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Chapter Text

Everything was difficult for Ardyn to grasp… He tried focusing on the physical world of wherever those soldiers had taken him after leaving the cave, but suffice to say, the physical aspects of his situation were not appealing. Rough bedding so terrible he kicked it off in his tormented sleep, worthless books, ill-fitting clothes, a desolate landscape… And then there was ‘his excellency Verstael’ who summoned him. Might as well head out, he told himself aloud just a few minutes ago to fill the deafening silence of such a sterile place. But was it truly worth the trouble? Who would release him from his suffering, knowing what he’d become? Certainly no one he should want to associate with.

Fine orchestral music waited behind the steel double doors, reinforced like all the others. Ardyn sighed and the guard posted at the door acted oblivious to his existence. So he should. Ardyn stepped forward and the doors automatically drew back to let him through.

Verstael brightened the moment he entered, holding his hand out in welcome. “Well, have a seat.”

In no particular hurry, Ardyn approached the wooden chair set aside for him. Though there was no plate there, the food set out looked fine enough even if his appetite was conspicuously absent. He reasoned he must be hungry on some level and took the offered seat. Slowly, while his muscles protested at the movement as if the act of getting up from bed and walking down the hall had been taxing.

And yet, thinking back to his fight on the island… No. He put that from his mind before the feeling of infecting a man with Starscourge and absorbing his memories could surface too vividly. Leaning forward with his hands clasped and head lowered instead, Ardyn began the familiar habit of prayer. He would normally go about this in quiet, but something about the empty air of this place compelled him to speak. “Gods above, we thank you for the bounty you have laid before us.”

“Mm?” Verstael interrupted, drawing his attention. “Don’t want your food getting cold, do you?”

Ardyn simply raised a hand to dismiss his question, and his silent return to his own plate was answer enough for Ardyn. He finished the rest without speaking, raising his head to see Verstael finishing a bite of his own food.

What faithless existence must this man lead, to consume without thanks? How fortunate he must be… After everything Ardyn experienced at the hands of the gods and his brother, his faith felt forced like a familiar vice rather than the safe haven it once was. To live and enjoy without a portion of his mind always on the gods and their blessing? Ardyn was thrilled and ashamed to admit to himself that it sounded like a paradise.

But who was he without the blessing of the gods? Walking in the light of the gods was the hallmark of the Lucis line… Yet here he was, sitting in a lifeless facility with haunted dreams and darkness coursing through him. Was he not already forsaken? Ardyn grimaced at his own train of thought. Surely, there must be a way back to faith and prosperity. Surely…

“Are you enjoying your stay?” Verstael interrupted once more in an attempt to be civil. To what end, he could only imagine.

“No.”

“You’ve been asleep for years. Learning to appreciate the waking world will take time,” he pardoned him as if he had any right to, gesturing Ardyn’s struggles away with a casual wave of his fork. Reaching for his wine with a glimmer of a smile, his host continued. “Perhaps I can help enlighten you while we dine.”

Ardyn had looked away from him by then, hearing Verstael taking a sip in a bizarre and unwelcome toast more than seeing it. Questions ate at him now that he was presented with an opportunity to ask. He scarcely believed he could trust this man’s answers, but what other opportunity did he have?

“So you examined my body…” He discovered as much simply from the state of his quarters but also the records available there. “Was it fruitful?” Ardyn couldn’t conceal the faint trace of curiosity from his voice. He too wanted to know how he came to be what he was now, why, and what it meant for his future. Perhaps not as much as Verstael, alarmingly, but it remained true all the same.

“Oh, yes.” Verstael was all too pleased to discuss this, it seemed. He sat back with a smug smile and elaborated. “You’re completely different than the daemons I’ve known. No wonder the Lucians kept you locked away,” he concluded with a chuckle and looked at Ardyn with open hunger. For knowledge or power or something closer to his baser urges, Ardyn wasn’t certain. And did it matter? He compared Ardyn to daemons he’d studied, a creature he understood needing to be locked away. Who would ever blame him? The horrors he committed in just a few short minutes after being released… Ardyn sat still without a word as Verstael was swept up in his own thoughts, sitting forward with a sharp brightness nesting in his eyes.

