as him. His arrival was met with a few stares, but nobody said anything about what happened to Dove. Tricia saw him and barely greeted him before pulling him upstairs to the second ward. Upon entering through the door –which is thankfully high enough that he didn't need to bend over– he was met with a rather unexpected sight.
Messmer the Impaler, fearsome first born of Marika, sitting on the side of a humble perfumers bed and letting his hair be braided by gentle hands. He could almost laugh, if not for the horrible state Dove was in.
Bandages covered almost all the exposed skin of his arms. His hands, which were tenderly combining through his brothers hair, were thankfully unharmed. Next to his bed, a much more poorly person was laying. His head was almost completely covered in gauze and a perfumer was holding a doused cloth to his nose to sate his ache.
"Godwyn!" Dove called to him as he approached, letting go of Messmer's hair to reach for him with gloved hands.
"Whatever happened to you, sweeting?"
"Improper use of a clave. Ensis opened it too soon and we got steamed alive. I don't recommend. It's even more painful than a regular burn." Messmer remained silent, his cloak was draped on his head to keep his shy self from being seen too much. Godwyn, in lieu of a chair, knelt down on the floor opposite of him.
"I have no idea what a clave is."
"It is a pressurized chamber in which water is heated into steam to sterilize medical instruments. I doubt Tricia will let Ensis touch one for a long while." He pointed to the unconscious figure behind Godwyn. "I must say, he was rather distracted while he worked."
"To think that..." Messmer began softly. "That those were the very tools thou hast healed me with..."
"Don't feel bad. It's truly not fault of yours." Dove took his hand and cradled it in his own with a suspicious amount of affection. Godwyn had a feeling Messmers melodrama has been going on for quite some time. The sun is barely up afterall and he's already here. Messmer is ever the night owl.
"So, the two of you are friends. I didn't know that."
"Rather recent development." Messmer was barely audible, not even daring to look away from Doves bandaged arms. Perhaps he doesn't enjoy getting caught spending his precious time attending a commoner instead of praying or studying. Godwyn would never judge him, though.
"My apologies, I should have introduced the two of you. Now that I think about it, you two are alike in a miriad of ways."
"Are we really? Never would have thought I'm such a poorly healer that I'd get compared to the giantslayer!" Dove smiled sweetly. "I was under the impression that it's a classic case of opposites attracting."
"Attracting? Are the two of you...?"
"This was to be our first date. I was rather insistent in meeting him outside our duties. Wasn't I, sweetness?" Messmers face was red as wine.
"Rather insistent, truly."
"Oh!" Godwyn stood up, looking too happy. "Dear Brother! I shall leave you to it then! Duty calls anyway, I need to make preparations for my upcoming journey to Limgrave." He went to ruffle Messmers already messy hair. "Congratulations!"
"Thou shouldst do well to remember I'm the elder!"
"My mistake! Indeed, Messmer. You are older than dirt. Farewell, lovebirds!" He spun around, making his golden jewelry jingle within his braided hair. Messmer sighed deeply and hid his face in his free hand.
When the door was shut and they were alone with the other injured patients, Dove let out a little chuckle. When Messmer looked at him with his one eye, he sighed as well.
"Something has been tugging on my heart. I lied to you about something."
Messmer said nothing, instead, his loosening grip on his composure spoke for his emotions. One of his snakes poked it's head out of his cloak to look at Dove.
"I told you I was only recently brought to the capital from Limgrave, in truth I've been here six years. I didn't want to hurt your pride by saying I never heard of you."
Messmers shoulders slumped, no longer pulled tight by outrage. "Oh. I thought it would be a grand sin thou would profess. I must admit, in exchange for thine honesty, mine own err... My cowardly heart bid me to deceive thee, I wrought mine own hurt yesterday that thou might turn thine attention to me and care for me. I now know how foolish I was, and I had suffered a wound more grave than I anticipated. All for my lack of honest tounge and wavered bravery."
Dove blinked at him a few times. Messmer became more and more nervous by the second.
"I beg for thine forgiveness."
