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Chapter Text

Undertaker's POV

I don't remember what time of night it was when I heard the jingling of chains. It sounded almost like the delicate tinkling of my earrings and the insistent clinking of my lockets had merged into one haunting rhythm, but I digress. I heard the jingling of chains in tandem with boots traversing the grass. I paid it no mind as I kept digging the grave for my guest's big gala in the morning. I realized that the footsteps had ceased quite some time ago. I popped my head out of the six foot hole to take a look around and was immediately greeted by the boots I had heard earlier. Black, leather, thigh high boots laced all the way up, save for the top three eyes, had their own set of mourning lockets adorning them. One end of the lockets connected to a random eye, looped behind the wearer's leg, and the other finally reconnected to a random eye on the opposite side. The other boot had a more vertical style of adornment. My eyes roamed upward to the tall, thin figure clad in the darkness of night. A black, brocade skirt, far too short to wear in public was topped off with a black dress shirt and floor length, black, brocade coat. Further my eyes roamed until they met hers (or his). The person was very androgynous. Pale skin hardly had a drop of makeup on; thick, black eyeliner and mascara was all. Straight, shoulder length hair fell over androgynous features as the figure peered down at me.

"Well, hello there, Undertaker," the night shrouded figure called down to me in a husky, seductive voice that was neither feminine nor masculine. "I've been watching you for a very long time."

"You have?" I asked with a slight chill going down my spine. I'm usually not on the receiving end of the watching game. Nevertheless, this person intrigued me. I climbed out of the freshly dug grave rather unceremoniously, much to the amusement of my stalker.

A ring laden hand with long, black nails not unlike my own, reached down to assist me. "I'm proving to be a distraction for you. Allow me." Black eyes sparked as the person before me laughed. "You're amusing, and quite beautiful now that I have a good look at you."

I felt a bit of a blush creep onto my face, but it soon disappeared when the living darkness had my hair wrapped around long, ghost white fingers. Part of me wanted to kill him or her, part of me wanted to fuck him or her, part of me just wanted to go back to the shop and have a nice, quiet evening at home with my guests. I was going for the latter. I'm not thrilled about people touching my hair, especially if I don't know them. I must put a stop to this.

"...soft, and would like to braid it sometime."

Both of my hands shot out, grabbing this person by the wrists. I felt bones beginning to grind against each other in my grip.

Good, then you'll get the fucking message, dearie.

I smiled menacingly at the onyx leather and brocade blur in my grasp. "While I am flattered by your compliments, don't touch it unless I tell you that you can, m'dear. Hehehe." I released the person's wrists and traced a long nail over a defined jawline, down a long neck, and over the top of a pronounced collarbone. "You're welcome to come back to the shop with me for some tea..."

A knowing grin spread across the pale features of the night. I could almost swear that there was an eerie kind of hunger in this lovely creature's eyes that I had never before seen, yet at the same time it was oddly familiar. I pushed the unsettling feeling to the back of my mind. Black on black against alabaster silk giggled behind a pair of bejeweled feminine version of my hands. The darkness moved in closer until it almost enveloped me. I saw that I was equal in height with this dark beauty.

"So, my dear, you can't decide on a gender for me? I don't care what you pick. Male, female, it's irrelevant to me. In the grand scheme of things, Death cares not about what we are, but what we have done. Pick one, none, or both. Call me an it for all I care. By now, you should have guessed I'm not human. Go ahead, choose."

The person I beheld perfectly blurred the line between male and female, and it seemed to be natural. My dear red reaper, Grell, who so desperately wished to be a woman, looked positively masculine in comparison to this creature. My poor Grell, how jealous she would be.

With the lines blurred so perfectly, I decided to go by dress: female. "My lady, you may come with me to the shop and have some tea."

"Lady, huh?" The newly designated female chuckled. "I can live with that. I would love to accompany you to your shop for tea on at least one condition."

"Oh, at least one, eh? Hehe."

She nodded with a mischievous grin. "One here and another at your shop. I promise not to do anything to make you uncomfortable, but I think you need this."

I tilted my head to the side, looking at the lady in confusion. "Need what, milady?"

"This."

Chapter Text

"This."

Soft hands adorned with jewels gently cupped my face, black eyes bored into mine through my thick silver bangs, and soft lips tenderly took their place on mine. I wrapped my arms around her, allowing them to draw her nearer to me as she dominated the kiss. The hunger that flashed in her obsidian eyes was evident in the way she kissed me, but without the vulgarity. What she was doing was considered lewd, but it had a certain elegance to it. I was intrigued even more.

