Chapter Text
Yunho can't stand walking against the wind.
His face is burning with cold. He can barely see, his jaw feels frozen shut, and the only thing keeping him from giving up and collapsing on the spot is Ignis growling at his side.
He can barely hear Mingi's rough voice over the wind. "We're nearing the road." He has to press his lips to Yunho's ear to be heard. "Johann said they'll be traveling in a group of four. I doubt they're well protected, this should be a cinch."
Yunho nods stiffly, too cold to unclench his jaw and answer. Djel, he hates long missions like this. The crunching of the snow under his boots and the wind howling around him is driving him insane.
Ignis tenses next to him. He runs his hand over her head gently, feeling her fur stand on end. Someone is nearby.
"That would be them, i suppose," Mingi says grimly.
"Them". The four Grisha traveling from Cryana, the country Yunho and Mingi's families are rooted in. The four demons that Yunho and his work partner and their loyal wolves are set to bring in for trial.
Yunho knows the result of the trial already. For the Grisha demons, it's always the same.
He grips a knife in his hand and creeps forward, eyes on the road. He can make out four vague shapes struggling against the wind, and almost smirks. The demons are having even more trouble than him.
"Halt!" Mingi roars.
The four figures go still. Yunho squirms a little as he approaches them, trying his best to stay away.
He knows their power will be of no use here. The powers of a Tidemaker, a Fabrikator, an Inferni, or a Tailor would be worthless here; a Squallor or a Healer could only perform the most basic acts under the right circumstances, and as for the last and most dreaded form of Grisha demon, none has been seen for a century. Yunho isn't worried. All the same, he tries not to get too close.
He and Mingi stride forward with more vigor than either showed anywhere on the journey. Ignis continues to growl.
"You're under arrest," Yunho says smartly, and he grips one arm in each hand, pulling the two Grisha nearest to him up to his side. Mingi reaches out to do the same, but freezes suddenly, his whole arm going limp. He sways dangerously on the spot.
"Mingi!" Yunho shouts stupidly, but his companion collapses in the snow, his body limp as a rag doll. Yunho's throat hurts from the cold and his shout, but he swallows the pain and pushes forward.
"What the fuck did you do to him?" he roars at all four of the Grisha in general, his body tensing in fury. They remain ominously silent.
Then the tallest of the four steps forward. Yunho immediately senses a leader; the demon moves with grace and authority, the hood of a red velvet cloak hiding their face from view.
"You will let my brothers go," a low, gentle voice says.
Yunho tightens his grip. "No the hell I won't. What did you do to Mingi?"
"He is not dead," the Grisha says dismissively, waving a delicate gloved hand. "You will let my brothers go."
"No."
"Then he will soon be dead."
"You won't lay a hand on him."
The demon laughs. That low voice is disgustingly seductive, intoxicating. "I have no need to touch him, Drüskelle. No need."
Yunho feels his pulse slowing in his chest. His head spins, and he dimly registers his limp arms freeing the two Grisha he had caught hold of. He sinks to his knees, the cold seeping through his thick clothes, and collapses on the cold ground in a pathetic heap.
"Sleep," says the Heartrender softly. "You have nothing to fear now. I am not like your people. I do not hurt those who are defenseless."
The last prayer Yunho sends up to Djel before he slips into unconsciousness is barely a whisper. At least, let Ignis give them hell.
...
Yunho wakes to darkness.
It takes a moment for everything to hit him. He sits up quickly, his head spinning, and looks dizzily around for Mingi.
He's inside a building, he realizes; it's startlingly warm. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he becomes aware that he's resting on a cot in a small, dark room, and he's not tied or chained, nor is the figure slumped on the floor next to him.
Mingi.
Yunho shakes him awake frantically. His pulse is back to normal, but his insides twist at the thought of a Heartrender so near to them, carrying the power to kill them with a simple flick of the hand. Mingi sits up groggily and seems to realize their situation even more quickly than Yunho did. They simply stare at each other for a moment, at a loss for what to say or do now.
