Work Text:
His honey yellow tongues hung out of his mouth, unconsciously being threatened to be cut off by rows of pointed fangs in mindless concentration.
Mituna poured over the text, just as he had been doing for the last couple months. It was bound in thick and heavy leather. Easily the most well kept journal so far. Although the writing quality hardly matched the pristine outer shell. Half of it wasn't even in modern Alternian or legible, for that matter. Leave it up to his ancestors to have poor handwriting. Even with their undeniable entanglement with royal bloodlines.
He sighed heavily and bookmarked his place with a fraying purple ribbon before picking up and resuming his place in a different one with a bejeweled magenta ribbon instead. It was even older alternian but at least it was readable so most of the work was looking between it and a dictionary.
The heavy library door creaked open, making him look up.
“I figured I'd find you here,” Abaddon said with an air of playfulness. “Still reading over your ancestors’ diaries?” He closed the door behind him with another hefty groan. They really should oil that door sometime, but it added to the ambience.
Mituna hummed in confirmation, returning to his translations. “A lot of it is just run on sentences with a lot of flowery language. Nothing too important, yet. Certainly nothing about psychic powers, either.”
Abaddon pulled up a chair and sat next to Mituna at his desk. The gold blood always had so much going on in his mind.
“I wish they had more room to be boastful. Even in their own private journals. That's one thing I like about your ancestors, Abaddon; they were never afraid of flashing their accomplishments. Their strengths. They didn't have to be humble about what was second nature to them because no one was above them.”
“Times have changed,” he offered.
“But they're still in the past.”
Their eyes met. Mituna’s still held the glaze of death that separated him from his living kin but the spark of life that kept a barrier between ancestral access. He was one of a kind with his pale red and blue eyes. It was all too easy to get lost in them. To wonder how the cogs turned in the brain behind them.
“I can't say I know what it's like to lose my powers. Shit must fucking suck. It's the pride of my people, and it's what kept yours alive under royal hands for countless generations. I know it hurts you, too. That constant hum under your skin. It crackles off the top of your horns when you have bad dreams. It's how I motherfucking know to ask the kitchen to get a snack going for you when you wake up.”
“Does it really?” Mituna asked, painfully hopeful in his tone. He reached up to touch his chipped and heat warped horns. One-of-a-kind, trolls would say. More like kind of damaged. Pieces still caught on his skin and nails. It would cut him if he wasn't careful.
Abaddon smiled softly and leaned in close. “I know you're so motherfucking hopeful, muffin, but let me tell you something: there isn't another yellow blooded troll out there to match you. You can't name a bastard that's saved this ungrateful hellscape by the skin of his teeth, died from it, and still came back with a buzz. I know you're not as powerful as you used to be and sure I'd love to see you crack moons in two, but you're still powerful as fuck. Give yourself some credit. You've been through a lot, my precious rounded red.”
Mituna sniffled and Abaddon moved to wipe away the forming tears. He nuzzled into the larger troll’s hand, hiding any bit of his face he could. He hated when other people saw him cry.
“It's just so hard,” he muttered against the skin of his hand. He couldn't even remember anything before the accident and his untimely death. He wished he had taken writing stuff down more seriously, but he was too busy living in the moment. Too busy to stop for even one second and reconsider that good things never last. “There's so much I regret not doing.”
“I know,” Abaddon answered, even if he really didn't. He wished he did though. Just to understand Mituna a little bit more so he didn't feel so alone. “I want to help you with more than just tracking down whatever you ask of me. Ancestor stuff, old people you knew. Every night hours after you've gone to bed, I pray. I pray that you'll wake up and you'll be happy again. Not ‘fixed’ or even back to your old self that I hear so much about. Just… happy. I'd even take being content. I love you as you are, Mituna. I've never known you any other way so maybe I'm biased. It's just…how could I ever pray to fundamentally change the troll that got me – the most vicious and feared living purple blood – feeling so damn soft.”
“You make me happy,” Mituna admitted. His throat felt tight. The words were in his head, but saying them aloud was always something he struggled with. “I think… I think you're the answer to your own prayers. Because you don't change me but you make me so happy.”
Without warning Abaddon pulled Mituna out of his chair and into his chest. The bigger troll doesn't even hold back letting his chest heave with his own soft sobs. No one ever saw the highblood priest Abaddon Makara cry. Not his own convent. Not his descendants or his ancestors. Not the very gods above he worshiped. He was rabid and unpredictable. A monster. A beast.
“I'm so pitiful. You risked life and limb to meet me because you thought I was worth taking a chance on, and I chased after you like a hungry dog.” He buried his hand in Mituna’s hair, gently combing through the bountiful bouncing dark curls with his claws. “You know I'm a fucking monster and don't regret what I've done, but you stayed. Not even just stayed. You… you dug your claws into my flesh and said 'I dare you to make me let go'. You're a god sent gift. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise that you're not a damn motherfucking blessing on this rock.” He kiss between his horns, getting lost in the scent of his hair.
“Abaddon,” Mituna cooed softly.
“Hm?”
“I'm surprised these big tits aren't just for show and you have a heart behind them.”
The mood shifted. Abaddon pushed Mituna out of his lap and let him fall to the floor with a small “oof”.
“That's it. I'm not ever being emotional with you again. I pour my heart out and you feel me up like a piece of meat. They say I'm the dog around there,” he huffed. He wasn't really upset. That lazy grin still graced his black lips. If he was mad then Mituna would have been a nice new coat of paint for the library.
Mituna gasped with mock offense before giggling. “I didn't even start feeling you up yet! You know what, Abby? That's it. The final straw. We're in a super serious fight right now.”
Abaddon laughed softly and his grin widened, revealing those enticingly sharp teeth. He stood up, towering over Mituna who was still on the floor. He knew that look in his purple eyes all too well.
“Alright then. Since it's super serious, I've decided to be super nice and give you a five minute head start before I come to find you.”
Mituna scrambled off the floor and pushed the creaking door open, mind already racing to find a place to hide somewhere in the castle. The only question was if he'd find a good enough spot or tempt getting himself caught on purpose to face whatever 'punishment’ Abaddon had in mind.