 “To think the powers of a daemon could dwell within the heart of a man. It’s incredible!” He sat back once more, arms wide as if to bask in the light of his discovery. Ardyn wondered if such a passionate expression overcame him in those sun-washed afternoons beneath the tree with Aera when he discussed service to the gods and his fellow man. Was it that passion that Aera loved in him?

“While the daemons infect your body, they also make you stronger. Your cells can regenerate themselves, and you can daemonify other life forms as well.” Ardyn felt despair wash over him as real as any tide. Casting his gaze down to the table, the food had lost any appeal it may have held. Infected—that’s what he was, and he was an infection as a result.

Not only could he no longer cure others, he spread this plague. What had he done to deserve this? How severely had he displeased the gods when all he had ever wanted, ever done, was to serve them? Somnus had been granted a throne and great prosperity for his petty spite and the mass murder of their people while Ardyn had been condemned to a life of—no. He could not think this way. Whatever the gods decided, it had to be correct. To doubt that was to throw away everything he knew and believed in.

“There’s no doubt. You are—”

“A monster.”

“Not a monster. A marvel,” he corrected with such conviction that the piece of Ardyn that wanted to believe in a new purpose for himself was very nearly convinced as well. As Verstael reached forward to him, true admiration in his gaze and smile, Ardyn wanted to accept that praise. His resonant, nearly mad laughter layered with the instrumental music as Ardyn looked up to the ornate lights hanging above.

How he so wanted to believe that this was not a punishment for transgressions, but a new opportunity to carry out another destiny—however dark a destiny it may be. Was it not better than none at all?

“I would like to ask you for further assistance.” Verstael had returned his attention to Ardyn, an idea no doubt already formed for what he might do with this ‘assistance’. There it was, the ulterior motive. He intended to pay it no mind whatsoever as long as he could.

Brushing his hair aside to lightly massage his forehead and temple to subdue the headache building there, Ardyn brought up another matter. “How long has it been since you brought me here?”

“Two hundred and four days. Roughly seven months or so.” At that answer, Ardyn lowered his hand and focused on Verstael. He didn’t appear to be lying… Ardyn pushed himself to reach for one of the crescent rolls stacked in front of him as the blond went on.

“Then again, the Lucians had you locked away in that prison for nearly two millennia. It’s completely normal if you’re losing some sense of time.” He acted so engaged in moments like this that Ardyn could nearly overlook his clear selfish interest. More importantly, no amount of examination of the bread was rousing a desire to eat it. Even a monster must eat, and yet… He held onto the roll and dropped his hand to his lap. “You must loathe those Lucians for what they did to you.”

His stomach roiled—the first response he got from it since waking. Was that his plan, then? To have Ardyn assist him in the destruction of the Lucians? Preposterous. The imprisonment was Somnus’ doing, not his people’s. They didn’t need to suffer for his brother’s crimes.

“Leave me alone,” he sighed, returning the roll to its platter. Ardyn could tell what he was after, and he wanted no part in it. …Though that was not as true as he hoped. He wanted to get back at Somnus, to hurt him in ways far worse than he had ever conceived in that tiny, jealous mind of his… But that wasn’t Ardyn. It wasn’t who he wanted to be or imagined himself being for all those years before… Before now.

“What is this food?” Anything to avoid more talk on the Lucian line and his feelings on them. Maybe a description would transform this nausea at least back to neutrality. A slice of meat presented with a sprig of herbs sat beside the rolls. Diagonally from that was a platter of greens and floral accents piled in a ring of onions surrounded by rays of thinly sliced meat plus a platter of two biscuits topped with cream, berries, and two sprouts of—perhaps it was mint. Two sauces were drizzled beside the biscuits at the outer edges of the platter, but presentation simply wasn’t enough to appeal to his appetite or quell the disgust that settled into Ardyn’s stomach.

“Meat,” he observed of only one dish, pride already apparent in his voice. “Cloned in this facility.”

Well, that certainly got his attention. Not in any way he wanted. Ardyn scowled at the very thought of duplicating life for something as simple as a meal—a flagrant disregard for the gods if he’d ever heard of one before. “Cloned?”

