Chapter Text
In a distant land, under a cloudy sky, a man stands on the edge of a beach. He stares at the distant horizon as the waters crash against the shore and white spindrift swirls around him. With his silvery hair and pale eyes, he looks divine. Holy.
“Mikhail.” The man blinks and turns, locking eyes with a grim-looking older woman. “It’s time.”
Ah. Mikhail smiles weakly. “So it is,” he agrees.
The woman nods and turns on her heel, walking towards a structure caging a screaming, crying woman. Mikhail stares at her for a moment, before glancing at the waves. Without another word, he leaves.
As he does, an arm appears around his shoulders, as if cradling him. From the arm, sloping shoulders form, followed by elegant features, a heavy bust, and curvy hips. Tousled curls frame her lovely face. Translucent cloth covers her, if only barely. The woman that forms is just as beautiful as the man, but one key attribute gives away her inhumanity - her slitted, red eyes. The eyes of a demon.
Those eyes, normally playful, are now filled with concern for the man.
“Mikhail,” the demoness whispers. She squeezes the man’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do this.”
Mikhail sighs. He squeezes her hand. All around, exorcists look on as he arrives with his contracted demon; their eyes full of suspicion and disdain. “Lilian,” he says, “You know I must.”
Without another word, he lets go of her, and her of him. Then, he raises his arms and starts to chant.
The woman screams as flames surround them. They lick at his feet, soaring higher and higher. In them, he sees a mirage of Lilian’s face, twisted in grief and sorrow. As he speaks, he finds himself weakening. Drop by drop, his lifeforce bleeds out of him, becoming fuel for the flames.
Still, he chants.
Hours later, Mikhail is tending to his garden, humming to himself. It’s an awfully chilly day, and the wind is unusually harsh. Pulling his robes tight against his body, he kneels down to observe his roses.
His fingers carefully brush over the red blooms, a gentle smile on his lips.
When the director of the orphanage had seen him planting the seeds for his roses, he had been harshly disciplined. His back still bears the scars of lashes from that beating. But it was the last he had ever been subject to. A year later, the exorcists arrived and tested the magical ability of the children in that orphanage. When his results came out, the exorcists hadn’t hesitated to adopt him into their fold and he quickly rose through the ranks. The orphanage director had stood by as he sowed the seeds in the gardens, and, well, though she hadn’t exactly approved even in the years since-
(“Know that this is all you’ll ever be worth,” she had said, her voice cold as she crushed a bloom between her fingers, heedless of the spines digging into her skin and drawing blood-)
-He’d still done it. And all of his accomplishments, rose garden and all, have all come from his flourishing contract with Lilian.
Mikhail smiles, as his mind goes to the whimsical demoness.
It’s strange, how sweet Lilian is now, compared to when they first met. He thinks it makes the drain on his lifeforce with every exorcism that much easier, knowing he’s feeding her and not any other demon. He knows that Lilian doesn’t feel the same. He can practically see her-
I should just steal you away and keep you as my pet, Lilian would declare, arrogantly lifting her chin. And he would scold her for uttering such things when the other exorcists could overhear them. Yet, at the same time, his body would be affused with unimaginable warmth. To be treasured and loved by her… that would be a nice dream.
But she cannot do anything. Neither of them can. Not against the might of the exorcists.
He’s seen enough of what happens when an exorcist attempts to flee. The result is never pretty, for both demon and exorcist. And never, in a thousand years, would Mikhail ever endanger Lilith like that.
He shivers as another gust of wind rushes past his ears. Blearily, he glances down at his hands - the veins under his skin are nearly black. His lips twist in mirth. Wouldn’t be long now.
Mikhail sighs. Casting one last fond look at his roses, he straightens and says, loud and clear, “How long are you planning to merely observe, demon?”
A pause. Then, a chuckle. A man appears, with dark eyes and artfully tousled hair, his handsomeness plain for all to see. His light grey eyes are almost silvery, his gait strong and sure. Few would be able to look past his gorgeous appearance, and even if they do, they would surely find themselves met with a personality as alluring as his beauty.
