Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The House of Death greets lost souls with their awaited appeasement. The Shadows of the new Monarch are truly gone. Sand among outer space, corpses reek of sleep and the one thing that stands tall is the endless void of mountains the size of constellations in the universe. Crystal dark tides wrap on the Emperor’s claws and tail as the lightsource appears on the other side where the water never ends.

Dragons fall to sleep at the mountains, their bodies mixing in with the green mothers dressed in grasslands. The Titans chose to walk afoot through the caves and comfort themselves in the dripping darkness of each burrow. No longer can any feel pain as elves reside in the sand and the beasts keep away their fangs upon gazing at the slow movement of the insects that fly by. 

It is an impossible world to experience, the other monarchs have said the same. They no longer rule even a single entity within the blessed ennui. They have evolved to sleep with no guilt or to search among the asphodels for their apologies when they meet those whom they have wronged. 

If one no longer feels the memories of reality weighing them down like an avalanche of dysphoria then the slow numbs of the air and cycling strikes of the tides manipulate the soul to fall under the spell of endless sleep so as to let the last wave of death consume you elsewhere. Elsewhere no one is yet to have known what it could be for Demons reincarnate with no memories of their past and the Monarchs have never reached it as eons pass. 

The last dragon to have fallen in the great war only contemplates the sight from afar as its wings spring up and elevate it to the highest plains. The meadows never stop. Movement disappears at some point. The meadows always roam. To the edges of the universe the Dragon flies. The light source keeps the same distance from before. Lamellae touch the grass. Scales flutter to the earth similar to autumn leaves dancing towards the water. The dragon crumbles and its final ecdysis is undergone until a human shape is revealed under layers of crimson. Covered in the silver-red armor of his last demise. The Dragon Emperor walks on tended gardens with loosened steps. The Monster of the Abyss turns towards the sight near the wild fields where dark armor rests. Shatter. Broken plates of purple and black ooze and dance like the wheat around it.  Ears suddenly perk up at the sound of a lost lullaby sung under a tiny voice that no longer bears resemblance to the rough exterior that Death once wore. 

There is nothing else to do except follow the hums of the ruined house not bigger than a tree. It almost bears pity to touch the door as it creaks upon the opening letting a fine light enter the room. For the first time darkness fills this spot of the world. It is not the darkness anyone is accustomed to though. This darkness is not real. This darkness is the obscurity of light. Nothing here seems to be remotely real anymore as he looks over the shed and gazes upon brokenly messy pottery. Cups and vases done through trial and error. The once Majesty of the monstrous realms looks in its dark red eyes towards the scraggy table. One wave and it would be enough to fall apart with every single pottery that lays on top of it. 

Just when a humanoid creature passes through the poorly created living room does the cracks of lumber show themselves like a hidden trap and make obtuse sounds throughout the house as a silly little alarm storms in their place. 

Well, the monster did not really hide itself to begin with. One who lurks behind a room is a coward after all and most especially in a world where death and pain are truly meaningless. Powerless. Everyone is as powerless as the worlds they once destroyed. 

Whatever the intentions may be nonetheless have caused the humming to cease. The only sounds are the running water and the set of steps that the Majesty goes through before nothing else but a simple scene of tranquility stops it from going forward. 

That and the being in front stands over the threshold of the last entrance. 

The tiny face contemplates the floor before slowly making their way up to look straight into the Dragon Emperor's eyes. Short black hair moves around in the sweet breeze and for a moment memories resurface stronger than tsunamis as it locks eyes with deep black eyes. THe eyes that hold a million shadows.  The Army of the Dead. 

[Ah.]

A smile appears on the young man, tattered in cheap clothes more fit for a goblin or human than for a King like him. 

[I… Well I'm not surprised to meet you again.]

The Emperor sneers at the comment.

[I'm just… ] The head moves to the scenery of the meadows before locking on to the Emperor once more with a calm smile. Those smiles sharing two emotionless eyes. [...Baffled? I don't know anymore. It has been a long time since my eyes laid upon another soul.]

[You’ve only been dead for 27 years and have become delirious to this extent.]

[Oh. Just 27? Then I must have… Yes I must have…] The small one bobs its head up and down mimicking a drinking bird. [Wait. If you are here, are the others also–]

[Your brothers backed away in the war. No one else is here except the fallen denizens…] One of the lips quirks to the side. [... and you.]

[Oh. Well as long as he is fine.] 

With nothing else to add the Emperor. Dragon. turns on its heel.

[You are going to leave now?]

[Yes.]

[Why?]

[There is no reason to be here.] 

[...Suit yourself.]

And for a moment the footsteps change as their pace slows and time grows. The wood cracks again before nevermore. Only the water splashing here and there against shiny rocks with no real treasure in them. Apparent is the dim of the lightsource as another shade of darkness eclipses the world and leaves further up north. 