It was as if he asked about a passion of Verstael’s. He supposed he had. Speaking with his hands, a shamefully endearing trait in such a faithless man, Verstael launched into his description. “We cultivated somatic cells, used them as donors to fuse the nucleus-transplant cells to the recipient oocytes, and then we—”

“Oh please, talk in a language humans can understand.” But that remark itself seemed to have stopped Verstael in his rambling—a mercy, if Ardyn was to be honest. He sat back in the chair and completely surrendered the thought of this food touching his lips. “What is it you want from me, anyhow? Why did you help me?”

Ardyn fixed him with a stare, waiting for the truthful answer. If he denied a desire to take out the Lucians, he would leave this place immediately. To where, he hadn’t the slightest, but the least this man could muster after such a display was offering honesty.

“You said that the gods chose you, but frankly, with powers like yours, I’d say you’re nearly a god in your own right.” More flattery and more reaching toward him as if this act alone would compel Ardyn to join his side.

“We need those powers that you possess.” He flashed him a smile that carried over to his eyes somehow. Of everything Ardyn expected from Verstael, a charming smile was not among them. “With that kind of strength, we could finally put an end to the gruesome war with Lucis.”

Well… That was the honesty he demanded. Wasn’t that refreshing? A person who would unabashedly use him to his own ends rather than hiding behind familial ties to later murder his fiancée. If Ardyn’s fate was to be manipulated, could he not at least choose a puppeteer who would let him see the strings? Ah, but to what end? All that was left in Lucis now was the future. And he was from an era long since past. If Verstael noticed the pained grimace on his face, he either did not care or had the grace not to mention it. Who could say with a man who cared so little for anything outside his own goals?

”You, too, must desire the fall of the kingdom that cast you into exile?” And here was another of his passions, this one so strong as to get Verstael to stand when he leaned over to Ardyn that time.

“It’s… already over.” Somnus was in the ground, and so was Aera. With a heavy sigh, Ardyn put one hand on the table to push himself to his feet. ”My desires are all in the past.” With that, he turned from the seat and looped back to the door from which he came. That bed was not a comforting place, but it was leagues beyond this conversation and all the horrid thoughts it brought him.

“The man who wronged you may have died long ago, but his descendants live on to this day.” Ardyn slowed to a stop. Somnus… Had children? After daring to strike down Aera in front of Ardyn, sealing him away for thousands of years as some monster… The monster he knew himself to be as well, Ardyn thought with a scowl. After all of these transgressions, he dared to go on and start a family as the first king of Lucis? Live the very dream Ardyn himself had prided himself on achieving in the name of the gods, his people, and a fulfilling life? “Surely you haven’t settled your resentment, have you?”

The disdain was plain on his face as he gradually turned to look at Verstael. Ardyn knew as much and did nothing to conceal it. Yet his voice remained perfectly level in his reply. “My feelings have nothing to do with scum like you.”

“…Come along.” What could he do to dissuade this man from his interest? Nothing, it seemed. He led the way around the table to the opposite end of the room and another exit without waiting for a response. And why should he? It was not as though Ardyn had any means across the frozen terrain outside this facility.

Following him out the other exit and around a corner to another set of doors, Ardyn stopped when Verstael paused beside some short pedestal-like device. The memories of those he daemonified suggested it was a control panel.

“This is the fruit of my research—a small portion of it, that is.” Lights clicked on in the vast room beyond them, Verstael’s voice carrying with a faint echo through the newly lit space. How odd it was to see a fake plant in the corner by the stairs leading further into the room full of books, topographical models of continental maps, and more than he could comprehend at a glance. Like a fake plant could lend this facility the life it so desperately needed. Verstael led and out of curiosity, Ardyn followed.

“I envy you. A human life is too short to truly understand all there is to know about the world.”

Ardyn had no answer. He expected to be the subject of hatred and scorn, rightly so considering the dark powers he possessed, but open envy? He had been the subject of jealousy for years with Somnus as his brother, but it was for the love of their people and his innate charisma, intellect, and talents as a healer. Yet here Verstael was, honestly professing a longing for an immortal life that brought Ardyn only eternal suffering... What a bizarre man.

Chapter Text

Exploring his research facility revealed a great deal to Ardyn… Too much, perhaps. He regularly sat on the small couch in the bottom floor and simply stared off into the distance to process all that he’d learned. The sun on his skin was a cause of pain, for instance. To even go outside, he would need to cover himself. A marvel, Verstael said, and yet every new thing he learned made Ardyn feel ever more like a monster.