But Mikhail can.
“How surprising,” the demon purrs, his voice deep and smooth, “that the exorcists would find a boy capable of sensing me. You must be plenty powerful.”
“You honour me. I am but a humble exorcist,” Mikhail says politely.
“A humble exorcist with a green thumb,” the demon nods at his roses.
Mikhail shrugs. “I have my hobbies,” he says, playing at nonchalance.
“Hm. And you do not fear me, either. How intriguing,” the demon tilts his head. “Say, little exorcist, how do you feel about joining me? For eternity, I mean.”
What.
Mikhail blinks but quickly collects himself. “Surely you jest.”
“No. You are powerful, undoubtedly. I can sense that. But your looks are… fairly appealing, for a mortal,” the demon smiles, showing white, sharp fangs. “I would like to have you in my bed.”
The exorcist forces a placid smile on his face. “You have not even offered your name, and yet you proposition me? Are all demons this uncouth?”
To his surprise, the demon merely laughs instead of being insulted. “You may call me ‘Ivan’, little exorcist.”
Ivan. A clear pseudonym. Internally, Mikhail frowns. “That is better,” he acknowledges and folds his hands over his front demurely. “But eternal life does not suit me.”
“No?” Ivan hums. “But you are dying, are you not?”
Mikhail’s jaw tightens. This demon can sense his lifeforce? That… is not good. The ability to be that sensitive to a mortal’s lifeforce outside of a contract would hint at Ivan being, at minimum, a Duke in Inferno.
But, more importantly, Mikhail finds himself surprised by his own reaction. The offer is not entirely unappealing to him. He is dying. He has acknowledged that months ago. And yes, death is something he dreads, with every fiber of his being. But eternal life while tied to this demon? No. There is only one to whom Mikhail would give his soul and his life. And they are not him.
“A kind offer,” he finally says, dipping his head. “Unfortunately, my good sir, I am too dedicated to the exorcists’ cause.”
“Oh?” Ivan lifts an eyebrow. “Dedicated to the exorcists, you say? Are you sure it’s not because you have your eyes on your demon companion?”
Mikhail stiffens. He sees the moment the demon notices his misstep.
“Ah. It seems that I’m right,” the edges of Ivan’s eyes crinkle with mirth. “How sweet. I feel a bit jealous. It is not often that a human would love a demon with such pure devotion.”
The exorcist breathes in slowly. He counts, from one to five, then exhales. Dropping the pretense, Mikhail levels a glare at the smug demon, annoyance carved into his expression. “Enough with the insinuations,” he says coldly. “State your purpose. A demon would never visit an exorcist just to proposition them.”
Ivan grins. It’s an oily and slick thing that sends shivers down Mikhail’s spine. “Ah, you’ve caught me.” the demon gives a one-armed shrug. “Indeed, I did not expect you to ever climb into my bed. But that does not mean my offer of eternity wasn’t genuine, little exorcist.”
What. Mikhail rears back, his glare intensifying. “And you expect me to believe you?”
Ivan hums. He doesn’t respond. His fingers drift over the petals of one of Mikhail’s roses, his grin softening to a smile. “What beautiful flowers you’ve grown. Roses - symbols of undying love and passion. Are these all grown from seeds you’ve sowed?”
“Yes,” Mikhail says, folding his arms. “Why?”
“Ah.” The demon nods. “A hardy little species, then, to have survived the past Winters. Tell me, have you ever thought about what would become of them when you’re no longer around?”
Mikhail’s eyes narrow. “I presume the other exorcists would keep them around,” he lies.
“Do you? Because I doubt it. I have seen no other exorcist tend to these gardens except you. And the orphanage director seems to dislike them a fair bit.”
He knows even that? “And what is the worth of these flowers to you, demon?”
“Nothing,” Ivan replies, eyes twinkling. “Nothing at all. But you care for them, no? Just like you care for your demoness, when the exorcists see both as disposable.”
Mikhail’s eyes widen. He’s unable to look away as the demon leans in, his smile cruel in its gentility.