[It was good to see you again.] An old human phrase that leaves his tongue. The emotions of that old dead heart from a humans’ flesh and blood has attached itself to Ashborn and begun to resurface some inkling manners after so many years in desolation. 

Good to see Death again? Good to see one being that he was meant to kill some day? He feels a twitch of his smile turn up.

It felt good to see someone again.

Chapter Text

A young man wakes the decrepit body in a hard bed. The base is made from sheets of wool and the floor is used as a cushion. A long sleepy shadow opens his eyes. Ashborn looks around and finds himself with the sight of a dark room. The big pupils look around the place as he walks on the creaking wood. Then he finds the cape covering his window. Small fingers latch the side of the covers thus leaving Ashborn to face a new day with the same golden and light blue sky. 

A light so blind to the soul as it is the one outside of this land. But a light that can be easily covered by one black cloak and turned into night. Ashborn doesn't ponder on the sight of the day too much. He watches the spirits of the wildlife from afar take one look at him. One second is enough for their souls to feel the primal fear of survival as they scurry away. 

To hold the powers over the dead would be enough for anyone to fear its holder. Even a second is enough. Unfortunately he was the first and the oldest. He has fear bathed in each bone and terror in every vessel. The embodiment of death. The embodiment of resentment.

Considering the humanity of the current holder he doesn't think it will be the same for the rest. Maybe the best outcome for the Monarch will be to pass down their power as soon as they reach a limit. Somehow he doesn't feel certain of his premonitions anymore. The human feelings transmitted over this tiny body are still difficult for him to understand but he does his best to deal with them. The less he thinks about the better. That is what Jin-Woo often thought when he was still young. Unlike the human who had been gifted the sight of eons into his past Ashborn only received the sight in the 24 years where Sung Jin-Woo struggled on his own. Sometimes he had a father. Sometimes a mother. The time when he needed them the most they were gone. 

Ashborn had never been so acquainted with others for so long in such little time. He found it annoying at first. Decades had not passed but seconds instead where they saw each other's faces and the same problems in school to the end of his graduation days. The place was indefinitely boring and the sounds were too loud for someone who had only heard the whispers of space for a long time. The sun was so close to him. The touches known as hugs and kisses pampered on his face from birth on his body were too much. This was not the cold hardened place where he had grown for more than civilization existed. This was a room he had been trapped in. Helpless. Yearning for more at the same time.

The purple and black flames stretched on his hands before going back to the tips of his fingernails. He sighed despite the air having long disappeared from this place. Let us not think about that. Let us not bring up a long forgotten past. Ashborn turned his heel to the center of the house. Apparently he had slept well because the dust had collected since the last time he had seen the place. Small hands started grabbing the cups and clay plates as he rubbed them clean off any dirt. What Sung Jin-Woo found relaxing in his life as an E rank was quite fascinating to Ashborn. He too felt his mind wander to ease as the world looked a bit more in order and at peace. Is this the doing of the human body he possesses or has old age finally matured this immortal to someone that wants to feel mortal again. 

What was this feeling of accomplishment that made his lips turn around into a smile?

BANG! 

What was this sudden feeling of hearing such a loud sound that made his skin crawl and his lips fall back down?

Ashborn groaned without thinking. 

[What in the human’s fuckery do you want?]

He also spoke without thinking.

[....My.]

The tools fell from his hands. A ragged cloak and a broom made of a horse’s hair. The silence was a response of his own. This could also be said for the near-invisible flinch on the visitor's eye before hiding it with a smile of its own.

[Had I known you could speak to me with such a tone of voice … I would have tried to anger you more when we were both alive—]

[I wasn’t angry.]

Angry? How does that feel? 27 years have long made him only feel… empty. The anger Jin-Woo had is gone. Sadness is gone when there's nothing else to be sad for. Happiness is the numbness of peace that enters him but never fulfills him. Disgust and Judgement are gone toa being whose desecrate world upon world in the name of vengeance. Regret is for cowards.

Annoyed. That's better. It's more bland than any motion that lingers around him. 

But why does he care about this anyways?

[So you say.] 

The mana around him wavered back to the shadows in the room. The Dragon Monarch stood quiet leaning on the trunk of the door. Glamorous light extended over it as if a halo of gentle fire was draped over the emperor. 

[I suppose you have been to the reaches of the…] He watched the King of Dragons take a repose on one of the fur coated carpets. The chairs seemed too stifled and Ashborn had yet to put a sort of ‘living room’ in his ‘home’ because he never thought there would be a need for it. He never had ‘visitors’ come to visit an eldritch monster like him. [...The Underworld…]

[Nothing but an endless waste of land.]

