Chapter Text
IV.
What compels me to tear out your heart
So that I may keep it close to mine?
Is your beauty skin deep
Or does it filter into your bones, your blood, sinew and soul?
Would you taste foul, ill like your wishes?
Or like nectar, sweetened by destiny?
The very one that has brought you and I
together.
V.
Love did not often compliment immortality.
It was quite easy to strip it of its allure and glamour under the harsh lights of an unending existence. What remained were evanescent fits of passion, of obsession and infatuation — fleeting and unable to withstand the passage of time.
Matrimony, likewise, was an inane concept. Doubly so in a world where he was unable to sire an heir. It was a charade at best; virtue signaling as one declared fealty to another.
As if the only way to reinforce the legitimacy of a union was to make it a public spectacle.
Among Atem's kind, loyalty was secured through the inextricable bonds of blood.
A ceremony fell short, unable to compare to a pact sewn into the fabric of one’s existence.
Atem would be remiss to expend energy arguing against a wedding, however.
As it stood, he’d already spent far too much of his time entertaining other alternatives for his pest problem.
Even as an immortal of ruin, a being beyond redemption, Atem found fae to be particularly nasty little creatures with a petulance for trickery and an embarrassing lack of self-control regulating their emotions.
Atem had ignored them at first, believing that their acutely bitter grudge with his coven would fade with time.
But the wounds had only festered. Fae went from being a nuisance to becoming a legitimate disruption, proactively seeking out and killing vampires without provocation.
Atem’s patience had thinned considerably. At this point, it was but a frayed braid of threads.
As tempting as it was to rid their realm of fae entirely, he was aware that other species would not take kindly to genocide. He opted for a more diplomatic approach instead, opening a line of communication with Solomon in hopes of putting the matter to rest. As the decades passed, it was clear that this was but a fruitless endeavor.
The fae monarch was a bitter old fool, tormented by guilt, and unable to see reason. His requests for proper restitution for the inciting incident demanded more blood than Atem was willing to give. As far as Atem was concerned, the matter was handled and the instigators punished.
With no resolution in sight, the fae and vampire species had been hovering on the precipice of a long-overdue war for many years now.
And though Atem would be at the ready if it’d progressed to that point, he wasn’t keen to waste his time and resources to satiate the fae’s need for revenge.
It was Mahad, his most trusted advisor, who’d ultimately recommended asking for the hand of the prince — a decree of peace and unity that would put an end to the unrest.
Atem scoffed at the idea at first, dismissing it from nearly laughing lips. But in the hours that followed the conversation, thoughts of the fae prince lingered in his peripheral — a rainbow of color that, if nothing else, was terribly distracting.
The first time he’d come across the sole heir to the fae kingdom, Atem was left brutally unimpressed.
The little weed lacked proper home training and discipline, glaring at him openly as a petulant child does.
Yet, there was something about the prince that called for Atem’s attention throughout the meeting and the ones that followed — something familiar…
A pull, somewhere within, subdued, whispering words too quiet for him to discern even with his superior hearing.
In his many centuries as a nightwalker, Atem could say with certainty that he never forgot a face. He knew they hadn’t crossed paths prior and yet, a part of Atem’s soul knew Yugi's signature, his aura.
The next time he saw him, some fifty years later, Atem no longer saw a child, but a blooming bud, triggering feelings on a spectrum far less innocent.
All fae were ethereal with symmetrical faces, jewel-toned eyes, and graceful strides.
But the prince was something else entirely.
He had the radiance of a boy dipping his toes into the shallow waters of manhood. His vitality permeated through his wondrously lithe form like body heat. Flaxen strands framed his face and bled into a dark, luminous halo of hair. And at the center of all that fetching beauty were oval eyes, tanzanite gems encased by dark lashes, upon rosy, freckle-riddled cheeks.
The rest of his skin, at least the parts that Atem could see, was blemish-free — not a single mark or scratch. A blank canvas that called to the inner artist in Atem’s soul to mark red.
Yet, behind his deceptively delicate facade was a being of immense power.
If a union with the fae prince was an efficient means of pest control, Atem supposed there were worse fates.
Still, if it were entirely up to him, he would skip the charade of a ceremony, forgoing the fake pleasantries and formalities altogether. He did this only for the sake of his betrothed and the customs fae held dear.
Despite his personal feelings on the matter, Atem dressed in his nicest garments for the occasion, standing patiently beneath the decorated floral arch beside his loyal guards. He was not so foolishly proud that he’d venture here alone. He was quite aware of the hidden powers of the fae.
As he waited for his husband-to-be, he absently took note of his surroundings. The building reminded him of a cathedral with stained-glass windows, history and folklore turned into art. The expansive space boasted high ceilings that allowed for flight and grand, open windows. He imagined that the sun would've cast a rather luminous cape across the floor if it'd been daytime.
Even in the twilight hour, the air was tinged with frivolous joy and floral fragrances from the abundant gardens that Atem hoped wouldn’t linger on his clothes.
He noted there were very few attendees. The council members of each of their courts. A few companions.