“Tell me,” he says, “have you ever thought of what they would do to her when you’ve left this earth?”
Mikhail recoils. He feels as if he’s been slapped. Yet, as the demon’s words rattle around inside his head, he finds himself unable to deny it. He had thought about what would happen to Lilian after he dies. And the possibilities, endless as they are, are also terribly, awfully, grim.
The uncontracted demons the exorcists have captured are kept in small cages that bend their spines over time. A few would be brought out every fortnight for new exorcists to train their new spells. And - in the dark of night - some exorcists would go further; tearing into the demons with instruments of torture.
Before contracting him, the senior exorcists’ experiments had been limited to pairing her with exorcists and seeing how much of her powers they can utilise. But the results have been dire. Only he had been able to extract Lilian’s full strength.
Mikhail is no fool. He knows that before he’s even six feet under, the higher-ranking exorcists would be trying to find another for her to feed from. And when they inevitably find none, they would resort to more extreme methods. And, if that does not work, then they would discard her.
Exitium animae. Destruction of the soul. There would be nothing left of Lilian.
He stares, unseeing, at his roses. The thought of the people he’s seen every day for the past seven years being the ones that snuff out Lilian’s bright spark… his stomach turns, bile rising at the back of his throat. He would do anything to prevent that.
Even accept a demon’s offer? Something inside of him whispers.
Yes. Even that.
But one question remains - nagging at the back of his mind. A question that the exorcist cannot ignore.
“What benefit would it bring you, to help us?” Mikhail whispers. “The eternal damnation of my soul?”
For the first time, Ivan looks offended - his nose scrunched up and thick brows furrowed. “Demons have emotions. Contrary to what you exorcists like to think, we are not cold, unfeeling creatures,” he shoots, before softening. “But, we have learned ways to control our emotions. We have to. Because what humans feel, we feel in spades. Whether that be sympathy, joy, sorrow… or love. ”
Love. Mikhail inhales sharply, eyes glimmering
He hears Ivan’s feet scrap against the ground as he steps closer. A hand is laid on his shoulder. “Understand, Mikhail, that what I offer is freedom for both of you and her salvation,” Ivan says quietly. “Your life is not the only one at risk.”
Mikhail squeezes his eyes shut. “I- I cannot,” he whispers. “You can’t expect me to-”
“You do not have to give me an answer now,” the demon interrupts. “Just. Think about it, would you?”
The exorcist doesn’t answer. With one last pat on his shoulder, Mikhail feels the demon’s presence leave the sanctity of the orphanage’s grounds. The tension in the garden breaks. He breathes in shakily, raking a hand through his hair. The head pounds.
Just what on earth should he do?
“Mikhail~” Lilian whines, as he enters their room. She’s lying on the bed, her legs swinging in the air as she pouts up at him. “Why did you take so long? I was so lonely while you were away~”
He huffs. “Sorry,” he says. “I was checking on the garden.”
“Oh? Oh!” her eyes light up as she straightens excitedly. “The roses are in bloom, aren’t they? Did you bring any of them back?”
Mikhail rolls his eyes before dutifully pulling out a rose from his robes. Red, vibrant, and the most beautiful bloom from his garden. She squeals and jumps up, grabbing the rose before glomping him. “Oh~ you’re the best! Thank you!”
“It’s nothing,” he says, but he smiles as he watches her dance around, cooing over the rose and how she’ll treasure it, forever and ever and ever! Mikhail huffs at her antics. “It’s only a rose. You could find plenty in the countryside.”
Lilian gasps as if he’s said something sacrilegious. Or rather, something too holy for her to bear. “How dare you!” she hisses. “ You grew this rose before gifting it to me! That means it’s more precious than any mere wildflower. Don’t you dare insinuate otherwise!”
She swats playfully at his arm and Mikhail knows he should dodge, but with Ivan’s words ringing in his ears, his reaction time is slow. When her hand hits him, he yelps as pain spikes up his arm, carving itself into his shoulder.
