Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Awakening To the Dream	By : ChimaeraChan Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 45317 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-CH1
- 2-CH2
- 3-CH3
- 4-CH4
- 5-CH5
- 6-CH6
- 7-CH7
- 8-Ch8
- 9-Ch9
- 10-Ch10
- 11-CH11
- 12-CH12
- 13-CH13
- 14-CH14
- 15-CH15
- 16-CH16
- 17-CH17
- 18-CH18
- 19-Ch19
- 20-CH20
- 21-CH21
- 22-Ch22
- 23-CH23
- 24-CH24
- 25-CH25
- 26-CH26
- 27-CH27
- 28-CH28
- 29-CH29
- 30-CH30
- 31-CH31
- 32-CH32
- 33-CH33
- 34-CH34
- 35-CH35
- 36-CH36
- 37-CH37
- 38-CH38
- 39-CH39
- 40-CH40
- 41-Ch41
- 42-Ch42
- 43-Ch43
- 44-Ch44
- 45-Ch45
- 46-Ch46
- 47-Ch47
- 48-Ch48
- 49-Ch49
- 50-Ch50 *End Part 1*
- 51-Ch51
- 52-Ch52
- 53-Ch53
- 54-Ch54
- 55-Ch55
- 56-CH56
- 57-CH57
- 58-CH58
- 59-CH59
- 60-CH60
- 61-CH61
- 62-CH62
- 63-CH63
- 64-CH64
- 65-CH65
- 66-CH66
- 67-CH67 *New 6/6/2015*
- 68-CH68
- 69-CH69
- 58
- 59
- 60
Woo, I promised this earlier… and once again I’ve lied. XP Sorry. >_< Um, but here’s two new chappies, and yay, we’re back to the castle after this! ^^
So, this is basically a ‘why odd things will be happening to the Faelings’ as taught to Seamus. And you get a glimpse into just what the immortals are. Anyone remember Beau? Anyone? O_o
Lovers U all for reviews and the wonderful sweetness! ^.^
Sbkar: Just incase you didn’t read it in the review section--Ch51-53 concern memories to Harry's summer before Harry is scooped up by Death Eaters, but also introduce new characters as they watch these memories. Everything after stays in the current time line... although arguably, I never really leave it because they are just viewed memories... as confusing as that is. @_@ I looked over the long chapters and haven't found anything cut off. It could just be my abrupt endings to chapters. XD If not though, and AFF is giving you trouble, you can always read it here -- http://voxfuriae.livejournal.com/888.html Hope that helps. Part 2 starts off with a completely different atmosphere, slowing down after the events of Ch50. It may seem slow starting out, but it's to help the pacing of the story and it will pick up eventually.
Chantalmalfoy: I’m pretty sure I emailed you, but just incase, you’re added to the mailing list as per request. <3
Eroburn: I don’t know whether to laugh at that or cry. >_< The Harry frowning thing… gotta pay more attention to the writing style I guess. >_> *pokes story*

CH59
“To the greatest of your ability? Until the Fae call you home?”
“I accept.”
“Then mark the cover here with your blood. From this moment on, Seamus Finnigan, you are an official Recorder. You can begin your writing whenever you see fit, but remember, your true task is to record the Heir’s movements and accounts. Every ten years you will be called back to the Unvoiced, and there we will incorporate your pages into the other living books until the Heir moves from this mortal realm again.”
The air falling still again as Sir Pascal’s voice lost its unearthly quality, Seamus came back to himself. He stared at the large book in his hands. “…Living?”
“Yes, in the basic sense of the word. It has a dim awareness that will allow you to call up information, and it has a renewable source of pages. It also has the ability to record your thoughts, but that doesn’t come easily. Lucky for you, it has its own instruction manual in the back.” Sir Pascal added with a chuckle. “Now, your blood has bonded the book to you, but it is also bonded to its brothers in a lesser sense. This is how we can transfer knowledge to the dark book through them. Take care of your book, and it will treat you well. If you find that you’ve come to a final page, or words are being lost, you can’t find paragraphs, chapters; if things aren’t working proper, then you’re not taking care of your book. These books are precious, and you should try your best to treat yours as such.”
“Okay.” He wasn’t sure, but it felt almost like the book was warmer than it should be. “Do I need to, um, feed it?”
“No, no, nothing like that. Although if it’s in really bad shape, heaven forbid, a bit of your blood can help get it back to top shape.”
“So until I learn this thought thing, what do I use to write in it? What if I want to erase something… or what if I accidentally spill ink, or something?”