Solomon was there, of course, but hardly looked aware, his gaze distant and drifting.
Despite their differences, Atem got no satisfaction seeing the ruler in such a feeble state. There was no honor in preying on the weak, on those who could not fight back. After knowing him for so long, It was hard for Atem to look at what had become of the ruler. He only hoped that someone would put him out of his misery if he ever found himself in a similar state.
Overall, the affair appeared quite intimate. Atem would’ve thought the entire kingdom would've been here to see their prince wed. If this were for show, after all, then he’d argue that having a small audience was counterproductive.
But he cared little for how the fae royal family chose to disseminate the news of their union. So long as the populace knew that an unprovoked attack on vampires would be a direct rebuke of the crown and that retribution would swiftly follow.
He had no plans to directly interfere or interact with the fae, otherwise.
Movement drew Atem’s attention back to the present. The small crowd stirred lightly, turning as the doors groaned, the sound of the latch resonating in the large space.
They swept open to reveal his betrothed, tiny as can be. The wild locks of his hair were tucked away for the occasion, pinned up into a bun on top of his head. Powder rendered his already pale complexion an ivory white, and made the gemstones that curled gently at the corner of his eyes even more prominent.
Daises adorned his chest, clinging to bare patches of his skin and hugging his shoulders like a shawl. The petals transversed his abdomen to drape over his waist and cover his modesty. A floral tapestry trailed behind him. Butterflies fluttered, hovering around him, their wings a whimsical display of blues and purples. In his hands was a bouquet of shimmering lilies.
For all his disinterest in the affair, Atem was quite pleased by the sight of him. If he had to engage in such pageantry, at least he was marrying someone of equal importance, title, and beauty.
The fae prince walked — no, glided across the pristine tiled floor with fluttering wings, his eyes ahead, looking every bit of a martyr leading his own death march as onlookers watched.
Atem briefly wondered if the fae’s body was as flexible as it looked.
If it’d move seamlessly against his like a river.
Atem might be dead (and ever so reluctant to marry), but his eyesight was still in working order, and he couldn’t deny how the prince’s beauty transcended realms. He indulged frequently in his fair share of lovers, but they paled in comparison to the supernova before him, sparkling like a dying sun in the twilight.
When the prince stopped beside him, he turned to acknowledge Atem.
Atem met the scorn bright in Yugi’s eyes with a disarming smile.
“Good evening, my prince,” Atem said with a polite bow and only a slither of mockery. He reached out to take Yugi’s hand and had to be so very gentle as he pried it from the bouquet. If he wasn’t careful, he might crush the delicate bones of the prince’s fingers, and wouldn’t that put a damper on such a joyous occasion?
With the utmost care, he pressed a kiss to his pale knuckles. “How gracious of you to honor me with your presence. I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.”
Yugi slipped his hand out from Atem’s with ease. “I still could,” he muttered under his breath.
Atem’s ears twitched at the threat, but it was empty, lacking substance in the way the prince stood like stone before him, utterly resigned to his fate.
The officiant posed in front of them began to speak then, drawing their attention to him.
He spoke in a language Atem recognized as ancient fae, powerful and etched with wisdom. He did not know it fluently, but the root words were Latin, and he was able to surmise that the speech was nothing more than further formalities that Atem cared little for.
He was much more interested in the fae beside him, statuesque, all sharp edges adorned in white.
“Fear not, wildflower,” Atem murmured just for Yugi’s ears, an ode to the untamed floret he was to be saddled with. “It won't be all bad.”
The fae prince’s grip around the stems of his bouquet tightened. “I don’t believe you.”
Intelligent, too, Atem mused. Truly the whole package.
Though he hadn’t been a part of weddings in his time as a child of the night, Atem was familiar enough with them from his time as a human. He was aware of how they’d progressed over the centuries, in both extravagance and size, and prepared himself for a dreadfully long ceremony.
To his pleasant surprise, however, it was a short ordeal.
Atem wasn’t entirely paying attention so he raised an elegant brow when the officiant stopped talking. The prince suddenly turned to him.
When Atem remained still, exasperation darkened Yugi's gaze.
“Kiss me,” Yugi said quietly.
Ah.
Well, that was one tradition that Atem did not mind.
Amusement tugged at his lips when he bent at the waist. He wasn't particularly tall but the prince was such a tiny little thing, brimming with hostility. Atem suppressed a chuckle, watching Yugi bare teeth that were not nearly as sharp as his own.
Atem was tempted to curl his hand behind Yugi’s neck and crush their mouths together but didn't want to be accosted if he were to break Yugi’s spine in the process.
He clenched his hands behind him instead as he tipped forward and pressed his lips to Yugi’s with as much gentleness as he could manage. Perhaps when they were in private he'd be able to find out just how much Yugi's body could withstand.
There was a pulse of magic at the first brush of contact, something shifting in the air at the touch, charged with resentment so thick, it was almost a solid entity.
Yugi’s mouth was soft and warm and void of any affection. There was so much reluctance in that willowy frame when Atem tilted his head to slot their lips together; his payment, he told himself, for playing his part in this charade.