Lilian jerks back, startled, the rose dropping from her limp fingers as he slumps into the bed. “Mikhail?” her eyes are wide, frightened. Her hands flit over him, his gift all but forgotten on the floor. “Did- did I hit you that hard? No, but, I didn’t… why did you- let me see your arm. Now!”
“There is no need!” he protests, but it’s half-hearted. He doesn’t have the strength to fight her as Lilian forces him onto his side and jerks his robes down. Resigned to his metaphorical demise, he grimaces as Lilian gasps in horror.
“Mikhail,” she utters, soft and sad, and Mikhail closes his eyes, unable to force himself to look at her. Her fingernails trace the black veins underneath his skin, the edges of the dark purple skin on his shoulder. Necrosis has finally started to set in. “It’s progressed this far? Why… why didn’t you tell me?”
He opens his mouth, but Lilian answers her question before he can. “No, I know why,” she mutters under her breath, black curls flying as she shakes her head. “You just don’t want me to worry, don’t you? You stubborn man.”
“Can you blame me?” Mikhail says. He tugs the robe up, and straightens, suppressing a wince at the pain he feels in his other arm. “Worrying over me… it is not worth it. You cannot change anything for me.”
He feels, rather than sees, Lilian stilling. Then slowly, she whispers, her voice dark, “Yes, I can.”
Mikhail sighs. “Lillian-” he tries.
“No . I shouldn’t have listened to you. I should just take you with me. Spirit you away, keep you locked up somewhere they can’t find you. Chained up and fed. You’ll be safe. Alive. And all mine,” Lilian’s voice drops to a guttural growl, her eyes glowing a bloody red and Mikhail shivers as nails sharpen to claws, scraping against his skin as she grips him tightly. “ I’ll have you at my side forever. And ever. And ever. And- ow!”
She rubs her head, pouting as Mikhail lowers his hand with a hard stare. “Quit it,” he scolds, then, softly, “You know why that can not happen, Lilian.”
“Urgh,” the demoness wrinkles her nose. “At least let me try .”
Mikhail sighs but he reaches out anyway. Lilian does not stop him, inhuman strength or otherwise, when he takes her hands in his, rubbing her knuckles gently. “It would not be worth it. None can escape the exorcists,” he says, before chuckling. “Besides, if you die… I will have to get a new demon, won’t I?”
“I won’t die,” Lilian says confidently, puffing her chest out. “I’m stronger than you think.”
“Yes, yes, you are the strongest demon of all,” he says, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t resist as Lilian drags him down into bed, her arms cradling his head, pressing it into her chest.
Nuzzling into her, he breathes in her scent, letting the smoke curl up in his lungs. Quietly, tender as a confession, he whispers, “But I wouldn’t know what I’ll do without you.”
For a moment, Lilian is silent. Then, she whispers, her voice scratchy, “You’ll be alive… idiot.”
“You’re the idiot,” he retorts before yawning, his eyes fluttering shut. It’s been a trying day. “If you do all that, we would not be together anymore.”
“Stubborn human,” Mikhail hears her say, distantly, “either way, I won’t be here anymore, won’t I?”
He doesn’t reply. He falls asleep, nestled in the demoness’s arms. As usual, like it has been for the past seven years, his dreams are wonderful. In them, he sees Lilian’s smile, and himself, in a large bed with impossibly smooth sheets that glide against his skin as Lilian pulls him to her. The dreams are beautiful, but he recognises them for what they are because they show him an impossible future.
But, for the moment, he can pretend it’s all real. And so he does.
The senior exorcists are arguing again.
He can hear them, through the thin walls of their headquarters; little bits and pieces of a familiar conversation. About him and his inevitable death and potential successors. He rolls his eyes as the voices grow louder; disagreements over who has power equal to his the main reason behind the discourse. Unsaid is the implication that none of the candidates have anything close to his strength and experience.
( “Know that this is all you’ll ever be worth.” )
He huffs and prepares to walk past the room before a new voice joins the conversation-
“ -won’t do it! ”
Lilian? He frowns. Why is she talking to the senior exorcists? He bites his bottom lip, the urge to know gnawing at him.
