Chapter Text
Blood.
"Holy shit!" someone screamed.
Vil Schoenheit remained unfazed.
Blood splattered across his shoes and robe, his eyes drifting almost lazily over the body of his fallen housewarden. The older man's brown hair having turned dusty from the sand of the arena, His eyes glassy from pain and hitting the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of him.
Not the first, or the last, to become wounded in takeover battle.
It wasn't fatal, it never was. Not after the third takeover resulting in a fatality nearly 60 years ago. Vil knew the rules and the consequences well, having researched exactly how to take Onyx down since he'd arrived at Night Raven College.
But the fact that Vil had managed to take Onyx down was.... unexpected.
Most of the Pomefiore dorm viewed him as simply a beauty, never seeing the seething thorns at his core.
Blinded by his role as an actor and model.
He was so much more than a mere facade; he'd worked and learned to thrive in Pomefiore's stifling environment. Blooming like a wildflower in search of rain.
His signature spell, a curse cast on his barrette, had taken down the most powerful housewarden in Night Raven College.
A single touch to the back of his head and Onyx had hit the ground from a slash of invisible magic.
A sly smile slid across Vil's lips, a proud tilt to his lips as he looked down upon the housewarden.
Just like Vil, Onyx had never been seen as more than his facade.
That of a powerful magic user and charismatic personality.
But unlike Vil, Onyx had never been much more than a puff of cotton with a cruel streak behind his facade.
"VIL SCHOENHEIT IS THE WINNER!" Is declared from the arena head.
Pomefiore students around the arena cheered in elation, while the fools from Savannaclaw watched in wary trepidation.
Octovallion's housewarden and vice eyed Vil in equal measures interest and wariness. Well aware that he would be a good ally in future endeavors but weary of his strength.
Diasomnia's vice nodded to Vil in respect, the fae holding no true moral qualms about Vil's actions.
Vil nodded back, pleasant as could be.
As he exited the arena, he was swarmed by his year mates. All of whom were now trying to get in his good graces, if they weren't before, quick to adapt to the new power imbalance.
Many of them now ready to support the boy they'd previously reviled or admired as a beautiful painting of excellence from afar.
Poor things, he thought in amusement, to suddenly be face with a sliver of danger they didn't know I possessed. It must be quite jarring.
The first years, however, did not approach him, having no need to seek his good graces and well aware of his disdain for hollow congratulations.
They knew he'd win; it was no surprise to his little kittens.
"Nice one, Schoenheit." Rook smirked as he clapped, leaning against the doorframe of the room. The hunter's straw-colored hair gently flowing down his cheek as he watched Vil.
"Mm." Vil hummed as he separated himself from his glaring year-mates, their opinion holding no real weight on the young man's opinion of Rook.
"Why, thank you." Vil smiled at Rook, his expression one of calm and controlled amusement at his peers' shock.
"I am glad I was able to entertain everyone." Vil's tone was slightly mocking, just enough to keep his feelings ambiguous enough for those with doubts to still not be sure of his true thoughts.
He looked up at Rook with a slightly curious expression.
"Was there anything you wished to talk about, Rook?" Vil asked, his tone neutral.
The year had just begun, and he knew he needed to be careful to control his true feelings. It would do no good to display a weakness just yet, after all.
There was a distant thought of leaping into Rook's arms right away.... Cheering, mayhap.
He knew the hunter would be pleased to hold him as he showered him with excitement.
The hunter smiled in amusement, his sharp green eyes locking with the harsh iciness of the new housewarden.
"I've come to seek a transfer to Pomefiore, Roi de Poison." The hunter's words were cool- detached in a way that Vil had not heard before.
"Oh?" Vil's expression was one of surprise, though his voice remained cool and detached.
"Why do you wish to transfer? Do you prefer our dorm over Savannaclaw?" Vil was curious, his expression remaining emotionless as he asked his questions. But inside his excitement and greed had become pleasantly warm.
Having both Pomefiore and Rook at his side?
A dream Vil had not thought possible.
He waited for the hunter's answer with anticipation in his heart.
The idea of Rook coming to Pomefiore was... exciting... to say the least. More so because he was sure to be loyal to Vil, as Rook had said before- he did not take betrayal lightly.
Vil's expression remained the same, but inside his heart raced and his thoughts ran wild.
Rook could feel Vil's sharp gaze on him.
He could see the housewarden trying to find a weakness in his gaze, or an expression of interest. But he was a hunter. He knew better than to show emotions on his face.
"I've decided that I would rather belong with a group that better matched my views." He spoke slowly, making sure his tone was detached and indifferent.