"I've never heard you speak so much in one go." The other snake poked just the tip of its snout out and tasted the air. Messmer manhandled them back into their place. "It was rather foolish of you, Sir Messmer. When I won't be under the influence of the medicine, I'm sure I'll be very angry about it. Now, I feel rather... Numb? Sappy? I simply don't care about anger. Thank you for admitting it."
"So dost thou forgive me?"
"I'll forgive you when I'm in my right mind. Be at ease now, for I will have your head come the time for it." Doves hand went on a short journey to the opening of Messmers cape. He felt smooth, hot scales quivering underneath his gloved touch. "Why is it that you don't wear armor? And be true now."
Messmer grunted, crossing his arms in his indignation. "I get hot."
"So does everyone."
"Not like everyone. It's... immense heat. Unbearable."
"Oh. Is it because of your... Your condition?" Dove whispered the last part, afraid someone might hear. He was almost completely surrounded by unconscious people, fortunately. Messmer only stared at him.
"I don't wish to discuss that."
"Oh. Forgive me... Oh no... I'm... I'm really sleepy..."
Messmer couldn't hold back a smile. "Why art thou at odds with sleep?"
"It's trying to take another minute spent with you from me." With a heavy lid on his lone eye he slowly blinked at the knight. His hands are drenched with blood. Maybe even that of the innocent. He didn't care, those hands felt like the sweetest boon on him. He wished Messmer would touch him more, anywhere, everywhere.
"Ever the flirt, even in such a state. I bid thee to succumb, it will do thee well in recovery."
"Will you return tomorrow?"
"Wilt thou rest if I say I shall?"
"Maybe."
Messmer sighed and put a hand to cover Doves eyes. "Sleep!" Dove giggled and tried to push him off, but his strength was nothing in the face of a demigod. "Sleep, sayeth I!"
"Alright! You won... I'm tired..."
"I shall stay by thine bed."
"Hmm Thank..."
Sleeps succor took him quickly. Messmers winged serpents slithered underneath his blanket to seek his scent. It was fine until it lasted, this peace in Messmers mind. Enjoyable it is, being wanted and adored, he hadn't felt much of this in his life... And he knows that it's because he doesn't deserve it.
Nothing Dove can do or say will change his mind.
...
The months they spent in each other's embrace were peaceful. Messmer's agony that his own existence caused felt lesser. He didn't measure himself against Dove like he did with his brothers or his fellow soldiers, he didn't feel the need. Dove was cursed, so was he, and he obviously was above Dove. He was a good son, obedient, strong, tireless. Dove talked back to Tricia, even to Godwyn sometimes, which he found appalling, but in the end it was a good thing. If Dove ever came to outshine him, he wouldn't be able to live with his worthlessness.
The sweet kisses on his neck felt good, the sounds he had caused to spill out of Dove were like songs to his greatness, their inside jokes, their small compliments to each other, they gave his life some meaning beyond service and worship. Marika didn't know, even Godwyn, who was most loved and least chastised by her didn't dare tell her. Dove patched him up when he was cut open and battered on the training grounds, gave a gentle kiss on top of his wounds before sanitizing them. After the first battle he survived, even Marika deemed him too grown for such comforts. Dove did it even though he knew Messmer got hurt on purpose. Even if Messmer was perfectly entitled to simply ask for a pampering, he rather wanted to earn it with his blood.
Messmer never stopped being that little boy that lost his mothers love. When he was made a demigod at the gate of divinity, witnessing horrors that are necessary for greatness, he became stuck. He cannot move on in spirit, just like when his feet refused to move then, as his loving mother disappeared in the blinding light, only to return as what she is now. Among the piles of dead and dying hornsent, in the city he spent most of his life, he is still trapped. He still wishes for the softness of her hands when they long turned to stone.
Dove is the very image of her, when she was still young and human. The same blonde hair, the same gentle words, his keen desire to see others flourish. It's just like the dreams he had in the encampment on the mountaintops of the giants, when he marched into battle with his father. He dreamed of a morning with her, their small home in Belurat, the breakfast she made before taking him back to the ruins of her village. It wasn't long after that, that she became God.
The hornsent deserve what is coming for them. They destroyed Marikas people, only sparing her because her son was 'blessed'. They gave her power, gave her lives. The fools that they are, to think she wouldn't want revenge. Messmer knows his purpose, he's spent his entire life trying to be worthy of it.
