Chapter Text
You know that feeling that you are being watched?
Imagine stumbling upon the largest, most beautiful, most grandiose mansion you've seen. More like some sort of fairy tale castle, really: blue and silver flags weave graceful patterns from atop tall turrets, and all around you, butterflies and rare flowers are dancing in the wind. Then the huge iron doors slam shut behind you, plunging you into absolute darkness. Torches burst into flame, bathing the long dark corridors in ghostly blue light. Swallowing thickly, you take a tentative step forward. The tiny sound of your boot scuffing against the ancient sandstone walkway echoes throughout the cavernous space like a branch snapping in a forest full of wolves. You catch the gleam of eyes in the darkness, and you clutch the hard little pendant clutched to your chest until your palm bleeds. Remember why you came here.
As you descend the crumbling steps at the end of the hall, the air grows so cold the sweat on the back of your neck seems to turn to ice. At last, the final door swings open, and you're standing in the glittering, satin-draped throne room of the strongest man in the world.
And there's a goddamned snow leopard watching you.
Polnareff swallowed another mouthful of nervous spit. Swishing its thickly furred tail, the animal stared back at him unblinkingly with eyes like pools of ice, eyes that he knew had been spying on him. A gem-encrusted collar had been latched firmly around its neck. It sniffed the air with its pink nose, its small, round-tipped ears lowering at what it smelled.
He was so preoccupied by the cat's beauty that he only just noticed the huge hand stroking its long, luxuriously soft fur. The flickering blue light caught the snow leopard's lustrous white pelt and nothing else, casting the man's face in shadow. Polnareff caught the faint glistening of sharp teeth as he smiled.
“Jean-Pierre Polnareff, is it? I've heard some very impressive things about you,” the dark figure purred. “A man of your talents could prosper greatly here, in my court.”
“I'm not here seeking prosperity, or your approval,” Polnareff said. “I want one thing, and one thing only. The head of the man who killed my sister.”
“A man of action. I like that.” The man rose, sending the snow leopard tumbling off his lap. It righted itself in midair and landed with a hiss, where it began to lick itself furiously in the manner of offended cats. His host was easily as impressive as the animal, if not more so. Tawny gold hair streamed down the exquisitely sculpted muscles of the man's back, and his eyes were as the deep scarlet of blood gushing from a severed artery. “I would introduce myself, but if you're here, you already know my name, and what I am capable of.”
Dio snapped his fingers. “Come now, Kakyoin, don't be rude. Say hello to our guest.”
"What purpose does he serve?” the leopard asked. “You heard him yourself. He has his own agenda, and no loyalty to anyone except himself.”
“That's a little harsh, isn't it? You're hardly in the position to cast judgment. Cats are not exactly the most loyal of animals,” Dio tutted. “Loyalty must be earned. He'll come to see the value of our cause in due time. In the meantime, I'm sure you must be hungry. Your meal has been prepared by the finest chefs in all the land, and it is almost ready to be served.”
He clapped his massive hands, and at once, the chamber was filled with light. In every alcove stood a different animal, standing on their hind legs and staring up at him with something almost pleading in their eyes. There were a tiger and a crocodile, small wild cats and a hyena, a python, an ostrich, and several creatures Polnareff could not name. Each of them wore a collar, but none so fancy as the one around Kakyoin's neck. They flew from their posts in one single, fluid motion and filed silently behind their master as he threw back his velvet-lined cape and strode purposely toward the dining hall.
Polnareff could only gasp at the interior. Soft light filtered through elaborate filagreed lanterns, lighting up countless paintings and statuary Polnareff had only seen in his father's art books. Millennia-old marble busts thought destroyed in Pompeii, paintings by the great masters that had been missing for decades...some of these pieces had to be literally priceless. Even the furniture was all beautifully veined and polished to a jewel-like luster, each piece carved with astonishing care and fit for a palace.
To Polnareff's surprise, the animals all scrabbled onto the velvet cushions with their four paws and sat primly at the gigantic dining table. As each part of the menagerie took their seat, their features melted like wax flowing from a candle. Polnareff blinked, and just like that, there were nearly forty grim-faced men and women sitting where an entire zoo's worth of exotic beasts had been.
“Surely you didn't think you were the only skin changer here, did you?” Dio bent to whisper in Polnareff's ear. “It's much easier to hold a knife and fork this way, though some disdain cutlery altogether, as you'll soon discover.”
A tall, slim young man with strangely colored hair piled on top of his head glided in, his posture so rigid his shoes barely seemed to touch the ground. Except....he wasn't wearing shoes. Beneath each pant leg was a three-toed taloned foot. A magnificent blue and green peacock tail trailed after him, and when he bowed low, Polnareff saw that bands of tiny black feathers ringed his round golden eyes, giving his face a mask-like appearance.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” The bird-man rang a tiny silver chime. “Dinner is served.”