She finally pulled away, leaving me quite bewildered. "At least that is one condition worth noting. Don't you think?"

I gave her a wide grin. "You could say that. I believe that I've met your condition. It proved to be most entertaining. Hehehe."

The other's POV

I sat upon a lovely mahogany coffin as instructed by Undertaker. I watched as he disappeared into another area of his shop. The way his hips slightly swayed, taking his cloak for a ride with them, was intoxicating to me. I know he does it to get attention. Those lockets aren't going to clink themselves. His silver hair is as long and beautiful as I remember from our last dance. Ah, molten starlight draped over scarred, pale flesh. Piercing green eyes glowing with crazed lust while Europe suffered with the Black Death.

Ah, the plague years...That takes me back.

I see now, he chose to take me as a male last time. Perhaps that's a reason for his lapse in memory. For as long as I've been watching Death-known Death-I still find him more and more alluring. Death never bores me.

My dear Undertaker, did you forget about me? I know what you are. Too bad you don't know that...yet.

"Ah, the tea." I smiled, inhaling the tantalizing aroma. "Jasmine, my favorite." I took a sip of the hot beverage. "Just a hint of honey. Perfect."

Undertaker pulled a bone shaped cookie from a tiny urn he had hidden somewhere within his sleeves. "Cookie, my dear?"

"Don't mind if I have two," I said, giggling at my own lame pun. "My, these are delicious. Now, for the other condition." I walked behind him and ran my fingers through his silver hair. "I want to braid it."

"My hair?" He asked with slight apprehension. "Why on earth would you want to braid an old man's hair?"

"Yes. I want to weave the silver silk that falls unfurled over the personification of Death itself." Without Undertaker noticing, I had already unbuttoned his cloak and untied his sash. "Where is your pale horse, oh sweet Death? Am I forgotten by you, my pale rider?" I whispered in a low, lust fueled growl.

Undertaker stiffened within my grasp. Now he knew that I knew what he was, but I don't think he can guess what I am, at least not yet. This will prove to be an interesting game indeed. I moved some of the mortician's silver locks from his neck and toyed with the scar that ornamented it. "I know that when the end comes, those you have reaped will be sown and follow you wherever you go with Hell nipping at their heels. How legendary you are! How you come in so many forms. The brutality, the agony, the fear, but always the end."

Silver divided by three, the second division divided by three again. "I promised not to make you uncomfortable. It appears that I have done so by knowing what you are. If I were to apologize now, it would be insincere." The smaller divisions were woven tight. I leaned closer to his metal adorned ear and whispered, "but we both prefer brutal honesty, do we not?" He giggled when I nibbled his piercings. "Someone likes that, yes?"

"Keep that up, and you'll find yourself in a coffin. Hehehe."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a proposition," Undertaker replied seductively.

The left division was finished as well as the right. Now I was weaving the center division with the intricate smaller braids into the left and right divisions, forming a single, thick cord of woven silver trailing down from the nape of Death's scarred neck to just below his narrow hips. "Beautifully woven silver."

I wrapped my legs around him. Using the braid I had just given him as leverage, I pulled his head back, forcing him to look at me. "You've been quiet tonight. Did I finally decide to come out to talk to you on a bad day? No, wait, don't tell me that I intimidate you."

The silver madman exploded in maniacal laughter that sent both of us tumbling to the floor. "No, milady, I simply find you quite intriguing. I don't think I've heard anyone reference myself and the apocalypse in quite some time. Hehe. It's all very flattering. Ehehehehe." He pinned me to the ground with my hands on either side of my waist, his eyes scanning my body. "You do seem familiar somehow, but I can't seem to place it." The mortician stated soberly.

"I would've hoped that my eyes gave me away," I murmured. "I don't expect you to remember me, but let's play a game, shall we?" This is more amusing than I thought. Death is a madman. I bring souls to him indiscriminately from the shadows of humanity in a singular form, but in the end, I am still elusive on my black horse.

Chapter Text

...elusive on my black horse.

I freed myself from beneath the one whose name is feared among men and took my place back on the coffin, gesturing for him to join me. No sooner than he sat down, I was on top of him, which he didn't seem to mind.

"Are your eyes as beautiful as I remember them?" I asked, slightly brushing my lips against his. I lifted the overgrowth of silver off of his deceptively youthful face. "So much the better," I said sweetly as I gently caressed the scar over his face with my fingertips. "You're truly a beauty to behold. The eyes of a golden jackal; beautiful and fearsome to all who behold you. The day will come when all who have been delivered into your hands will know of your awesome* power. So much the better, my dear."