"Thou doth look deep in thought. Pay attention to thine feet, they'rt too close together." Godfrey said to him, kicking his thin legs apart. "Thou dost know better, son. Now, shoot." Messmer appreciated that he was accepted by the Lord as one of his own, but he never shook the feeling off of his back that he didn't deserve it. He used to cry himself to sleep when he couldn't make him proud, thinking he was stealing the favors he was granted freely. The lessons, the advice, the praise. He felt that he needed to work for it, he used to hate Godwyn for his perfection. Messmer had to toil tenfold just to feel good enough, while Godwyn was born without a single blemish. He now understands his stupidity, but only when it comes to Godwyn. The rest of his delusions are too firmly rooted in his fragile psyche.
Godfrey watched him pull the bowstring and miss the target. He could always tell something was gravely broken in the boys mind, but dared not mention it. He also didn't dare ask about the serpents. Marika usually becomes saddened at the mere sight of them. So does Messmer. Radagon... Godfrey knew him well, and something was definitely brewing in his mind when he gazed at his son, definitely not the love that this boy deserved.
He watched Messmer stomp his foot into the ground, failure burning him up. Archery is the one thing he isn't good at, he simply cannot tell how far the target is, not anymore, now that his eye was gouged out in battle. Messmer remembers, mortified, that he has an audience, and turns around to look at Godwyn and Dove, the latter of whom is graciously pretending to be entertained by gazing at the clouds. Messmer sighs, and tries again, only to miss yet again.
"You said you can see through the eyes of your serpents. Maybe that way you could hit it?" Godfrey rubs his eyes, while Godwyn only watches with bated breath for the outburst. It doesn't come, instead, with a face as red as his hair, he obliges.
The two familiars of the young Impaler slowly rise from the folds of his white toga. They lazily licked the air, gazing this way and that, one of them locking eyes with Dove, recognizing the young apprentice. Messmer couldn't tear it's gaze from him, so he took it's snout and moved it to face the target. He shoots again, this time, hitting the very edge of the outermost circle.
"That, son, is good progress. Thine companions help, it seemeth." Godfrey scuffed his hair up, messing with the neat braid he spent all morning figuring out how to do. That is also something his mother once did for him, to keep the waist long red tresses from catching on anything. Later, Radagon chose to cut it all off instead of teaching him how to braid. It caused public outrage when the boy left Leyndell with a crown fit for a prince, and returned from the war of giants shorn like a slave.
"Thank you." Godfrey smiled at him encouragingly, just as he had when he watched the boy shake, covered in blood from his first slaying.
"Again. Only practice maketh a warrior true."
Messmer tried again, much more confident and completely missed. He kicked the dirt, successfully wedging a pebble in his sandal.
"Now, don't get too full of yourself. Victory is never promised, give it just as much effort as the last!"
...
Theres a sweet fragrance to the air, of lilacs and honeysuckle. Dove is hugging Messmers waist, his veil gently tickling the back of his arm as the wind plays with it. The young Impaler sat in front of him, legs dangling off of the cliff, dangerously close to a big fall, the apprentice just behind him, keeping him from tumbling over the edge. It's honestly not a deadly height, Dove is just overly worried and Messmer just likes to fantasize about ridding his parents of himself.
He sighs, breathing in the incense sticking to his dearest loves clothes. He used to love coming out here, between the ramparts and the grand wall. He'd go on long walks and watch the birds, the deer and enjoy being alone. Nobody knows what he used to be, wings and tail long gone and their memory left in Limgrave, but he still feels like an outsider. He's become used to keeping his distance from normal people, especially kids his age.
Not anymore, he took along eith him his dearest, beloved Messmer. Finally someone who can truly understand him. The two of them walked side by side on the well worn path, outside the city, Messmer even let them hold hands. Here, under the shade of a linden tree, he took out the braid that Godfrey unintentionally messed up and redid it. Messmer has been quiet, must be from embarrassment. Dove was pleased, because until now, Messmer ran away and left him in the dust to sulk and weep alone.