Golden platters, silver skewers, carving boards, porcelain soup tureens, ice-filled trays, and countless other dishes were all whisked onto the glossy African blackwood table lightning fast, each one brimming with raw fillets and braised meats marinated in the rarest spices. The sight normally would have had Polnareff salivating, but underneath the saffron and juniper berries was a raw, copper-tinged odor that disquieted him. Nevertheless, he picked up a golden fork and a silk napkin. Even the goddamn salt shakers looked expensive in this place.
As the strange animal-people began to eat, Polnareff noticed that their features weren't completely human. A strikingly beautiful young woman seated across from him was covered in soft, pale, isabelline fur that shimmered in the candlelight and contrasted, not unflatteringly, with her shoulder-length silver hair. Her pupils were long and narrow, and when she bit into a rack of lamb, her teeth were as sharp as steak knives. Polnareff counted horns, hooves, tails, manes, and even fins and feathers peaking out of the diners' coats or evening gowns. Until the day his sister died, he thought that he and his sister were the only two skin changers in the world. Now he was surrounded by dozens of them, and he didn't find it comforting at all.
Was one of them Sherry's killer?
At the center of the table was an enormous pewter and jade platter almost as long as he was tall. The man with the peacock tail raised the lid with much flourishing of his hands, and beneath a silvery shroud of steam was an enormous fattened pig with an apple in its mouth. Polnareff was just about to reach for his knife when he realized that no one else had reached for theirs. In fact, most of the menagerie had stopped eating entirely. Some shot him an appraising look from behind steepled fingers, while others looked as if they were barely stifling a cruel laugh. Only the leopard boy, Kakyoin, couldn't seem to meet his eye. He stared glumly at his own plate, his food mostly untouched.
“Guests first,” said another beautiful young man to his right, this one dark-haired, yellow-eyed, and reeking of jackal. This was becoming a trend!
“Just try a bite,” a purple-haired girl with tiger-striped skin purred in his ear. “Use your nose. You'd know if there was something wrong with it, right?”
“Doesn't it smell delicious?” came a dry, crackling voice to his left. A wizened, nut-brown face grinned toothlessly at him, dirty white feathers draped like a shawl over her stooped shoulders.
'Don't do it' Kakyoin mouthed.
“Actually, I think I'm full.” Polnareff rose to his feet, patting his empty gut. Of course, his stomach just had to growl at the worst possible time! “Really. Couldn't eat another bite.”
“My dear Jean-Pierre,” Dio intoned, pushing Polnareff back into his seat with surprising strength. “If you're going to stay in this house as my guest, or associate yourself with my organization in any capacity, I must insist that you accept my hospitality. Surely a man of culture such as yourself knows that it's bad manners to refuse a generous meal from their host?”
“Maybe I don't want to!” Polnareff snapped. “I'm not on vacation here, you know! I don't have time to sit around eating pork chops!”
“I'm not a man inclined to ask for what ought to be freely offered, Polnareff.” Dio licked his lips, tasting each word like a tender morsel. “Loyalty. Trust me. Serve me. Live for me. Follow my every command. Or do not, and walk out of here just as alone and clueless as you were when you entered.” With snap of poached tendons and grinding bones, he twisted the pig's left leg off the body and bit down, letting hot grease run down his chin. “Does your sister's honor mean so little to you that you won't even eat one piece of meat?”
Kakyoin shook his head frantically when he thought Dio wasn't looking, but Polnareff knew he had already been defeated. With a shudder, he popped a sliver of meat into his mouth and chewed. It tasted...normal. Fine-grained and well-marbled, nice and juicy, but nothing different from what you'd find in a fancy restaurant.
“See, that wasn't so hard,” Dio beamed down at him. He reached for Polnarefff as if he were about to put his hands on his shoulders like a proud father. Instead, Polnareff heard a dull clink of metal. Metal that was pressing around his throat in a vice-like grip. “Now you belong to me.”
“What?!” Polnareff sputtered, pawing stupidly at his neck. “How did—why--?”
“I don't like to repeat myself, but in this case, I don't mind,” Dio smirked. “Loyalty has to be earned. And you've certainly earned your place at my side, taking a big bite right out of a man's leg after only a little quibbling. Skin changers who taste the flesh of men are bound to me forever.”
Polnareff reached out a hand to steady himself, his vision swimming. It was a pig. He was sure of it. He and Sherry grew up on a farm. He was used to seeing the animals he had helped raise on the supper table, and he knew what a hog roasted on a spit tasted like.
He wasn't sure what he expected Dio to do, but reaching inside the sleeve of his robe and pulling out a tiny figurine carved from what looked like ivory definitely wasn't it. As Dio held it aloft, Polnareff could see it was shaped like a pig.
“You see this? I have dozens of these little trinkets. Cows, pigs, lions, tigers, birds, insects...I have one of each. All I have to do is slip it into your pocket, whisper the incantation, and the next thing you know, you'll be in a very different body,” Dio said. “Very handy for disposing of disagreeable persons.”