He wouldn't let any of his thoughts or feelings make it to his face. Rook had played this game with Vil before and wouldn't lose this time.
He couldn't risk displacing his Queen now that he held the throne, after all.
Vil nodded in understanding as he took in Rook's response.
"I think we both know Pomefiore will match your views much better." Vil replied as if there was little doubt of the result.
His tone was cool, his expression showing no indication of what he was feeling or thinking at the moment.
He knew how to play the game as well. One he had perfected throughout the years.
"Your transfer to Pomefiore shall be considered." Vil replied calmly, his voice dripping with cold sweetness. His fingers locked with Rook's, as if to seal the deal.
He squeezed gently and let go.
His kittens called for his attention, new rules needed to be placed and improvements made to the dorms.
Not to mention the meeting between housewardens and the headmaster's speech.
Hours later Vil stood upon the balcony outside of the housewarden's room, stationery and pen in hand.
A letter to his father only half formed in his mind.
To outsiders, Vil's pen danced across the paper, scratching out a half-finished letter.
But to those who knew Vil only saw that he was tired, and his pen dragged languidly across the page, unusually slow.
The meeting between housewardens had been... interesting and he felt oddly refreshed by them.
Perhaps because it had been the first time he'd felt like Vil and not his mask.
A facade he knew he'd have to pull on again soon.
The new rules that had to be put in place...
Crack!
Vil startled at the sound of a stone hitting his window pane.
His pen skidded across the page, leaving a deep mark in the paper as his hand jolted at the sudden noise.
"What in the blazes?" He frowned, turning toward the window to see what had caused the commotion only to find Rook standing there with a grin on his face.
Vil rolled his eyes as he set the paper down on his desk next to his pen.
He leaned over the railing as he watched Rook climb up onto the balcony.
"Was the rock necessary, mein Liebling?" He asked.
Rook only shrugged his shoulders when Vil called him out. "You weren't answering my summons."
"Because I am busy," Vil replied dryly, crossing his hands and leaning more against the railing. His eyes remained on Rook as the hunter made his way closer.
The hunter's eyes glinted in amusement.
"Indeed, mon ami?" He laughed as he leaned closer to Vil, pressing his shoulder to Vil's.
Vil glanced at Rook, his expression changing ever so slightly with the contact. It had been so long since he'd been this close to someone.
Rook was certainly one of the few people he allowed to touch him- a thought that made him warm inside.
His hands moved to wrap around the railing, but one of his fingers brushed against Rook's.
"I will start introducing you to my year mates tomorrow." The implied: Can you prove yourself like we planned? weighing heavily on the air.
Can you claim your position as vice?
Rook raised an eyebrow, though an amused smile still remained on his face.
"Of course, mon ami." He nodded. "I've been learning the hierarchy of the house."
"Have any of them caught your eye?" Rook's tone was innocent enough, though Vil had learned to read Rook well enough. There was no point in playing around and giving away who was thinking what in their game.
"You have someone in mind, do you?" Vil asked with the slightest smirk.
"A few," Rook replied, glancing at Vil as if testing the waters to see how Vil would react to such a statement.
The hunter's gaze seemed to sparkle with a bit of mischief, though it was difficult to say.
Vil's eyes were sharp on Rook, waiting for more.
Vil had to be wary of his choice, for if the person Rook wished to hunt had friends loyal to them...
...or if Rook chose poorly.
He might not be able to control the results.
"Tomorrow then." Vil nodded decisively. "You've your pick of targets... and once that is finished-" You'll have proved yourself capable of being vice.
"There will be threats, there always are. I am at my weakest without my year mate's loyalty, and we both know they only see me as a steppingstone on their own journey. The first years will obey me and the third years will be suspicious- especially since I took down Onyx." Vil hummed softly as he squeezed Rook's hand. "The fourth years will not care as they graduate at the end of the semester."
"Look for those who are overly aggressive. Those who are most often starting fights with their peers- they will not hesitate to strike against you if it serves their personal interests. Especially if they have been planning this for a long time."
"You must take them down first before they can plan their attack." Vil's hands tightened around the railing. "No half measures, mein Liebling."
He would not have another of his year mates' rebel against him.
A quick smile and a nod confirmed Rook understood. "And one more thing, mein Liebling-" Vil's tone dropped, shifting to something a bit more serious.
"My father shall be visiting us in a few weeks..." His tone held a warning, and it was obvious to both of them exactly what Vil meant. Don't let on exactly how much they'd done to me.
The hunter bowed, a grin on his face. "Good night, mon cheri."
"Gutten Nacht."