"Mine Culver. May I inquire?"
"Of what, beloved?" Doves chin was resting on Messmers bony shoulder, but he said nothing about how much his jaw poking him hurt. His wretched, wiry thin form is adequate punishment for his failure earlier today.
"Thine hand is marked by a scar. Where doth a humble healer attain such injury? Didst an omen marr thee?"
"Oh!" Dove laughed, showing him his hands. "No, that's not it. I had claws much like yours. When Sir Radagon had my wings removed, they were also taken. The missing digit from my ring finger was amputated due to infection." Indeed, now Messmer saw that alongside the ugly pink scars, he also had no fingernails. That must be the reason he always wore gloves. He suddenly felt shame for an entirely new reason. His father wouldn't do this to him, and he didn't know why. Is it because Radagon hated him so much that he wanted his monstrous nature on display, or because there was still some love in his heart?
"I apologize for his actions. Thou did not need to suffer so." You don't deserve to be fixed more than I do.
"You needn't apologize, but thank you."
"Dove, I hath showed thee mine own shames. Perhaps, could I see thine? From whence the wings were cut? I am morbidly curious." Dove couldn't help the content sigh that was drawn of his lungs when he felt Messmers own hand intertwined with his. Messmer had awkwardly long fingers, but Dove loved them. He loved feeling them on himself. As he was raised, he knew to appreciate the malformed physique for it's unsung advantages, unlike the rest whom follow the golden order. Oh, does Messmer has some seriously unsung advantages, the adorable snakes, the fiercest warmth emanating of his infernal heart, the strength his gangly body wouldn't otherwise be able to give if not for the curse. Doves heart did sing at the sight of him.
Dove couldn't help but blush, thinking that this beauty asked him to disrobe. "I wouldn't want to be indecent out here."
Messmer averted his gaze, squeezing his ruined hand. "I have a room to myself, and as I doth know, thou'rt allotted within the royal quarters. By the grace of mine brother, I should think."
"True. I wouldn't be allowed, if I wasn't his servant. My dearest, would it not be improper for a prince to take a wench home?"
Messmer scoffed. "Tis for no nefarious acts! Thine mind is swimming in the deepest of gutters, mine Culver." Dove smiled, laying a kiss on his freckled shoulder and untangled his soft limbs from the Impalers body.
"Take me then, to your humble dwelling.
...
The commoners in Leyndell gave them no mind as they walked in the shade of the ramparts. It was late enough in the evening that Messmer didn't mind Dove holding onto his arm and letting him lead them on. Messmer didn't seem bothered by the chill setting in, despite him wearing the borderline scandalous garb of the numen. It is said that they hail from a place much warmer than the lands between, but none know where exactly. It very well could be the case that only Radagon, Marika and Messmer are alive to remember. At least as far as Dove knows.
Two knights clad in the symbol of the draconic cult open the gate for them. The young Impaler was respected by most of everyone, especially the draconic cult, for if Godwyn favored his brother, so will they.
Messmers room, evidently, is exactly like his personality. Or more accurately, what Messmer thinks his personality is. Plain, undecorated save for what was already here when he moved in, filled with all sorts of weapons and pieces of armor. Theres a statue of Marika, one of the older ones that was depicting her holding a babe, there were half burnt candles under it and a well loved book of hours, the soot blackened patch on the ceiling above it was a testament to how much time Messmer spent praying to her. Dove can only imagine how infuriating it must be to hear his prayers day and night, but it's Marikas own fault for raising such a dysfunctional son.
The chamber opened with heavy double doors made of oak and a had intricate carvings of the erdtree, painted with expensive blue pigments and gilded meticulously. Messmer huffed, leaning his whole body against it to close it, and as soon as he did, he turned the key in the lock. His serpents dared to poke their little snouts out from their hiding place and held Dove in their eyes like one holds something precious. Their tiny pink tounges tasted the air, deep green eyes boring through to the soul of the apprentice.
The young Impaler just stood there, resting his forehead against the wood. He was praying in the secrecy of his mind for strength.
"Sir Messmer?"
"Grant me but a moment. I never took another soul here who wasn't a servant or family."