“Calm down, boy. The book will take care of spelling and formatting, among organizing and a many other things it will be happy to tell you. Any pen will do, and if that isn’t available you can use your finger and the book will supply ink for you. As for accidents… I suggest refraining from them. This book seems particularly stubborn, and has been known to snap at its binder ever since she nicked its spine with a letter opener.”
Great, he just had to end up with the ornery one. Seamus jumped when the book in his hand shook, giving a ruffled growl of pages.
“Watch what you think when you’re holding it.” Sir Pascal warned.
“…Sorry?” Seamus gave the book a hesitant pat. He had never really been big on books that was more a Dean thing. It seemed pretty cool though. Really, who could claim to have a book that could do the research for you? Ha, Hermione would be green.
“Um, so can this book give and get information from its… err, siblings?” He asked, wondering if he’d be able to maybe put it to work doing homework.
“Well, it’s not unheard of.” Sir Pascal admitted thoughtfully. “It depends on the willingness of the book, and its rapport with the others. The books have their own sense of privacy and security, which is why the ritual is needed to get them to divulge willingly. I should warn you though, do not keep it around rowdy, low class books, for they may corrupt it. Believe me, it takes ages to undue that sort of crass behavior.”
“Okay… I guess I can build it a shelf or something…” Buh-bye Quidditch Throughout the Ages, and Marvel comics.
“That, and you’ll keep it in this coverlet when not in use. I suggest something stronger, and temperature secure when storing. You’ll be with this book for a long time, after all.”
Because he would be living for a long time… there just never seemed to be an escape from that. “Alright. I’ll read through the instructions tonight, I guess.” He took the silky bag that was for storing the book, and tucked both under his arm. “Was there anything else?”
“Just a bit of advice. Talk to it; the books like attention.”
“…Heh, sure.” Like hell. He shuffled off with a fake smile planted on his face until he reached his room. Once warded away, he tossed the book carelessly on his desk and slumped onto his bed.
It was well past midnight and Seamus was happily submerged in a long, brooding depression when he heard a noise by one of the windows. Realizing it was probably just Musa, he ignored it, turning to his side away from the night air. He hoped everyone would just leave him alone for a while. The noise passed, and Seamus almost thought he had gained a reprieve, but moments later it returned louder, and… Was that fluttering?
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He glared emptily as a large sandy brown bird swooped in, dropping a thick letter on his head before landing on his desk. “Seriously, couldn’t you have waited till tomor—Oi!” The bird screeched as Seamus leapt from his bed to stop the foul creature from clawing at his book. “Little bugger—this is worth a thousand of you!” He held the book protectively to his chest while shooing the bird back out the window. “Damn it.” He quickly unwrapped the ties to the curtains, pulling the thin white drapes over the windows, then sat down to inspect the book.
Thankfully, it was free of damage, although it brought to point just how worried he was for the thing, even if he didn’t exactly like having it. Carefully he placed the book in its coverlet, and left it in the top drawer of the desk so nothing could get at it. The letter was still sitting on his bed. He grabbed it, saw it wasn’t even addressed to him, and lost it.
“Stupid, fucking—I hate this place. I hate this stupid room, and the stupid animals, and these lame ass stupid wings! I hate this! I just want to go home!—But I can’t because I’ll end up killing people, and all because of some stupid, long lost ancestor that just had to fuck around with an Anhk Ro!”
His discontent echoing off the ridiculously high walls of the prison he found himself in, he plopped back on the bed, glaring up at the ceiling.
A rustle woke him once again from his brooding, this time from the curtains blowing in the wind. The letter had landed on the floor, and he picked it up mechanically, staring at the name once again.
My Lord and Master, Juro, The Silent Void
On the back was a complex seal in deep red wax, nearly black, of a phoenix and serpent in a perpetual embrace of violence. Seamus sniffed it hesitantly; blood was clearly ingrained in the wax, old blood. Well, it certainly wasn’t going to get to Juro sitting in his bedroom, now was it?
He eyed the door warily, sensing the strong wards behind it. Whenever he’d heard Master Juro mentioned he’d sounded pretty bad-ass, so the guy could probably take care of himself if Seamus happened to run into him tonight. He didn’t expect to though, since the man wasn’t due back till tomorrow. And he’d already determined that everyone else in the temple wasn’t a threat. He’d just drop the letter off in Juro’s study, and come back in after a nice relaxing walk—alone, for a change.
Settled, he crept to the windows, and judged the width and the distance to the ground critically. Not allowing himself to chicken out, he hoisted up, and slid out feet first, his talons gripping the stone ledge tightly. He landed without a scratch; surprising considering a normal person would have been torn up from the rough texture of the stone wall. Maybe being an Anhk Ro had some perks after all.
