Chapter Text
Throughout the years, the name Magister Merlin had grown to be known as numerous things. Something about his wise power made him worshipped across lands he had no recollection of exploring.
Love was a weakness he had no desire to explore.
Reinier, on the other hand, was only known to be some crazed, symmetrical obsessed hypogean.
Love was a mortal’s concept to him.
…
No matter how many trivias and equations Reinier put into order, he couldn’t stir his head around his fascination around the magister.
Something about him drove the hypogean mad. Mad with obsession.
He found himself at times looking through the mirror that lay in the Merlin’s room, seeming to admire his soul.
Nothing about his face was symmetrical. None of the mortals he knew were. Yet, the beauty that adorned his face made him come back every other night. Staring.
Each curve and dip of his body was carved into his complex mind.
It was out of character for him to feel such strongly for someone, and he would never admit how inhumane his obsession was with the man.
Following the events of rustport, the merlin
Had fallen into a state of loneliness.
He had came back to holistone, trying to find solace in his past adventures.
Although his peers like Valen and Hogan had kept him company, an undeniable silence had lingered in his life for far too long now.
He found himself at times, when his familiars were fast asleep in the dull hours of the night, staring at himself through his mirror, questioning his purpose.
Maybe there was a time he was this great leader, untouched by anyone who dared to step in his path. The faces of his old friends would cross his mind at night, their sorry expressions keeping him up for hours on end.
Just what memories were kept from him? What curated this ‘Merlin’ character to be the man he was today?
He felt like he was slowly spiraling into madness, and there was nobody he could turn to for help.
…
Tonight was like all the rest. Both Chippy and Hammie had grown accustomed to sleeping in the room next door, upon their magister’s request. He couldn’t bear to have them see him like this.
His head hung low, palms tightly gripping either side of the mirror.
Part of him knew taking pills wouldn’t stop the hurt, especially since he had grabbed them from an inexperienced mage.
But desperation clung to his sides, each doubt and memory bringing more tears to his eyes.
It hadn’t been this bad in a long time. The side effects of the so-called ‘medicine’ were clawing at him—tightening his chest, fogging his mind, leaving his breath shallow and broken. His chest heaved as he tried to steady himself, but the sobs tore through him too fast, too sharp.
…
The mirror was wrong.
Reinier tilted his head, his sharp gaze narrowing as he studied the reflection before him. He hated imperfections. They unsettled him, broke the balance he craved. And he—the Merlin—was nothing but imperfection right now. his posture was slumped, not yet noticing the hypogean that replaced his reflection. The man was a mess, face streaked with uneven tears that
reflected the symmetry Reinier had come to admire.
It should’ve disgusted him. It should’ve sent a shiver of repulsion down his spine, this chaos of human emotion.
But it didn’t.
Instead, it pulled him in. The magister’s imperfections were intoxicating, carved into his mind with precision. It’s what kept him coming back every night, silently watching as the man in front of him drove himself insane. Every dip and curve of Merlin’s face, every erratic movement of his chest, every uneven breath—it all stirred something in him that no equation, no balance, could account for.
Reinier tilted his head, the smooth, mask-like surface of his face catching the faint light as he leaned in closer. His movements were deliberate, calculated, as though every inch he took toward the mirror was thought out before.
He raised a hand, his fingers curling as they pressed against the glass, and the barrier rippled faintly. Through the distortion, he could see the magister’s face, every uneven mark, every crease, every flaw.
It was maddening.
…
The shadow moved again, finally catching the magister’s attention.
His tears stopped for a dull moment, feeling another presence in the room. Something in him stirred, as if he was struck by curiosity.
The faint silhouette before him grew clearer, making his chest tighten.
His fingers curled tighter around the edges of the mirror, knuckles paling under the pressure. He recognized that shape—those horns, that hauntingly symmetrical form.
“You,” he hissed, his voice low but trembling with effort. His head snapped up, bloodshot eyes meeting the figure in the glass. “Reinier.”
It had been months since their paths had crossed, and it was strikingly hard to forget that symmetrical sin. The last time, Reinier had appeared without warning, a storm of silence and precision that left chaos in his wake. A Hypogean, bound by no laws of man or nature. A being who thrived on balance yet brought ruin to those who sought it.
And now, he was here again to make his life more miserable then it was becoming.
“What do you want?” Merlin spat, his voice uneven. A sharp pang shot through his skull—another side effect of the cursed pills. He bit back a groan, forcing himself to stand taller, though the effort left him shaking.
“If you’re here to finish what you started—”
“You assume too much,” Reinier interrupted, his voice smooth and low, cutting through Merlin’s accusations like a blade.
The magister faltered, his breath quickening as Reinier stepped closer. The mirror shimmered faintly, distorting the Hypogean’s features, but there was no mistaking the imposing, symmetrical figure. Reinier’s horns framed his masked face with unnerving perfection, casting jagged shadows across the dark room.