…Still, the wealth of information Verstael had began to color in more of what may have led the gods to curse him as they had. The War of the Astrals and the Fall of Solheim began first with Ifrit bestowing his power onto a man who would become the first king of Solheim—much like the Lucians. They knew prosperity under this blessing, of course. Ifrit tried to bring their kingdom to ash and the other gods intervened, causing the collapse of the very kingdom brought to rise by their power.

Some details had changed for his kingdom and his own story, but there were common elements he couldn’t deny. And desperate for a reason, Ardyn clung to these threads as they led him through all the findings in Verstael’s facility. With Ifrit felled and three gods slumbering or sealed away after their massive war, who was to say what could possibly follow a war among gods? Had a similar war occurred when Somnus was chosen by the Crystal without Aera’s knowledge? Had they turned on each other then as well, and that schism was to blame for his current condition? Ardyn finally had a passion to pursue and by the Six, did he pursue it.

Where was Bahamut? This was a crucial piece to his own puzzle; he had no doubt of that. But in all those books and recordings, there was scarcely a trace of the blade god. And in all that reading, Ardyn saw Somnus time and time again—as compared to no mention of him at all aside from Adagium locked away on the island Ardyn was found on. The rage buried deep in his heart flared at every new discovery of Somnus in the records. Not content to kill Aera and steal the throne from Ardyn, his envy went so far as to erase him from history itself.

And this practice was continued by 112 kings after him. Ardyn scowled instinctively at the insult of it all. Generations of content peace, raising their children, reading them bedtime stories, playing with them in the light of day as the true first king wasted away crucified in a black pit of a forgotten dungeon. Was there no injury the gods and Somnus would not visit upon him? As he dug into the research, the more Ardyn found himself agreeing with the recordings of Verstael.

It was not Lucis, but Somnus, who meant to one day stand above all others. He gathered his own people into piles to burn them alive for a plague they may or may not have and still, the nation struggled with that parasitic plague under his ‘care’. But here Ardyn was, living proof that one could survive with the infection and not see its negative side effects to the extent that they were daemonified. Perhaps… He was indeed not a monster, but a sign of progress. It was thinking closer to that of Verstael, who wanted to restore balance to the world without the blessing of the gods and by the work of his own merit.

Ardyn had been convinced he was a madman, and he was still not sure that he wasn’t. But he had conviction and purpose that he bestowed upon himself—more than Ardyn had ever possessed for all his riches and devotion to the gods. Maybe… Maybe it was time to consider having faith in himself and the change he could bring to the world with or without the gods. Would that be revenge enough to sate his rage for Somnus’ wrongdoing? There was only one way to know if this selfish path to peace and fulfillment was even an option for Ardyn.

As he considered it, his heart still strayed to images of the capital from both the information in the facility and the memories of his own victims. To imagine all that prosperity and safety and comfort enjoyed by his own people, the ones he had sacrificed so much for, while he wasted away without even the hope to be released by death?

He slammed the book in his hands shut, dropping it on the coffee table before him with a scowl. What had peace ever earned him? How quick they were to forget that when Somnus sought to purge the ill and any in his path, Ardyn preached acceptance and understanding in the free time that he wasn’t spending to visit the sick in their homes and rid them of the plague that would have killed them—either naturally or at Somnus’ hands. The Ardyn of the past would choose a peaceful path no matter the personal cost. And what of the Ardyn in the present?

The only thing that had softened the edge of this resentment was the image of Aera in the corner painting in the facility. To pursue vengeance was to insult her memory, but also seek retribution for her murder. Though less enraged, Ardyn was still conflicted. Verstael was correct in that no Oracle could be persuaded to join a cause like his.

Footsteps from the staircase behind the couch disturbed Ardyn from his musings. “Fascinating, isn’t it? I pored over the ancient texts and found scarcely a mention of you. I barely believed you existed until I saw you with my own eyes.” He paused at the base of the stairs, looking over to Ardyn as he crossed his arms. He waited there for only a moment as an unspoken invitation to follow him as he walked deeper into the facility. “With your help, my research is proceeding smoothly. You have my thanks.”

And of course, Ardyn followed. His distrust of Verstael had not dissolved, but he felt a greater kinship with him than he had prior. If nothing else, the potential of forging one’s own destiny rather than having it granted upon them moved Ardyn enough to hear this man out long enough to distill any other new ideas from his ravings.