Once outside, and having set the location of his room from the exterior of the compound, he felt the niggling regret of leaving the stupid book behind. It wasn’t like anyone was going to take it… but he still felt responsible. Next time, maybe. He set off for the entrance through the thick dark, sprinting around to the back gardens to use the door there to get back in.
*******
The main building was dark, the moonlight from outside barely illuminating the spacious halls and rooms. Seamus added another plus to being an Anhk Ro: night vision. There was one light still on though. A narrow beam of warmth shone from the room he was intent on. He stopped at the crack of light uncertainly, debating if he should intrude on whoever was still up. Kayne probably wouldn’t give him any problems for being up so late without a chaperone, but Regan or Musa would be quick to chew him out. And Oran would likely lead him into more trouble if given the chance.
A rustle carried from the room, followed by a smooth, rhythmic voice with origins he couldn’t decipher beyond male. “He said to expect it shortly.”
Seamus froze, his new senses coming to attention. Whoever was in there was not among the ranks of the Anhk Ro, or the Unvoiced. He tasted great age, blood… and chaos? Silently he edged around the beam of light, moving closer to the door to possibly see who was in there. Annoyed, he realized he had no idea what Juro was supposed to look like, so he really wouldn’t know if it was him or not.
“I’d rather wish the old boy would get around to buying a telephone. All this owling is plain nonsense when you’re in a hurry.” Another voice spoke, as low and soothing as the first, but with a strange accent that leaned more towards British.
“Well, if you want to go on that tangent, I imagine dear Masou could teleport down, and see us in person like a proper gentleman.”
They were wizards at the very least, Seamus decided. He wasn’t quite sure what teleporting was, but he knew about telephones since dad had refused to get rid of theirs even when they had the floo, and owling was certainly a wizard custom. Likely one of the people in the room was Juro if they were waiting around for an owl.
“Ah, you always were deluded about our Masou. You gave him too much leeway as a child, and now the boy can’t be bothered to get off his lazy ass and visit.”
“I happen to remember a certain brother whose only concern was teaching the little immortal nothing but mayhem and mischief…”
“Well, it did suit the boy.” Seamus tensed, realizing the voice was getting louder.
“Mmhmm… I can check this time, if you like.”
“That’s alright, brother. I’m more than capable of finding my way around after all this time…”
Oh shit, this was going to look bad. Seamus quickly backpedaled from the door, looking around for an escape. Naturally, the larger than hell hallway held none. Who the fuck needed all that space anyways?! It was bloody wasteful—!
“…Hello, hello? What do we have here?” The door pushed outward, light spilling into the corridor, and momentarily blinding Seamus like a frightened quail in the sights.
Seamus automatically raised his hands at the tall figure that smelled like contained chaos, incidentally revealing the letter clutched between his talons.
“Oh! Juro, the owl is here!” The man turned, calling back into the room. Hearing the Master of the House’s name, Seamus relaxed a bit. Surely he wouldn’t let his guest be hurt in his house… even though he was breaking the rules by being out without a guard… and wandering his halls with his mail, at that… No, he was screwed. Definitely screwed.
“Well send the bird in, Beau. Furiae only knows what Masou has to say at a time like this.”
“I would… but I do believe he’s scared senseless.” Beau took a cautious step towards Seamus, watching to see if he’d bolt, or faint. “You poor thing; what was Masou thinking sending a frightened thing like you?” He bent down to the boy’s level, a dark smile curving his painted lips. “You’re a cute little bird. I may have to steal you from Masou since he obviously doesn’t think much for your welfare.”
Seamus had the wild impression of pale skin, and dark, lush curls, before piercing red eyes caught, and held him still.
“Beau, don’t tell me you tried to open…” Juro stopped in the doorway, holding a bloodied rag to his shoulder. “Halt, brother. That is not our owl.”
“…No? Such a shame.” Beau straightened, waving his hand in front of Seamus’ face, and snapping him out of his spell. “Who is he, then?”
“The newborn Anhk Ro. I think you should step back, actually. I can’t remember if Master Kayne found him to be safe or not.”
“Certainly he’s safe. Otherwise he’d be on you by now.” Beau firmly took hold of Seamus’ arm, walking the boy towards the lit room, and Juro’s injured form. “Come along, now. You have something that doesn’t belong to you.”
“I do hope you didn’t open it, young man. Masou has a talent for hexing his letters against nosy-bodies.” Juro stepped aside, drawing a chair for Seamus, and returned to leaning on his desk to clean his shoulder.
Seamus shook his head hastily, shaking off the strange feeling he had gotten from being entranced again. “I didn’t, sir. I just, uh… well this bird dropped it on my head, see? And then it went after Lote, so I chased it away. But I didn’t know it wasn’t for me until it was gone. So, I-I uh, thought I’d leave it in your study for whenever you returned.” He finished in a rush, fear and embarrassment a bad mix on his already taunt nerves.