Dove smiled, very pleased with himself. 'All mine, then.' He thought. He gently pulled his gloves off and hid them in his bag, looking at his hideous skin, he didn't understand why a prince would want him, but he wasn't complaining. Messmer turned around and took him by the waist, giving him a kiss to his rounded cheek.
"Take thine place, bed, or chair?" Dove found it endearing that Messmer was avoiding his gaze, meanwhile the serpents openly stared.
"Bed, naturally." He finally looked at Dove, face about as red and heart beating. He couldn't tell if it was butterflies or the serpent coiling in his guts that was making him feel this way.
"Of course, naturally." He whispered, looking at his sandals, avoiding eye contact once again. The serpents were much braver, going up to his face to inspect it. Dove stepped backwards and pulled Messmer along. When his legs hit the bed he let himself fall back on hit. "Prithee, why art thou so... So very casual? Art thou not eaten by worry?"
"Worry? You are the one person in the entire city who understands my struggles. I think you're beautiful, even if nobody else does, I thought you should find me pleasant despite what I am?"
"I've only scried thine fair face and hands. I'm not at liberty to judge much else."
Dove removed the veil covering his hair, dropping it onto the end of the bed. "Give me your hand." He guided it to the back of his head, letting Messmer feel the small bump there. "The one thing they didn't remove was this budding horn. They didn't find it." He looked away, somewhat sad. "But as you can see, they did take my fangs, now replaced by gold." Dove took his hands and pulled back his lips to show his golden teeth. Dull as any other. Messmer sat down by him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. His sharp tounge ran over his equally sharp teeth. All he could think about is his father's disdain for it.
"Did it hurt?"
"Like no other pain I've ever known. I screamed so loud I lost my voice. It's still not the same, permanently damaged, as Aunt Amalia said."
Messmer sat in silence, just thinking. He looked at the statue of Marika. 'Is this what thou doth decree? I love thee, and I respect thine will, but it's hard. I shall steel mine weak heart against doubt.'
"Would you like to see my back?"
"If thou doth wish for it to be seen."
"I do, actually." Dove smiled, caressing his sharp jaw with his soft fingers. He undid the buttons of his long white tunic and pulled it over his head. Messmer immediately halted in his sinful thoughts that questioned his mothers design, his head was now full of a new kind of blasphemy. He felt desire. After spending his 'teenage' years repressed, being dragged around by his parents, tutors, priests and commandors, he was sheltered, inexperienced. He didn't have friends his age either. He did glimpse other soldiers bodies, but averted his eyes in shame. He realized he didn't need to do that now. Dove welcomed the attention, he would even welcome his hands, his mouth, maybe even...
"Forgive me..." He whispered to his mother. Dove thought it was for him, because why would one assume their lover is thinking about his Mother dearest in bed with them?
Dove stood up and let his chemise drop to the floor. Messmer gaze is drawn to the scars immediately, red and still furious almost fifteen years after the event. He still had some feathers growing on him, when they sutured him up, they gave him a graft of his own skin to heal faster. It was from the base of his wings.
Dove lay down on his stomach, resting his chin on his arms. "Go on, explore." With a foreign hunger brewing in his gut, he noticed that Dove had a very feminine look. He appeared as the naked statues in the palace garden, of Numen saints that long perished in the name of Marika. Those women are the only ones who's bodies he knew. He wasn't fooled though, Doves breast was unmistakably of a lady, it pressed attractively against the neatly flattened blanket. Small in size, it completely went unnoticed under the perfumers garb.
He must not think of it.
Gently, he reached for the small, crumpled feathers growing on his back. They were a sad sight. They felt nice on his calloused hand, and when he raked his claws through them, Dove sighed in contentment. Or in pleasure.
He bit his thin lip, trying to breathe slow. Don't fail. Don't fall. Don't falter.
"Don't be shy now. You asked for it. Look the tail."
Messmer was not shy, per say. He was afraid of the desire tingling his every last inch. Especially the part of him he was most afraid of at the moment.
"I admit, I do fight indecent thoughts in this moment. Tis the reason for my hesitation."
Dove scoffed. "I'm not fighting my indecent thoughts. If you wish to indulge, I wouldn't mind. It's not like we hadn't felt each other before."