Chapter Text

The first daemonification Ardyn completed was sharp at first, a sudden headache giving way to an almost dream-like state as the memories of the Lucian guard found a home in Ardyn’s mind. The stranger’s knowledge of all the technology available to the modern era, from cars and crossing lights to television and cellphones, belonged to Ardyn as his life came to an end. The realization of what Ardyn had done joined with the sensation of intrusive memories, and overexertion in his undying form dragged him into unconsciousness.

It was Verstael again who rescued him then.

But adjusting to daemonifying Ifrit was a task no one could save Ardyn from. He was embittered before, but the rage in his heart had been cold and still. Where he originally fostered good will and understanding, Ardyn found only jaded indifference. He could not have been troubled to seek vengeance.

The addition of Ifrit was a symbolic one in that it stoked the flames of fury within Ardyn. Before, he languished on the couches of the facility, denied himself food, and desired only to rest however much the nightmares would allow. Now, he could scarcely manage a few hours of sleep before he awoke to an all-consuming restlessness. Ardyn still had little interest in eating, but there was no inclination to sit and sink into despair. He instead found beasts in the wild to fight against, honing his newfound powers further and imagining the demise of Somnus’ kingdom with such clarity that made him feel alive.

Not a warped monster wrought by the cruelty of the gods that spurned him, but a person empowered by his own will to forge ahead where they dared not send any man. The hours he spent in the snowy mountainsides of Niflheim cackling like a madman and relishing in victory after victory, slaughter after slaughter, envisioning the bright city of Insomnia in ruins—a part of him was horrified.

Washing blood of creatures off his hands when he finally returned to the facility, untouched by the cold, he felt nothing. The communal barracks bathroom simply happened to be closest to the entrance he came across first, and at this hour, no one was awake to witness his vacant stare into the matte mirror before him. He rested damp hands on either side of the wall-mounted sink, staring into lightless eyes he scarcely recognized. This was not who he wanted to be. Even if the gods were to shun him, Ardyn could choose to heal still.

The sink cracked beneath his hands, and he threw it across the room with a wordless scream. He called on his royal arms, an accursed reminder of what might have been if the gods had chosen the right king.

“Is that what you would have me be?!” Water spilled onto the ground from the broken pipe below the sink, and Ardyn turned his rage blindly to whatever he could reach. Toiletries scattered across the room as he sliced through storage cabinets, and debris piled up from the general wreckage he left in his wake from stalls and shelving. “Clinging to a destiny you taunted me with, only to tear it away! You chose Somnus, an unrepentant murderer of his own people, to rule!”

A dark laugh tore through him and with nothing remaining to wreck there, Ardyn left the bathroom to find another area to tear apart.

“Since you coveted the bloodshed Somnus carried out, I will show you true destruction!” Shattering lights and toppling bookshelves along the halls as he went, Ardyn shouted for the gods to hear no matter where they oversaw their ruin of his life. “You chose the king who sentenced the people of his kingdom to suffer; that was your choice!”

This rage was not only his own, and the searing intensity of the Infernian’s resentment towards humanity and the Astrals blended indistinguishably with Ardyn’s own, compounding into a limitless well of darkness that corroded any hope for forgiveness. And why should he forgive those who were never once apologetic? Implicit, even, in the death of all he held dear.

“I will bring to pass the worst damnation you can ever imagine! Will you have me now?!”

“Intriguing,” Verstael remarked blearily from a nearby doorway. Stifling a yawn, he shook his head as Ardyn dismissed his weapon. “You were not nearly so violent before daemonifying Ifrit. Do you believe there is a connection?”

“Oh, my dear Verstael,” he teased, drawing close to cup his face gently. “You have more pressing matters to concern yourself with. Tell me, what are your thoughts on extensive water damage from broken pipes?”

“Worth every headache for a wonder such as yourself.” Still, he withdrew into his room to summon maintenance or some such, Ardyn assumed.

In turn, he set out again to find more beasts to massacre and would not return until the threat of dawn.