"I thought there were no Heartrenders left," Mingi says in a low voice, finally breaking the silence. "None seen for a century. It's what Johann said... I thought-"
"So did I," says Yunho grimly.
The door to the room they're in creaks open, and the figure of a man is silhouetted in the doorway.
Even without the cloak, Yunho recognizes the leader of the four Grisha. He's slender and built like a dancer, graceful lines and curves but no lack of muscle. His face is still hidden in shadow.
Yunho takes in his outfit and murmers a prayer to Djel, scandalized.
Red is the demon's thing, he supposes. A jacket the color of blood over a black velvet top cut short to expose his waist, and tight red pants that define every line and movement of his lower body. Yunho averts his eyes and swears.
"Relax," he curses that gentle voice. "I'm not here to hurt you."
"I will die before I consent to your demonic seduction," Mingi snarls next to him.
"I am rather unlikely to attempt seducing you," the Grisha says cheerfully, "as you are both quite ugly. It would be a waste of my time."
"Ugly?" Yunho yelps.
Mingi gives him a look, and he feels heat flooding his face, humiliated by his own outburst. The last thing he should be worried about right now is what a demon thinks of his looks.
The Grisha tilts his head. "Leading innocent humans to their deaths as a paying job makes you ugly from the inside out." He steps closer. "I hope you know I have no respect whatsoever for either of you."
He extends a hand and with one red-painted fingernail, he flicks a switch on the dusty grey wall. The light falls over his face, and Yunho's angry retort dies in his throat.
He has never seen a face like it. Dark, wide eyes and heavy yet perfectly shaped eyebrows, flawless skin tanned by the sun of another country's sky, sharp features that give an impression of being regal, rather than harsh. His gaze lingers on the full, plush lips painted by bloodred lipstick, then travel down over the jawline and high cheekbones, and back up to those beautiful eyes.
The face is like a work of beautiful art, framed by soft silver-purple hair. This demon wears the mask of an angel. Yunho swears again, with slightly less fervor this time.
"My name is Seonghwa," the Grisha states simply. "I am a Heartrender from Cryana." He smiles as though Yunho and Mingi are children. "You are in my house now, and as long as you respect me, I will not hurt you."
"My wolf-" Yunho breathes.
"-is fine and quite happy," Seonghwa finishes. "I do not regret to inform you that your animal does not appear to share your views on Grisha. Relax; you are too tense. I will be back with food in a moment."
He spins gracefully and vanishes through the door. Yunho turns to stare at Mingi.
"Fuck," Mingi says, which Yunho thinks is a pretty good summary of their situation.
...
Seonghwa returns with food as promised. Yunho and Mingi refuse to eat.
"You are not hungry?" Seonghwa inquires. He raises a beautiful eyebrow. "Or you mistrust that I may have poisoned the food?"
"Well," Yunho begins sullenly.
"I do not poison my cooking," Seonghwa scoffs. "Fool. Eat it. You have to eat, or you will starve."
"I know," Yunho snaps. He takes a hesitant sip from the cup of soup before him.
It tastes like heaven. Yunho suddenly doesn't give a damn if it's poisoned. He's hungry, and Seonghwa's cooking is divine. He takes another, much larger sip.
"So I thought," says Seonghwa, his tone maddeningly smug. "Eat it all. We can talk when you are done."
He leaves no room for arguments, but his prisoners are much too preoccupied with their soup to have said a word anyway.
...
Seonghwa opens their friendly conversation by announcing, "you tried to kill my brothers."
Mingi makes a lazy humming sound in his throat, his eyes fixed on Seonghwa's lips. Yunho pinches him as hard as he can, scowling.
"We did not try to kill anyone," Yunho says harshly. "Our job is to bring Grisha to the trials. If they are innocent-"
"What are the accusations?" Seonghwa's tone is deadly calm. "What are we on trial for? What are we arrested for? We have committed no crimes. Violence is not in our nature."