…
He had no intention of finishing what he started. Not in the way Merlin thought,
at least.
The magister’s voice wavered, sharp with fear and anger, yet weighed down by something else—weakness, exhaustion. Reinier could see it in every uneven breath, every tremble in his hands as they clung to the mirror. He tilted his head, studying the mortal before him.
Merlin was a mess. A beautiful, maddening mess.
“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” Reinier said, his voice even, measured. He moved closer, his fingers brushing the edge of the mirror, and the glass rippled like water at his touch. “But I wasn’t expecting to find you like this.”
The magister glared at him, but the fire in his eyes was dimmed by tears, by the lingering pain.
“Then why are you here?” he demanded, his voice cracking.
A part of him hated being so vulnerable in front of anyone, especially a hypogean that couldn’t care less.
Reinier didn’t answer. Instead, he raised a hand and pressed his palm to the glass, his movements deliberate. The barrier rippled again, and this time, his hand slipped through, the tips of his fingers bold enough to brush against the Merlin’s face.
The man flinched at the cold pressure of his hand, but he didn’t pull away.
“You’re broken,” Reinier murmured, his voice softer now. “More so than the last time I saw you.”
…
Merlin quickly swatted his hand away, but the attempt was weak, his strength fading as the effects of the pills weighed heavier on him.
“I’m not broken,” he growled, though his voice lacked conviction. Who was he to make such assumptions about him?
Reinier tilted his head, the corners of his masked visage seeming to mock him. “No?” His hand moved again, skimming along Merlin’s jaw, his touch cold but precise. The magister’s body betrayed him, leaning into the contact even as his mind screamed to resist.
The coldness distracted him for a moment, granting himself a second to recollect himself. His gaze slowly met reinier’s mask, which looked down to him condescendingly. He furrowed his brows, seeming to be out of his state of vulnerability.
“Leave.” Merlin whispered, though the words lacked force.
Reinier made a sound similar to a scoff, seeming to not take the magister’s words seriously.
“You and I both know you don’t want that.” He retaliated, stepping closer.
The glass of the mirror rippled as more of his form crossed through, all four of his swole arms came to light, each hand flexing as they’re exposed to the cool night breeze of the small room.
Merlin’s breathing quickened, reinier’s position forcing him to back away slightly. “You’re a monster,” he said, though his voice wavered. Part of him knew that the hypogean was right, and that was what he hated the most.
“And yet, here you are. Holding on. Trembling.”
Reinier’s voice dipped lower, his tone almost hypnotic. The hand that previously cradled his face trailed lower, tracing the curve of Merlin’s neck with unnerving precision, the sharp pointe of his fingers made the man shiver. He hadn’t yet used any of his other hands, seeming to not want to scare the man off.
Merlin wanted to push him away, to fight back. But the combination of the pills and the weight of Reinier’s gaze pinned him in place. He attempted to distract himself, tightly gripping each side of the mirror, grounding him even as the Hypogean’s touch pulled him further into his twisted seduction.
When Reinier’s mask moved closer, it wasn’t the violent clash Merlin had expected. It was slow, calculated, his mask pressed against Merlin’s face, searching for his lips.
It wasn’t a kiss of passion or affection. It was control. Possession. One of Reinier’s free hands slid over Merlin’s, guiding his fingers to the mirror’s edge, forcing their connection deeper.
Breaking the kiss, the magister gasped as Reinier’s lower hands found their way to his wrists, gripping them firmly but without malice. His upper hands hovered near Merlin’s face, one brushing along his cheek while the other traced a slow, maddening line down his temple. He seemed to be taking in the man’s state, slowly memorizing every detail, symmetrical or not, all over again.
“You’re trembling,” Reinier observed, his voice low, dispassionate. “Is it fear? Or something else?”
Merlin tried to jerk away, but Reinier’s hold was immovable, like iron shackles wrapped in velvet. “Let me go,” the magister growled, though his voice betrayed him with its quiver.
“Say the word,” Reinier said simply, his upper hands now framing Merlin’s face, tilting it upward so their eyes—or what semblance of eyes Reinier had behind his mask—locked. “Say you truly want me gone, and I will leave.”
But Merlin said nothing.
Reinier’s lower hands slid up, one settling at the magister’s waist while the other pressed against his chest, feeling the unsteady rise and fall of his breath. It was intoxicating, the way Merlin’s asymmetrical beauty radiated in his vulnerability. For a creature who thrived on perfection, Reinier found this chaos mesmerizing, maddening.
“I hate you.” The Merlin spoke in a soft voice, a silent reign of surrender. He watched as reinier’s shoulders rose and fell, trying to find something to say back.
Instead of waiting, the magister brought his lips once more to reinier’s mask, massaging the cold material with each movement his jaw made along his face. Reinier quickly pulled him closer, surprised my the Merlin’s
Boldness. An overwhelming need for release, for attention, aided the magister’s movements, the feeling nearly consuming him.