Messmer gave it some thought. He's right, he has sinned before. Is this really so different? He pulled the hem of his underwear low, peeking at the nub left of the tail. Dove was using every ounce of his strength to stop his tail from wagging, he knows it would freak Messmer out.
"I'm surprised they left this much." He said to Messmer, who remained speechless.
He ran a knuckle down Doves spine, all the way to the tip of his severed tail, reveling in the reaction it earned.
"They um... They removed another thing from me. I wasn't awake for that operation, but healing was horrible. It's the reason I didn't want you to touch me for a while."
Messmer flipped him over, pulling a high pitched yelp from the apprentice. The serpents slithered around him, lazily resting on top of his arms which he let lay on the bed, contently allowing Messmer to do as he wants. The mattress dipped low under their weight as Messmers two arms cages him in on either side, as if he needs to be kept here. No, he wouldn't wish to be anywhere else.
"What would it be that they took of thee?"
"I was born with the characteristics of an empyrean. Do you know what that means?"
"That thou wert chosen by the greater will? That is an impossibility." Messmer almost got angry, but held his ire. He was beggining to sweat, straining every muscle to avoid arousal.
"It is, because I'm not that. I was given both genders by my birth, and the scholars took one of them. To study."
Messmer looked away, left without a shred of a word yet again.
"It's not the prettiest down there. I am scarred and mutilated." He smiled, pleased with himself. "And yet, you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid."
Messmers eye opened wide with panic, his heart beat fast, too fast. The apprentice began to move before he could do anything about it, he slipped off his underwear, kicking it away with a smooth motion of his right leg, then hooked it around Messmers hip.
"Oh, you look angry. I apologize."
"Not angry. Afraid, simply."
"This is my first as well." He reached for Messmers hand, pulling it to his chest. "I don't fear you."
"Perhaps thou shouldst. I put many of thinr kind to the spear, and I have a feeling I'm yet to put many more."
Dove felt a chill go down his spine. "Well then, Impaler, put me to your spear at once." Messmer sighed, feelingthe bodies of his serpents explore where he didn't dare. Dove pulled one of his hands from the mattress to his chest, they trembled slightly as Messmer very gently caressed his skin. "That's it, get comfortable."
"Silence." He bent down and kissed Dove, letting his hands roam all over his scar littered broken body. Now, as the floodgates opened, he felt it unfair to see his love naked as the day he was born, yet feel clothes on himself. He undid his sash, his belt, threw them wherever fate may take them, damn them for keeping him from this sin he will commit happily! He undid his braces, exposing the scaled grey patches on his forearm, he didn't care. He didn't need to hide it, Dove is still beneath him, even with the Abyssal Serpent coiling within him. Dove pulled him closer, reaching under his toga and touching anything he could reach with his dull fingers. Through the cloth still clinging to Messmers hip, he felt it. Making him moan.
"Messmer. You still have your fangs, so mark me with them. Should anyone spy me under my veil, I want it to be clear I belong to someone"
Messmer almost groaned and rammed into Dove before he gained some sense. "Doth it umm... Hurt thee? Thine injury."
"Thank the Allmother, it doesn't." Messmers whole body cringes at the mere mention of Marika. He winces and hides his face in Doves golden hair. His serpents twist and coil around him, sharing his pain. "Forgive me dearest. Do you want to see?"
"Thine scars?"
"Yes."
Messmer pulls back. "If it's not too much to bear for thee."
"Pff. Of course not. Hand?" Dove reached and awaited until Messmer meekly placed his hand into his. Then, slowly, put his long fingers right on the scar that was left after the scholars took his male aspect. "Funnily enough, I don't miss it. It would be nice to have it back, sure, but the ache I feel for my wings outweighs it so tremendously that I forget sometimes I even had it."
Messmer silently ran his fingers up the scar. Its void of any hair or feathers, soft and textured. He has scars akin to it, but it still made him feel sick. It made him feel doubt, worst of all. Mother knows everything... She must have spared his life because she knew he would blossom into something beautiful, even if he didn't understand why his curses had to be stripped. Dove sighed, stretching his arms above his head on Messmers bed.