Chapter Text

His overall instability was rising weekly, maybe daily, and it showed no signs of slowing. Daemonifying more soldiers regularly was only exacerbating matters as he drowned out his own identity in those of his victims. At the very least, Ardyn no longer swung wildly between horror and indifferent mirth. Rare were the days where he felt anything but voracious spite and wry amusement.

Impulses, however, were as frequent as ever. How else would have ended up in front of a mirror and cutting his hair to discard the last of his former self—once he killed Regis as well, of course. The compliant Ardyn of old would never seize control of Lucis and kill her false king, and it was only appropriate to look the part for his planned regicide.

The door to Verstael’s room hissed open as Ardyn hummed a wandering tune and snipped, admiring his work in progress. Not quite even, but easier on the eyes already. “I have come to detest seeing my former self in every reflection,” he offered in lieu of a greeting, regardless of not belonging in this room to begin with. Ardyn enjoyed his little taunts for his benefactor and suspected Verstael did as well. “I am not the man I once was.”

“I should say not. You are better,” he emphasized, tossing his cloak on the end of the bed. He moved to stand behind Ardyn and rested a gloved hand on the back of the seat while the other was extended palm up beside him. He had fine hands, a perfect mix of steady and elegant that lent themselves to the vocation he’d chosen. Clad in black, they had an air of promise and menace Ardyn indulged in. “Though long hair suits you, and you are terrible with a pair of scissors. Allow me to assist you,” he said as more of a command than a request, but he was inclined to comply regardless.

Smirking over his shoulder, Ardyn withheld the scissors and tapped the flat of them lightly against himself. Verstael was a sinister man who drew no line he would not then cross, but he was unashamed of it. He was exactly as he made himself out to be, and there was no deceit to be found in his actions. Ardyn could trust him to be exactly what he presented himself to be. And after Somnus’ unrepentant betrayal and his growing doubts of Aera’s integrity that he may never assuage, was that not a relief? Chuckling, Ardyn handed over the scissors gladly. “If you insist. What’s the worst that could come to pass? It is not as though you could kill me.”

Verstael closed his hand around the scissors with a laugh and set about separating out his hair for easier cutting. “After all a treasure such as yourself has done for my research? Even if I could, I would never.”

Holding a strand of hair between two fingers, Verstael slid his hand down his hair in a bizarrely soothing gesture and met Ardyn’s gaze in the mirror. “Cutting it in layers would enhance your natural traits, I believe.”

“Whatever looks becoming on me to you suits me perfectly,” he teased, almost purring that last word.

Blue eyes lingered on him in their reflection for another beat or two of silence. Examining him for some scientific finding or another, perhaps... And then he began cutting away long wisps of hair, all falling away like burdens of bonds and obligations long since dead and decayed. Yes, this change would represent the liberated harbinger of hard-earned demise that Ardyn had been honed into. Both by the cruelty of the gods and the honest, ugly ambitions of one rather fetching man.

Chapter Text

Originally designed to test the effects of sunlight on daemonkind, the solar irradiator also suited testing purposes for close-quarters and long-term combat for Ardyn. Larger rooms below, such as the one where he fought Lucian soldiers or the Infernian, were not technically built to sustain his daemonic powers and required too much caution from Ardyn for the results to be worth it—according to Verstael observing him beyond the barred walls. Ardyn did not much care these days where or what he fought if it staved off the ravenous bitterness stewing in his heart.

Fighting in a blur of red light and thick swirls of black and purple smoke, Ardyn cackled manically. The Starscourge coursed through him, molten and roiling, with the atmospheric energy of his royal arms charged like the air before a brutal storm. Oh, and what a storm he made. Sliding seamlessly in and out of darkness, Ardyn was not confined to the corporeal like others were. The destruction and havoc wrought by his hand was exquisite and as divine as Verstael had always claimed. It paled in comparison to the damage dealt in his undying state, which he sometimes craved for its untethered anguish, but this would be enough to sate him for today.

And Verstael as well. His analytical gaze fixed on Ardyn, no simple task, and a voracious grin drew attention to his graceful features. Despite the indomitable drive nested within his twisted, gnarled heart, there was a delicate quality to Verstael as well. He was too keenly aware of his short time on Eos and he yearned for more. It was precisely that selfish, curious disregard for the will of the gods and order of nature that Ardyn most prized in him.

When the last daemon he fought faded away in a haze, the gates whirred open to Verstael already up the staircase and through the doors.