He speaks as though he is detached from this world. Yunho reminds himself that Seonghwa is not human; he is a Grisha, an accursed demon, a plague.
"Your power is not natural," Mingi begins.
"We are born with it," Seonghwa interrupts. "It is no less natural that your deep voice or your height. It is in our blood. We have not stolen it, we do not perform witchcraft. It is simply part of us."
"You-"
"Our crime is existing," Seonghwa says, and those dark eyes are suddenly flashing. "That is what we await our inevitable arrests and trials for- and deaths, for no Grisha has ever been declared innocent by your court."
"Death is not guaranteed," Yunho says quietly, but even as he speaks the words, he knows it's a lie.
"Look at me."
Yunho tells himself that he won't, but his eyes flicker to Seonghwa's face anyway.
"What do you see?"
"A demon," Yunho blurts. He doesn't even intend to speak. He bites his lip furiously, turning away.
"Anger," says Mingi softly.
There is a moment's silence.
Yunho looks up again. Seonghwa's beautiful face looks startled, his gaze fixed directly on Mingi.
"Anger," Seonghwa repeats. "You see... you think-" his Fjerdan fails him momentarily. "You believe I am angry?"
"You are angry," Mingi says. "You feel hurt, and your hurt makes you angry."
Seonghwa tilts his head. His skin glows under the lights. "Why do you think I am hurt?"
Yunho is suddenly very aware that Seonghwa could so easily stop both their hearts. A simple flick of his hand, and he could end both their lives, and yet he chooses to listen to them instead. Yunho grits his teeth. He can't let his guard down; it's exactly what they want him to do.
"You lost someone," Mingi answers simply.
The room is suddenly cold. Seonghwa looks sad and thoughtful. When he speaks, the fire is gone from his eyes, the ice gone from his voice. "I did. I was five. They took my mother. Your soldiers, breaking down our door, telling us not to fear- she was only gone for a trial, she would be all right."
Yunho stares at the floor. Something in his chest twists painfully.
"It was my brother next," Seonghwa continues, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "The same lie. I was eight. It had been three years, but I had not forgotten. I tried to stop them, but I lost control of my power."
And suddenly he is almost crying, and Yunho instinctively reaches out to comfort him before jerking back as though burned. What the hell is he doing?
"I killed my brother," Seonghwa chokes. "I killed him, and sometimes I wonder if it was for the better, because I saved him from the death he awaited at your soldiers' hands. It comforts the hurt, but it can never drown the guilt."
Yunho raises his head.
"You said you were not a criminal," he says coldly. "You lied. You are a murderer. You killed a man."
He stares into those wide, horrified eyes for only a split second before Seonghwa looks away.
"A man," he repeats. "You say I murdered a man, but if your soldiers had done with him as they do with all others, you would have called it a just execution."
Mingi inhales sharply, and Yunho's eyes sting. He has nothing to say. He cannot lie. Seonghwa is right.
"They came for me last," Seonghwa whispers. "When I was ten. They wished to put a ten year old child on trial, to execute me grandly and then throw a party, probably leave the body to the vultures. I was young, but I knew I would not let them."
"You killed them," Mingi says fiercely.
"No," Seonghwa answers softly. "I ran. I heard them coming, I heard their heartbeats. I ran, and I left the only home I had ever known behind. I returned six years later. They had burned it to ash."
His eyes seem to burn through Yunho and into his soul. "I tell you this so that you see me as I am, from the very beginning. I pray that one day, you make look at me and see a man, rather than a demon. An angry man, perhaps, but a human, with a life that holds enough value to at least be given basic respect."
He dries his eyes and stands. "I will hold nothing back from you, Drüskelle. I hate you. I hate you and all of your kind with every atom that makes up my body, and yet I do not wish to see you dead. This is what keeps me from falling to your level. I do not make enemies of the innocent, and I do not wish death on the young."
The door closes behind him, and silence falls like the blade of an ax, cold, painful, and deadly sharp.