"Go lower, would you?"
"Thou'rt awfully eager for impalement. Never in my days hath I seen one such as thee." Messmer tried to pretend he wasn't nervous and that he wasn't completely clueless when it came to female anatomy. For better or for worse, Dove doesn't know much either. Messmer blushes deeply and stumbles around his words before finally saying:"It's... quite wet."
"That's supposed to happen. Helps with entering. And then exiting. And entering and exiting in succession at great speed. Or so I've heard."
Dove held back a hearty laugh at the face Messmer made, but he couldn't hold back his smile. "Doth it feel... Pleasant? Tolerable?"
"I can do it if you don't want to."
"I implore thee, I fear that I will harm thee. My hands were forged for killing, nothing else." Dove cradled his face, and gave him a kiss on his left eyelid.
"That's a profoundly sad thing, what you've just said." Messmer closed his eyes and his serpents retreated to wrap around his torso.
"Tis merely my truth." Dove let it be so. He will accept Messmer despite his unpleasant qualities. He scooted back on the bed and pulled his love with him.
"Make sure you get a good look. Maybe you'll learn something."
Messmer, despite wanting to say a million things, kept his mouth shut. He sat on his knees, his cruel, clawed hands clutched together on his lap. His serpents curiously explored Doves ankles where they sat by either side of him. He found his mouth watering at the sight of his soft stomach meeting his thighs, it's an odd detail, but it caught his attention. Nothing could prepare him for how enamored he became by those small, tortured pale hands sinking into the most sacred place on his body. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the glistening wetness. His smooth, nailless fingers came in and out, preparing. Preparing for him. Only for him.
He will take Dove up on the offer to mark him with bites. He felt a desire burning within him to show everyone what's his. Not now, for the moment he is more than happy to take the sight in. Dove moaned his name, it made him forget his fears, but for a moment.
"I love the way you look at me."
"If thou wilt allot me to gaze upon thine form like this once again, I wilt. Tis a great pleasure in itself."
Dove whined, hitting a good spot. Messmer could bear the burn no longer, on all fours, he crawled up to him and laid his hand on Doves waist, nails scraping his flesh and denting the soft fat. His lips teased Doves neck as his serpents curiously explored yet again. Dove let them wrap their cold scales around his free hand while he worked himself open.
Messmer shyly bit into his weak skin, he didn't even try to hold himself back when he moaned.
"Mine Culver." Messmer whispered to him before licking at his shallow wound. "I don't mean to hurry thee, but-"
"I'm growing impatient as well. Fret not, I won't be long." He tilted his head, inviting more kisses to his neck. Messmer obliged, hands in tight fists. He dared not make a move, even now. He will get what he wants, what he needs, when he is rewarded for his good behavior.
Dove deemed himself ready when his neck was adorned in bruises aplenty, he took brought his hand to his lips and sucked them clean. The rather lewd act that was mere inches from Messmers face made him groan in a low tone. Dove, pleased with himself, ran a hand down the Impalers lean stomach.
"Are you ready." Messmer could only nod feverently, and as Doves smooth fingers raked through his hair, gliding towards him. He shivered. "Right, you look ready." Messmer crawled closer, taking his place above Dove once again. He dared not look down, dared not ease into his love, but he didn't need to. Dove took him in his hand and helped him enter.
He whined, bending over. The warmth around him, overwhelming, he's just so sensitive now. He's so starved. Doves every limb was around him as he panted into the pillow. He shivered, feeling Dove play with his hair, slithering his fingers under the neat braid. He pulled the ribbon out, letting his waves loose.
Messmer took it. Any touch he received, he welcomed. He needed it.
"Sweeting. You're supposed to move."
"Oh. Forgive me." Dove chuckled, but it swiftly turned into an unrestrained, wanton moan when Messmer thrust all the way in. He didn't stop there, the floodgates are fully open, afterall, he couldn't take the waiting any longer. The smell of sweat, the taste of blood. He groaned into Doves shoulders, the sounds of pleasure right in his ear, straight from its spring. Dove pulled him back in after every thrust, legs around his hips, beckoning roughly.