Ashborn fell into silence. He hadn't expected to see an old enemy again. The Emperor reclined to the wall and looked just as regal as sitting upon a golden throne.  Even the smallest movements were contrived with much elegance as well as mockery to those who he saw as lower.

Basically everyone.

[I burned it all to ash.]

[You had nothing better to do?]

The Dragon Emperor laughed as he watched that ever so stoic face. [I wonder why.] It was more of a statement directed towards him rather than a question. As though he was the reason the ever so destructive being had lost his life.

He placed the tools back to their place and walked towards the former emperor. Maybe he should still be called an emperor since he doesn’t think Jin-Woo will let any other dragon live after this. 

[...How is he?]

[You successor.] It came off as an answer rather than a question.  [His hand was reduced to ash. I doubt he can ever heal it again.]

Just a hand? Ashborn took that for the blessing that it was. 

[He will find a way.]

[How are you so sure?]

Ashborn didn’t respond. His eyes rested on the view of the windowsill where the meadows never stopped dancing as pairs of little children to the wind and the ever-luminescent sky. In a distant memory he was reminded of when he was still a young little fruit. His fragment of light mending inside his body had caused a lot of sickness back in the day. Each morning he and his sister would watch a sight like this before the pain came. His sister would wrap him in blanket upon blanket while adding a few blessings to be heard by the Absolute Being. Ashborn would then watch as his sister danced like the bright star she was. Those same hands that brought flowers and music to his ears were always soft even when they pierced through his flesh— Now a small dancing fire appeared at the rear of the mountains and hunted down the animals until there was nowhere else to run. The smoke rose among the blue sky like a gray sun hoping to pray off the dead's screams.

[That is the fire you caused.]

[It’s a pleasant view from up here.] The Dragon Emperor smirked. [Reminds me of the good ol' days.]

[...] Ashborn backed away. His feet bare to the cold floor while the Dragon Emperor watched the fire brim again. Endless screams suddenly came like a chorus of madness waiting for the hour of judgment. Of peace and sleep. Those weak enough to not move from the burns stayed there shouting and wailing. The strongest moved away to seek shelter in the Ocean of Death. 

Loud steps came crashing the beautiful scenery. A coat of darkness suddenly draped over the pleasantly relaxed Emperor of Chaos enjoying his nostalgic song. 

A dead heart beat again as he heard the darkness come back from its slumber.

[Stop it!]

[Why?]

Red eyes flashed. 

[Because you caused it. This fire is all yours and you can just as easily dissipate it. I don't want it near me. Therefore. Make. It. Disappear.]

[...Do my songs bother you nowadays? Does their scream anger you?]

[I’m not angry. Your present here is just unwelcomed.]

[Therefore, you are angry.]

[I’m not…] He sighed and walked away, shadows coiling over his body before disappearing entirely. The dragon’s red eyes dimmed at the same speck of a moment Ashborn’s real corpse appeared and disappeared. His head moved again as a new shadow loomed over the sky and wrapped the ever so lively wildfire in a blanket of coldness. Frozen hands gently taking the souls of the vampires and elfs to the caves near the eastern mountains. Small animals on his dark palms stretched to the southernmost regions where a breeze of snow whispered sweet healings to the wounds. Hands wrapping their palms in trees to squish out the flames of the forests. More hands–wings— grab about the snow and sprinkle it throughout each fire only for the smoke to fade away when their time comes. 

He thought this had lasted for only a few minutes. His hands and body were too exhausted in the end to care where or who he saved as he kept embracing the fires on his chest. He didn’t even notice just how easy the fire seemed to disperse at his touch. Not a single flicker had burned him. Or was he immune to such pain now? He must be. The spars and battles Antares and him had were beyond counting. Memories beyond infinity. Hatred beyond fate. 

Sweet nothings passed through his ears as he came back home to a lonely shed with not a speck of flame remaining around. Good. As it should.

How long was it since he had worked this much for something so meaningless?

Meaningless? Ashborn turned to the window where the light seemed to be dammed by the smoke of before. A sunset. A sunshine. Both and at the same time none. Orange hues now cascading upon the light. Another buried memory woke up as if waiting for its time. Sunshine in Etriston. When the sun exploded and light spared no witness to it’s shine. His eyes were blinded by it’s suicide until he could no longer take it and cloouded himself in darkness. The Emperor showed no signs of care. 

And yet… The next day a sunset appeared. 

[He used the fragments of the sun to create another dragon.] The Beast Monarch answered him upon noticing the sun’s light had faded. [I don’t know how he did it but at least we can see this new world now.]

He wrapped every blanket on him again when it was time to ‘sleep’. 

Another thought passed on abou the talking wolf.

[The Dragons name? Aurora. A dragon worth remembering.]

Is she down here as well?