“Excellently done,” he praised with that enthusiastic edge to his voice whenever an experiment went his way. “Ardyn, these findings—”

Dismissing the royal arms with a sweeping gesture, Ardyn strode up to Verstael and snaked a hand behind his neck to brace him for what came next. Namely, Ardyn drawing him into a heated kiss. A hand pressed against his chest in surprise, joined by a muffled noise of shock, but that quickly disappeared as the muscles in his neck relaxed. Wrapping his fingers tightly in Ardyn’s scarf, Verstael tilted his head and kissed him back. As though he’d been the one fighting with wanton abandon, the thrill of it still surging in his veins… Heh. Ah, Verstael.

Ardyn gave into what they both wanted, deepening the kiss until Verstael turned away to breathe. A flattering blush dusted his fair cheeks while Ardyn allowed the poor chief researcher to collect himself.

“Well, that was all very sudden, wasn’t it?”

“Breathtaking,” he agreed, talking quite literally as he was prone to. An eagerness flared in his crystalline blue eyes before he’d so much as made eye contact with Ardyn. “I wonder what caused it. Perhaps, with further study—”

Chuckling, Ardyn caressed from his neck up into the hair at the base of his head. “Oh, Verstael. If you want more, you need only ask.”

Verstael looked unusual like that, almost hopeful, warmth blazing brighter across his freckled cheeks. Almost cute. And here Ardyn thought he knew every aspect of the man who rescued him from that wretched prison. His gnawing determination that knew no limits or moral boundaries. His unshakable confidence in his skills. The perilously fragile dream to be immortal. And then, this: a longing for something more from Ardyn himself. A monster, a stain upon Eos that marred the proud name of Lucis, but not to Verstael. Never to him. Where even Ardyn had seen a cursed existence and nothing more, Verstael realized his potential beyond simply suffering.

Of which there was still plenty to be had, naturally. By the gods, there was an ample supply. And yet… Ardyn smirked, taking his hand away to remove Verstael’s from his scarf.

“What are you—?”

“I am waiting,” Ardyn taunted him with his answer. Trailing two fingers along the angled jawline of his apparent subject of desire, Ardyn brought his voice down to a menacing tease. “But you should know by now that I am not patient.”

As predicted, Verstael’s eyes sharpened at that. He did love a challenge, and Ardyn was glad to indulge his baser impulses. “Then why bother with waiting?”

“Why?” Ardyn echoed, punctuating the question with another flippant laugh. “Why, because I wish to hear you ask me.” Trotting past Verstael and down the steps, Ardyn rested against the back of one of the lifeless and bland couches in this sterile place they so generously called home. “What lover wouldn’t long to hear how their beloved longs for them?”

And how that blush was united with his exasperated scowl were absolutely everything Ardyn could have hoped for. Where was the joy in following the winding trail of this if he was not going to humor his own need to push Verstael from time to time?

With pointed steps to wait at the top of the stairs, just beyond where the gates closed behind him, Verstael clearly committed his clever mind to outmaneuvering Ardyn in this little game of theirs. “I would like to ask you for further assistance in this matter.”

“Hm? Silly me, it seems I have forgotten.” Tapping his chin in mock thoughtfulness, Ardyn let a playful smirk take over when he did stand from the couch to wait at the base of the steps for the blond to make his move in return for this question. “What matter would that be?”

Brushing past Ardyn, Verstael picked up a data pad or some such and busied himself with it. To have an excuse to feign disinterest in their recent endeavor, most likely. Verstael may be a man of considerable scientific experience, but this was a realm he had a stark lack of knowledge in.

“I’ll send in a round of Lucian prisoners for you to daemonify. After you have finished, let’s see if we can’t recreate that encounter between us.”

“It’s a start,” Ardyn compromised, walking up the metal staircase again to the den where hapless daemons and enemy soldiers went to perish. Nastily, if he had anything to say about it. He could care less about the start to this test, which only gave more data for Verstael and his team to build their theories and inventions around. What could be more intriguing to a man cursed with no release from all that plagued him than an unexpected confession of feelings from the insatiable, faithless man that freed him when all others shunned him in disgust?

Ardyn tipped his hat as the gate shut again, and the royal arms came to him in a flash of ethereal red light. “Do enjoy the show, my darling.”