He found his hand around Doves neck, feeling his pulse, the vibrations from his moans.
"Forgive me... Dove, Mine Culver. I won't last."
He's failing.
So humiliating.
"That's alright, just pull out."
Messmer doesn't exactly know what that means, so after a short while when it finally, happened. He didn't. It's not like it would have made a difference, pulling out is not effective at alll. Dove held him close as he came down from his high. They separated, both catching their breaths, the silence of the room overwhelming. The sun is just about to set, so not much is visible in the room. They can see each other just fine, illuminated through the stained glass window.
There was only one thought remaining in the head of the Impaler. 'What have I done?'
Messmer turned around, unable to face the object of his desire. Dove still lay there, dazed from the experience, filled with seed. He was gasping and staring at the ceiling with tear filled eyes. After he calmed down, he looked over at Messmer, who was silently burning in his hatred. He reached out, gently touching his arm. Messmer flinched just a little before turning around to look him in the eye.
"Something the matter, Dove?" Messmer could just barely contain his upset.
"Would you please hug me?" Messmers red eyebrows knit together, forming an ever deepening wrinkle betwixt them.
"Why?" Dove felt an uneasy ache in his stomach, the betrayal sunk deep in his ailed body. He was just crying from bliss, but soon it will be in pain.
"It would be nice, I have given you my body, and I'd like it if we shared our heart too."
"Why wouldst thou want me as such? I am a monster." A monster in many ways. He let this happen when he knew this was a sin.
"I-" He stood up, now furious. "So am I. There's nobody here to judge us." But there is. Messmer will never cease to judge, and Dove just realized that. Messmer averted his eye in shame, and stood to dress up.
He was fighting tears as well, just for different reasons. He knew this was a bad idea, he knew he should have remained chaste. This strumpet has seduced him and stole from him something he will never get back. "I will return."
"Are you going to run away from me? After you just took my virginity? Coward." Dove wipes a stray tear spilling from his missing eye. He cannot believe how stupid he was to become so vulnerable. After Tricia warned him all his life to be cautious of men, none the less. He pulled his knees close and hid his face behind them, even naked in a strange bed, that was his biggest shame. His visage showing the agony.
Messmer halts. He knows Dove is right, but he also knows that he has just committed blasphemy. He made a mistake, but he will own up to it, he has to! He drops his clothes and crawls back onto the bed. "Forgive me. I admit I am scared, but I vow to own up to mine errs." Dove looks up but turns away. He can't bear to look at that stupid sullen face of his. Messmer kisses Dove on the cheek, then embraces him, just as he has done so many times before.
"I thought you were nobler than this! I thought you would treat me well! I can't believe you would betray me like this. The Allmother didn't raise you to be like this!" Dove aims right at the bastards heart, twisting the dagger.
"I should have been nobler, but Dove, dare not ever put my mothers name on thine lips in such manner." He gently pushes Dove until he's laid flat on the bed, soon following him. What sort of a pathetic, worthless man he is, that he has done this to the one joy he deserves? His emotions are conflicted. The act felt divine, yet he knows it's wrong. Just two disgusting creatures in a detestable union that will yield only more disgusting creatures. Oh, he didn't think of that, he cannot have a child without his mothers permission, he will surely disappoint her. He tears up. Hiding his face in Doves golden hair. "Forgive me."
Dove can't help himself. He already forgave Messmer. "Shush. All is well."
"All isn't well."
"When I tell you all is well, you better believe me. Or else." He sniffles in his bed, just as he does nearly every night, but now he has company. He cannot decide if he hates it or loves it.
...
His knees hurt. His heart aches.
Around him, his comrades are also praying. It's been hours since he left his bed, which was warmed by Dove. He couldn't bear to wake him, so he left after tenderly placing his blanket over him and tucking him in to fend off the early mornings cold.
He's been rooted to the spot ever since, praying for guidance and forgiveness. Mother remains silent. He's afraid to seek her out in the palace, afraid of the hand of his father that would cone to strike him for his foul deed. Dove will no doubt tattle on him soon as he woke up, going to Godwyns embrace with haste. He deserves whatever stinging words will come from his brother, he will be washed clean of his evil nature by the pain.
...