When they separated, Atem opened his eyes to look upon his newlywed husband.
“Cheer up, darling,” he said into the space between them. “You look prettier when you smile.”
A breeze burst through the open window, carrying with it the chill of a threat, as a storm brewed in the blue of Yugi's eyes. The butterflies hovering around Yugi quickly dispersed.
Yugi’s disdain was twisting at his features, and Atem imagined the prince’s blood running hot with it.
How warm would that royal blood feel in his mouth, he wondered.
Celebratory claps, quiet with superficial cheer, broke them from the spell cast between them.
They were officially wed.
Joyous, indeed.
What followed was an hour of post-ceremony festivities, including food and drink. Atem and his guards politely abstained from the former, but he did indulge in the proffered red wine. It was an acceptable substitute when his preferred beverage was unavailable.
Despite the occasion, the atmosphere wasn’t very... happy.
It had the air of a funeral, of mourning as Yugi spoke in quiet tones to his friends. The prince was all smiles when speaking to Solomon, however, though his eyes still retained a hint of melancholy.
Whether that was for his grandfather’s predicament or his own, Atem couldn’t say.
And if Yugi wiped discreetly at his eyes with quick fingers when he thought no one was looking, Atem wasn’t so cruel as to draw attention to it.
As the evening came to a close, Atem found himself at the prince's side, infusing commentary into the tense silence between them.
“This is terribly boring,” Atem said, sipping at his wine.
Yugi had hardly said a word to him since he'd approached, but now, he looked over at him with banked irritation.
“Our wedding, you mean?”
“Indeed.”
Yugi’s wings fluttered behind him with his wry laugh, and Atem's eyes followed the movement. Then, his gaze drifted from Yugi's wings to the florals decorating him, covering him, though not enough to hide the distinct edges and grooves of his body.
He was, objectively, the most beautiful creature Atem had laid eyes on in all his years.
Again, Atem felt a sense of pride at that.
“I suppose you would not wish to consummate our marriage this evening?”
Yugi covered his mouth with a hand, coughing into it after an ill-timed sip. He had not been anticipating such a question, it seemed, but why shouldn't Atem take advantage of the pocket of privacy they were afforded?
Throat clearing, Yugi turned burning eyes on Atem, hot with offense. “You would?”
Atem blinked, slow and indulgent. “I see no reason we can’t take some pleasure in our union."
Even beneath the powder, Atem could see the warm flush of Yugi's skin, bright and glittering red with indignation. “I had to give you my hand in marriage. That will be the extent of our… contact.”
Atem hummed in mild disappointment. All for the best, he supposed. He had no interest in an unwilling lover. Atem much preferred them begging for him to take them apart, piece by piece, to have them writhing beneath him, gasping for more.
And as eye-catching as Yugi was, any carnal activities between them would require significant limitations on his part — what, with fine china for bones and paper-thin skin, it'd be all too easy to maim the fae in the event of their coupling.
“Very well,” Atem conceded. “I would hate to impose on your delicate sensibilities, after all.”
“Your wandering eyes say differently," Yugi said, gaze forward, his lips curved in a facsimile of a smile. “You should keep them to yourself lest you lose them.”
Atem's laughter rumbled low in his chest. “A bit gauche to threaten to disfigure your new husband so soon after the ceremony, don’t you think? I’d expect more from a race that sets itself on such a high pedestal.”
“Not high,” Yugi corrected with false sweetness, tart like underripe berries. “But I suppose when you reside at the very bottom of society, you have no choice but to look up.”
The glass in Atem's hand cracked slightly, fissures spiderwebbing along the stemware. "Careful now," Atem said, and Yugi shot him a sidelong glance. "You agreed to this. So play nice, won't you, dear?"
Yugi turned his eyes back to the small crowd, muttering, “Go to hell.”
Oh, well, that was hardly an insult when Atem had already resided there for centuries now.
Still, as fun as it'd had been to ruffle the prince’s feathers — or wings as it were — Atem was growing weary of the prince’s prickly disposition.
It was a most welcome reprieve when the post-wedding festivities ended, and their guests began to bid them farewell.
Atem turned to Yugi to do the same, offering his husband another bow.
“Thank you for being the most gracious host, my darling wildflower. I look forward to returning soon.”
Yugi nodded wordlessly, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. Atem captured it with his own and pressed a quick, parting kiss to the center of Yugi's palm. The responding scowl was terribly satisfying.
Atem put up no fuss when the palace guards escorted him and his staff to the front gates under the guise of politeness.
Once there, he cast a flurry of dark magic. It swirled around him, glimmering diamonds among shadows, encompassing him.
When it faded, he had shifted into a form more suited for travel. As had his entourage.
He took off in the direction of his coven then, feeling eyes on him until he was well and truly across the border.
Next week, it would be Yugi's turn to visit him, in a venue where Atem had home-field advantage.
He didn’t look forward to it, but if nothing else, he was certain that it would prove to be an entertaining visit.