I enjoyed the silence thinking about how Undertaker's eyes were still quite the sight to behold. The glow of the predator's silver framed eyes was brilliant, hypnotic, seductive, and eerie all at once. No wonder souls of the dying threw themselves at him. He is a beautiful madman. They say that love conquers all. If one loves Death as I do, then love, indeed, conquers all.

Undertaker snaked his arms around my waist with a smirk. "You flatter me, my dear, but how is that you know everything about me, but I know nothing about you? Hmm?"

I let slip a soft moan and arched my body into his when the soul collector ran his long nails down my back. He seized the opportunity to tighten his hold around me and kissed me the way he'd coax souls from the dying husks of flesh they were leaving behind. Sweet and gentle, followed by intense passion at the killing blow. I returned the favor the same way one survives a famine: power and hunger. I dominated and left him hungry. A power struggle between Death and Famine; two equally formidable players in the end of all things.

"You still don't know?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. "My dear pale rider, I am hurt. You don't remember the dance we did at the end of the black death?..."

Undertaker's POV

"...You honestly don't remember?" the black eyed, androgynous beauty asked, drawing back from me a little to look me in the eyes. She truly looked hurt.

"I'm afraid I don't remember, love," I replied with my signature grin.

She crawled off my lap and started walking around my shop. "To answer your question, we have a history together, but it has been centuries since we've last seen each other. I don't expect you to remember me. You took me on as a male, if I remember correctly."

She stopped at a coffin with a guest I had just received earlier this afternoon. "This one here, missing his kidneys," she said dispassionately. "They weren't surgically removed, or even crudely cut out." The black clad female looked at me with morbid wisdom dancing in the depths of her black eyes. "No, my sweet Death, the kidneys were chewed out." She paused dramatically. "By a human."

The disquieting feeling settled over me once again, but I was finding myself distracted by her beautiful blur of male and female features. "Cannibalism. Hehehe! That's interesting. Here in lovely London no less. I'm sure the Earl and his hilarious butler will be by here before long."

Silence surrounded both of us for a brief eternity. The sound of the lockets jingling in tandem with the clicking of boot heels broke through the quiet shroud. "I'm a means, you are an end." She looked at another one of my guests.

"My lady seems to fancy the mangled corpses," I said with a laugh.

"It's a testament to humanity. Perhaps, I should stop beating around the bush. I am no longer amused by this game," the other stated flatly.

I raised an eyebrow beneath my bangs. "Here I am thinking that we were having fun."

"It's not fun to be forgotten," she growled. "Especially by you."

I was once again at her mercy when I found myself in a coffin beneath her pitch black glare. Her heavily jeweled fingers laced through mine, keeping them pinned above my head. I can't remember the last time I was on the receiving end of a good pinning. Teeth expertly unbuttoned the black form fitting tunic I was wearing before I had the slightest awareness of what happened.

"I have missed this," the dark beauty whispered more to herself than to me. She ground her hips into mine in a most cruel and seductive manner. "It's been said: 'Those destined for pestilence, to pestilence, and those destined for the sword, to the sword; those destined for famine, to Famine, and those destined for captivity, to captivity.'** Four destroyers were appointed over each of what mortals call signs of the Apocalypse. You and I are two of said signs. I am partial to Death, although it is quite true that your eyes can hold anyone in captivity."

The hunger in the darkness of her eyes was more intense than ever. Her face oscillated between masculine and feminine when she smiled cruelly at me. "Death and captivity, eh? Interesting analogy. Hehe."

"I turn mankind's most basic needs against himself. I am capable of the most cruelty out of all four of us. The most depraved act one can do to another is cannibalism, however, when I come, depravity often becomes necessity. It's most interesting and disturbing to see God's image rip its own flesh apart. Starvation makes men do the darnedest things."

Now I understood what she was trying to tell me all night. It had been so long since our last dance. I've been out of circulation for quite some time now, but you'd think I'd remember something that important.

"My sweet Death." Void colored eyes glinted with an air of sadness and longing. "I am the living being who spoke from my black horse while following behind War's equine beast of blood."***

Finally, it all clicked. I felt like a complete idiot for my utter forgetfulness.

"Famine."

Chapter Text

"Famine."

Androgynous beauty smiled down at me. "You've finally remembered. I am pleased." Her hand wrapped itself around the braid she had just given me, and with a sharp pull, I was within inches of her face. She twisted her hand tighter into the plait, to the roots, forcing my head to tilt backwards. "You still taste sweet," she purred as she licked my exposed throat.