Damn it, he curses.
Sliding up against the door, Mikhail breathes out, closes his eyes, and focuses. A thread of his power slips under the door. His ‘seeing eye’ had been one of the first things he learned. Through it, he can see the senior exorcists gathered around a long table, with Lilian beside Senior Exorcist Avery. The elderly exorcist looks displeased, standing next to Lilian, but she does not complain when Lilian continues arguing with Senior Exorcist Valerius.
“We have given you plenty of options, demon!” Valerius snarls. His shiny robes ripple as he shifts to a more aggressive stance. “You’ve rejected every single one of them!”
“That’s because I don’t want them!” Lilian yells. Her eyes blaze and Mikhail swallows, his heartbeat quickening as Lilian slams her hands down on the table. It audibly creaks from her strength. “You keep lining these little exorcists up when I’m telling you, all I want is Mikhail!”
Oh. Despite himself, Mikhail blushes. But the next sentence, uttered in a severe tone, makes him pale.
“Be that as it may,” a voice drawls, deep and terrifying. “You do not have a choice.”
The man who spoke - Senior Exorcist Cassius - looks completely relaxed in his seat. An older gentleman with greying hair, his thin bones stick through his skin and give him the appearance of a frail, kindly grandfather. But his gaze speaks volumes. His eyes are the palest shade of blue Mikhail has ever seen. They’re cold and harsh; twin pools of ice that strike fear into the hearts of all he gazes upon. For good reason. Even behind the door, Mikhail can sense the senior exorcist’s power.
He shivers. There’s been- rumours. Unconfirmed, of course. But rumours that persist, nonetheless, concerning Senior Exorcist Cassius. Even back then, in the orphanage, he’s heard of the man’s exploits. Of the most powerful demons captured or destroyed, the majority are said to have fallen under the blade of Senior Exorcist Cassius - one of the few senior exorcists that favour melee weapons and forsake the aid of demons. There are not many, for only a handful of humans are skilled enough to equal a demon’s strength, much less overcome them. But Senior Exorcist Cassius is simply that strong.
And he’s in the room with Lilian.
Mikhail’s hands tremble. He hides them under his robes, but he still finds himself shaking as he listens in on the proceedings.
“I lack a choice?” Lilian scoffs. “You are the ones begging for my assistance! Lining up all these children, one by one, in hopes that they can utilise my powers.”
“Senior Exorcist Cassius is giving you a chance!” Valerius yells, his face red with exertion. “You should be grateful! Instead, here you are, screeching like a goddamn bitch-”
“Senior Exorcist Valerius,” Avery says, her brows knitting together. “Please, do restrain yourself from using such foul language.”
A pause. Then, Lilian chuckles. “No, do go on, exorcist,” she says, her voice falsely sweet. “Please, continue calling me names. Do continue proving that this is all you exorcists can do.”
Valerius’s face reddens. “You-!”
“Enough!”
The room flinches at the sound of Senior Exorcist Cassius’s roar. Except Lilian, who smirks at a cowering Valerius. Mikhail feels irrationally proud of her.
She isn’t smiling anymore when Senior Exorcist Cassius stands, his eyes locking on Lilian’s. “Heed my words, demon,” he rumbles, “You have been given seven years with young Mikhail. But the term of your contract will soon be over. You may choose to form a new one… or face death by my hand .”
No! Mikhail’s eyes widen. No, he can’t possibly-!
His ‘eyes’ dart to Lilian. Just accept another contractor! He wants to scream. Do not throw your life away! But Lilian cannot hear him. The brilliant, infuriating demoness merely scoffs at Cassius’s provocation, tossing her hair behind her shoulder
“Come on, then, exorcist.” she says, glowering. “ Try me.”
Mikhail recoils, severing his link with his ‘seeing eye’. His heart thumps wildly against his ribcage. He’s heard enough. He needs to do something - fast. Before he dies. Before Lilian rebels and decides to fight to have her one and only contractor be him. Before the exorcists kill her.
He needs to see Ivan.