“You bastard!”
“Sit,” Dio commanded.
As Polnareff surged forward, reaching for a handful of Dio's cape, his body betrayed him. A strange numbness crept into his limbs, as if an invisible force was wrapping around his joints.
His legs weakened, his knees buckling, and before he could comprehend what was happening, he felt himself falling backward. He landed with a thud onto the chair, his body seemingly working against his will.
“Wh-what?” he stammered.
“Speak.” Dio stared down at him, his full lips curling into a smile.
“Yes, Lord Dio.” The words had barely left his lips before Polnareff clapped a shaking hand over his mouth, his eyes bulging with fury and terror.
“Down.” Dio held his hand out, palm down, about a meter above the floor. The chair clattered to the floor as Polnareff dropped to his knees, his own palms flat on the unyielding stone. His head was roughly level with Dio's hand, and he felt the thick, clawed fingers stroking his hair as a pleased master might a stroke dog's head.
“How intriguing!” Dio intoned from somewhere above Polnareff's bowed head. “In all my travels across the jungles and savannas, I had yet to acquire a pet bear. And such a strong one, too! Perhaps I should dress you up in a tutu and have you dance for me!”
“Stop it!” Polnareff cried. “Why are you doing this? I--"
A whip snapped just above his head, cracking like thunder. The length of dark, braided leather appeared in Dio's clawed hand as if it had been willed into existence by pure, burning malice. The beast folk cowered in their chairs, covering their sensitive ears, and a collective shiver passed through the group. Kakyoin hugged his long, fluffy tail, clinging to it like a security blanket.
How many times had this boy felt Dio's whip on his own back?
“Or perhaps I should have you eat one of your new friends,” Dio whispered into his ear. Under the satiny veil of expensive cologne, he could smell the sun-baked, bristling pelt of a lion, and the steam seeping from Dio's nostrils smelled of raw meat. The dry, pepper tang of the savanna wafted his mane, and his feet, the only part of Dio he could see, were covered in thick, golden fur. But this was no normal lion. Every inch of both man and beast stank of evil. “I could do that, you know. At my command, you would rise from that floor and swallow any man or woman in this room whole. Or--" he paused thoughtfully, running his fingers through Kakyoin's long red hair. "I could make them crawl down your throat."
'Leave him alone!' Polnareff shouted in his mind as the boy shuddered and tried to shrink away, but his lips would not obey him.
Dio swept his hand across the room, and all of the beast-folk shivered in their pelts. Kakyoin the leopard boy stared down at his untouched plate in wordless resignation. “Who should be first to die? Who should I have you kill, Polnareff?” Dio's hand twisted in Polnareff's silver hair, and blood beaded up on his claws where they dug into his scalp.
“No one! No one!” Polnareff shouted, struggling to make himself heard over the growing din of panicked whispers. “I...I...I only want justice for my family! Please, just stop this!”
“Very well.” The heavy paw left his head with a whisper of tough, leathery pads, the claws thankfully sheathed. “I believe my demonstration has been adequate. But I am a practical man at heart. What, or should I say, whom, will you offer me, for the life of the man you intend to kill?”
What indeed.
***
The first thing Polnareff smelt when he woke up was warm fur. Fur, and the lingering scent of scorched animal hair.
He blinked up at the noonday sun. By chance, a noisy flock of grackles flew past his eyes, giving him a slight start, and he gasped, a tiny, wheezing noise in the back of his throat. As his chest expanded, filling his lungs with crisp autumn air, he realized, very suddenly that there was no cold metal bolted around his throat. There it lay, shattered into a million pieces. The mind-controlling collar that had been kept in Dio's thrall for months.
“It's...gone?” Polnareff asked, to no one in particular, touching the bare skin around his neck for the first time in months. “I'm...free?”
The source of the fur-smell quickly made itself apparent. A pink nose was poking at him, sniffing, making the hairs on the top of his head rise and fall with each breath it took. A pair of huge, gold-veined turquoise stared into his, and two snowshoe-like paws were braced against his chest. “K-Kakyoin?” he rasped.
“Looks like he's not dead after all,” the leopard boy commented dryly. He leapt off Polnareff and trotted up the feet of a tall, broad-shouldered man who stared down at him with unblinking golden eyes. He had a powerful nose with a distinctive kink as if it had been broken at least once, and there was a curious pattern of scars beneath the gold bangles on his wrists. Polnareff could smell a hint of sweet almond oil emanating from the elaborate knots atop his head.
Polnareff sat up, rubbing the back of his head. The last thing he remembered was the other skin-changer diving at his eyes—no, he definitely did NOT want to remember. It was a little scary, sometimes, how much damage their bodies could take. “I guess this means I lost?”
“You tell me,” the stranger said, offering Polnareff a hand up. He took it, the lightly calloused skin of the man's palm somehow warmer than Kakyoin's thick plush coat. “You do you feel lost?”