I tried suppressing a giggle to no avail. "So, we have a sweet tooth, do we? Hehehe."

"And somebody's ticklish," she countered, licking my neck again.

Damn me and my laughing.

"I wonder where else you're ticklish?" Onyx eyes gleefully danced over my half naked form. A sadistic grin curled around the corners of Famine's lips once a target was acquired. "How about here?"

"HAHAHA! STOP IT! HAHAHA! YOU ARE CRUELTY INCARNATE!"

"I think you like it," the cruel mistress insisted as she resumed torturing my chest with her tongue, paying special attention to my scars. "I never knew Death to be so ticklish before."

"That's because-HAHA! STOP IT!-I was never caught off guard-OH, SHIT! HAHAHA! HEHEHEHE! STOP TICKLING ME! STOP IT!-by you." I managed to pant between roaring protests.

"Is that so?" she asked with a quizzical glance.

I took my opportunity to seize the night by her throat and kiss her with the cruel passion I knew she had been starving for. Like the cruel mistress she is renowned to be throughout the ages, she dominated the kiss.

"What do you want me to be tonight, sweet Death?" the third destroyer breathed. "You've danced with me as a female and as a male. What is it you wish for tonight, now that you remember me?"

I unbuttoned the black dress shirt she was wearing. "Tonight, I would like to dance with the lovely lady in my presence. Hehehe."

"As you wish." She licked her lips with hungry desire. Her teeth made quick work unbuckling my boots, working in concert with her hands to throw them out of the coffin.

"Pink socks?"

"Huh?"

The most amused expression graced her features. I blushed.

"I think it's cute. If I had breasts worthy of it, then those particular garments would be pink as well," the lady in black stated. She removed her shirt illustrating her point. "There's nothing much there to stuff into those ridiculous corsets human women wear. After all, they could fall into my hands and wish for you to release them from my cruelty." Her black eyes shone with esoteric lust. "So it seems that humans dine upon their own flesh in pleasure as much as necessity. How brutal! How macabre! How delectable! Oh, to see man fall further from grace with each bite he takes from his brother, and to watch as woman eats the babe she has borne in secret.* Oh, what a cruel mistress I am, but the most cruel of all is mankind itself!"

"Human weakness is tragic, but entertaining," I mused. "A cannibal on the loose in London. Hehehe." I found myself pulled into her side of the game. I couldn't let her win. Aside from a good laugh, a lady that has a certain way with words has a certain way with me. "My dear Famine, you always know how to charm me with the sweet cruelty of your words," I whispered in dark desire. The ambiguous beauty closed her eyes and purred softly through a hedonistic smirk as I scratched my nails over the pronounced contours of her body; from her collarbone, to her rib cage, and down her back. Her hips ground lewdly into mine when I reached the small of her back. "Humans and their fragility. They can be so arrogant. Hehe."

"Quite. That's why we are needed; to put them in their place." Slowly, the beautiful destroyer expertly removed the rest of my clothing with her teeth. "I missed this part of our dancing. Did you?"

I found myself pulling her back up to me by her hair. "Does this answer your question?" I kissed her with intense, fiery passion. "The boots stay on," I growled.

"Did you honestly think that I would ever forget that, my sweet Death?" she scoffed. The sliest of smiles appeared on androgynous features, and a disturbing glint flashed in her midnight eyes. She twirled the small braid behind my right ear between long fingers. "I heard that you are the best Undertaker around the whole of London. Do you think your custom made coffin can stand up to the force of half of the Apocalypse?"

I flipped her on her back, pinning her hands above her head. The hunger was burning in her cold black eyes. "There's only one way to find out," I replied with a sadistic grin, the yellow green glow of my eyes radiating lust.

Famine wrapped her long legs around my waist, pulling me closer to her. "Let's dance," she whispered.

"As my lady wishes. Hehehe." With that, I closed the coffin.

Chapter Text

With that, I closed the coffin.

Famine's POV

"It's true that you have earned your reputation as the best Undertaker around the whole of London," I snickered. "And in more ways than one, but we'll keep that a secret. Oh, and I'll keep your frilly, pink socks a secret, too." I stifled a giggle at the look on Undertaker's face. I had never seen Death pout before and it was just too damn adorable. He cocked his head to the side, adding a confused expression to his pout. "Dammit, you look so cute with that look on your face. I'll keep it a secret that the most feared among men can be so adorable."