Merlin’s knees buckled, and Reinier’s lower hands caught him effortlessly, pulling him closer until their forms were nearly entwined within the glass. The magister’s breath came fast and shallow, his body trembling as Reinier’s upper hands held him steady.
He could feel his thigh press against the mirror, making his heart race. Slowly, his hips brushed along the cool surface, emitting a groan from him. The movement only excited him further, to which he selfishly continued doing.
“You don’t hate me,” Reinier murmured against his lips, the words ghosting through the mirror’s surface. “You hate that you don’t.”
Merlin had no response, his mind spinning as the Hypogean’s touch—his presence—overwhelmed every sense.
Breaking the kiss, his breath was unsteady, lips swollen.
“Wh-why are you doing this?,”
The Merlin asked quietly, looking up to reinier’s mask, trying to read his expression.
Reinier only laughed, his lower hands gently massaging his back and waist.
“You fascinate me, oddly enough. Is that what you want to hear?”
The hypogean knew deep down he couldn’t yet admit his obsession with the Merlin that drove him mad with an inhumane need.
Silence hung amongst the two, reinier’s hands remaining in their place; his arms possessively held him close, carving every moment into his complex mind.
Finally, the Merlin turned away from his sharp gaze.
“This is madness. I don’t see the appeal, Haven’t you seen the mess I’ve made of myself these past few weeks?”
Merlin’s breath hitched suddenly as Reinier’s lower hands tightened slightly at his waist, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush. The Hypogean’s touch was calculated, as if he was afraid to hurt him.
“You think I care about the state you’re in?” Reinier’s voice softened, almost mocking. “Do you think your flaws make you any less fascinating?”
The Merlin didn’t respond at first, his mind racing at their predicament.
His chest was pressed against him mirror, hips pressed tightly against it.
Reinier waited impatiently for a response, hoping for a right answer.
After a few moments of silence, his lower hands guided merlin’s hips to grind against the surface of the mirror, emitting a short moan from the other man.
“It- it’s hard to believe, especially if it’s coming from you.”
He spoke up, gaze flickering to his reflection. It looked foreign—his disheveled, vulnerable state made his ears burn. How could anyone bear to see him like this?
Silence lingered once more, thick with unspoken truths and questions neither dared to voice. The mirror rippled faintly, the glass seeming to pulse in time with their breathing.
Reinier’s touch grew bolder, his lower hands sliding along the curve of Merlin’s chest, while his upper hands returned to cradle his face. “Do you want me to stop, then?” he asked, his voice low, almost a dare.
Merlin opened his mouth to answer, but the words caught in his throat. His body betrayed him again, leaning into Reinier’s touch as his eyes closed. “You’re insufferable,” he mumbled to himself, the words a broken whisper.
That was all Reinier needed.
The hypogean let his upper hands move down the Merlin’s body, exploring it with ease. While one of his hands found its way up his shirt, the other worked down his pants.
Merlin’s breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, his fingers digging into Reinier’s arms. he’d forgotten how fleeting it was to be worshipped, body and soul.
Each movement made his heart fluttered, a faint whimper escaping him as Reinier found his hardening cock.
Just as he felt his breathing quicken, Reinier stopped his movements, his mask tilting as he seemed to observe the Merlin’s behavior.
“Not yet.”
The hypogean whispered, his hands shaking as he used all his willpower to not worship the magister’s body, to consume his soul completely without any precautions. All four muscular arms Came back to his sides, acting as if nothing had happened between the two.
Merlin stayed quiet, his lips parted as heavy breaths came out. He forced himself to look up at the other man, his brows furrowing in frustration.
“Leave me,” He murmured, hanging his head low in defeat. “My familiars will wake soon from the noise.”
His words were heavy, laced with hesitation. He didn’t want this to end—didn’t want to be left alone again.
Reinier sighed, the silence from his part hanging heavy between the two. He wanted to say something, anything that might comfort the mortal before him. But, he knew better. The magister needed his space, and inserting himself so quickly would mean breaking the little trust they held for each other so soon.
Without another word, his figure disappeared into the mirror, leaving the man alone with his thoughts again.
Merlin continued to stand in silence, his free hand moving to fix his rough appearance. His eyes met the mirror, silently hoping Reinier would still be looking at him.
A knock at the door startled him, breaking his daze as he walked over to answer it.
As expected, Chippy and Hammie were standing there, worried eyes evident as they started to recount the noises they’d heard from his room.
The magister quickly reassured them, ushering the small hamsters back to their room. He hated to have his familiars worry, especially now, during such a vulnerable period he’d brought upon himself.
That night passed without a single tear for once, Yet Merlin was left preoccupied with his heavy thoughts. When would Reinier see him again? For once, he actually anticipated the hypogean’s presence.
For once, he felt his presence wanted by someone.