"Ah, I see. Does my dear, cruel mistress intend to extract my secrets without revealing hers?" Legendary Death asked seductively. He stuck one of his long black nails in the guaged out ear piercing and twisted it around his finger.

"Do the other side, it's jealous," I whispered. Then, I caught him off guard when I bit the shell of his right ear and tongued the barbell that always beckons me to it. My sweet Death gasped in pain and pleasure.

Without warning, the mortician pinned me against the wall, face first. "You've always been a tease," he growled with malicious lust lurking in the shadows of his voice. "Are you certain you want to challenge me?" I caught myself yielding to Death's embrace as he found a way to make me divulge my secrets. The feel of his tongue on the back of my neck, followed by the delightful pain of his exquisitely sharp teeth, made quick work of unveiling my secret desire for more. The madman grinned menacingly and happily obliged. True Death, and his cold embrace.

"Are you asking me for a second go?" I shrugged him off of me and spun about to face him. I could feel the blood trickling down my back from his deadly bite, which brought a sadistic grin to my face. "If that's your way of asking, then I accept your challenge, my love." I took hold of the long silver braid I gave him, feeling the soft, curving ridges slide through my fingers. "You're beautiful. You've always been my favorite, you know."

Deathly pale skin stretched over long, skeletal fingers caressed my face. "I know, and you've always been mine. I feel so foolish having forgotten you. Can you forgive an old codger?" He cocked his head slightly, allowing his long bangs to fall away from his face, exposing his captivating eyes.

"With eyes as beautiful as yours, how could I not forgive you? I am forever your captive when you look at me that way."

"Let those who are destined for captivity, to captivity.* Hehehe."

Undertaker's eyes held an eerie glow; a green and faint gold that stood out against his silver hair and the ghostly pallor of his skin. This is our dance. What passed for my heart beat erratically. "I have waited so long for you to look at me like that again, my sweet Death."

"Like what, love?" His gaze remained unbroken.

I felt Death's watch grow more intense. "I am the feast of Famine standing bare before you to behold with starving eyes; your thirst never whetted, appetite never sated. I have become the finest delicacy, an arcane treat, a destructive treasure."

The final destroyer grinned sweetly. "It's been a long time, my dear Famine, and you are my treasure." His trademark grin returned. "So, I see I've won the game, unless you convince me otherwise, my charming beauty."

"I think it's the closest thing either of us is capable of calling love," I said, wrapping my arms around the silver beauty's neck, drawing him closer to me.

His eyes, swirling with secrets. In the end, I am the only one who knows what they are.

"Very well, if that is what you wish." I closed the distance between us. "Human corpses shall fall like dung upon the open field, like sheaves behind the reaper, and no one shall gather them**," I growled lowly. For some reason, I felt an impulsive need to drag my fingers through Death's long silken hair; to hear the pleasured growls and purrs oscillating as we dance again in honor of mankind's further fall from grace. With a few skilled swipes of my fingers, silver locks were freed from their bonds. I raked my fingers through his silver hair, shaking out any remains of the braid.

"Again," he quietly demanded. I gladly obliged, and was rewarded with the oscillating purring and growling I had longed to hear. He pressed his body against mine, nuzzling into my neck, and placed soft and sweet kisses there instead of the usual licks and bites. "I love you," my pale rider blissfully murmured.

This is new and quite unexpected. What am I supposed to do?

"As I love you," I replied meekly. I wasn't sure how else to respond, and I didn't want to hurt him in case he did mean it. After all, he's been spending a long time dwelling among the mortals and they may have rubbed off on him. He does know that I'll always be by his side, that I will never leave him or take another lover. I remain forever loyal to him. His beauty is beyond compare. He is True Death, absolute perfection.

He softly giggled and kissed my neck again.

"You're just a big puppy, my love. This too, will be our little secret. Anyway, did you hear what I said before I played with your hair?"

"Of course, and flattery gets you everywhere with me, love," the madman laughed. "I'm going to declare the game a draw."

"Why?" I pouted.

"You're as captivated by my eyes as I am by your words." My pale rider threw his head back and laughed maniacally.

"All I did was pay you a compliment with a quote from Jeremiah. Ah, I see."

"I'm not the only one who's forgotten about certain things we used to share."

"Dammit, you!" I laughed with the crazy mortician. "Me, you, coffin?" I gave his naked glory the once over with jet colored lust.

Beautiful Death pulled back, captivating me with his eyes again. "Anytime, my dear Famine."