“Lote? I do hope you haven’t lost a pet while here.” Beau took the seat beside the desk, a long figure of muscle and curls in his ankle length leather coat and knee high boots still caked in dust from outside. They must have just arrived, because minus his shirt and coat, Juro’s pants and boots suggested that they had recently been in a cooler climate than the surrounding plains. Wherever they had been, they had obviously been dressed to impress.
“Uh, well Lote is sort of the name of my book…” Seamus explained weakly, wondering briefly if hiding under his chair was considered in bad taste.
“Was it a brown bird, perchance? Long tail feathers and a nasty attitude?” Seamus nodded. “Ah, you must be the new Recorder then. Masou likes to attack my book; he must have confused it for yours.” Beau gave Seamus an appraising look, smirking when the boy blushed in response. “Well look who’s the new Recorder…”
Hoping to draw attention from himself, Seamus asked the first thing that came to mind. “W-Why was your friend trying to attack your book, sir?”
“That’s a game they like to play. Masou likes to break Beau’s things, and Beau likes to steal Masou’s playthings for his own.” Juro explained, shifting his arm and pulling the rag away to examine his wound. It was raw, a wide bloodied chunk of flesh missing that couldn’t have come from any weapon Seamus knew about. “Beau, I believe I’m going to need your assistance after all. The magic in the attack is slowing my regeneration.”
Beau got up, removed his coat and rolled up his silk shirtsleeves, while Juro collected some bandages. “Is there anything I can do?” Seamus asked, the seriousness of the wound winning over his fear.
Juro exchanged a look with Beau before shrugging, and beckoning Seamus over. “As long as you don’t taste the blood, I don’t think we’ll have a problem. For now just tend to the bandages. I’ll let you know when you need to apply pressure, alright?”
“Okay.” Seamus was slow to move, strange scents showing up the closer he got to the two. Juro didn’t necessarily smell bad, so much as if an echo of rot surrounded him. He edged closer, sniffing in what he hoped was an inconspicuous manner. Apparently it wasn’t.
Eyeing him thoughtfully, Juro raised his good arm and placed his wrist under Seamus’ nose. “Go ahead, little one. We’re here to teach you, after all.”
Ignoring the part of his mind that told him that sniffing people was not acceptable social behavior in any circle, Seamus took a deep breath, immediately stepping back once all the scents registered. A mental picture grew in his mind. A strange form… portions that had been rotting away at one point had been cut clean, leaving behind scars that echoed faintly of the corruption of before. The whole had grown since then, still powerful and healthy to replace the amputated parts, but never to be the same as before. Seamus just stared at Juro, not sure what any of it meant.
“You can put that on the table.” Juro nodded towards the forgotten letter still crushed in Seamus’ grasp. “I’m surprised to find you up so late. I’m very strict with Musa about bedtime.”
“Oh… uhh…”
“Looks like we have an old stay out. Not to worry, we won’t chew you out over it. I haven’t been to bed since last month.” Beau divulged with a smirk.
“Is that why your… uh, you know…” Beau raised a brow, and Seamus was forced to finish the thought. “Your eyes. Are they red because you don’t sleep?”
“Oh, my. I do believe he’s poking fun at you, Beau.”
“I do believe you’re right. What’s your name, boy?”
Seamus took a step back, fiddling with a roll of bandages. “Seamus Finnigan, sir. I wasn’t really—well, maybe a little…” He looked away, feeling lightheaded.
Beau pursed his lips. “Just when was his exritus, brother? He hardly seems well enough to be out and about just yet.”
“I don’t believe he is, actually. Seamus, would you like to sit back down for a while? We’re more than capable of taking care of this on our own.” Seamus gave a quick nod, unsteadily plopping back into his leather chair.
“Sorry, I, uh… you both are really overwhelming to my senses, I think.”
“I should imagine so. There was a reason you have not been allowed out while I’m here—ahh!” Juro wrenched his arm away before Beau could examine it further.
“Quit your whining and hold still. You act as though you’ve never been injured.”
“It’s been a while—stop that! …Owww… Gods, I hate magic. I should have gutted that brat when I had the chance a millennium ago.”
Seamus watched curiously as Juro squirmed and eventually gave in to the prodding of his arm, although his grimace told it wasn’t appreciated. “How’d you… that is, if you don’t mind telling…?
Beau smiled, while Juro hissed as his shoulder began to smoke. “Juro and I decided to crash an old friend’s party. It was going well until some of the younger ones started speaking out of turn. We were forced to… defend ourselves.” Beau’s smile turned deadly, and Seamus knew without explanation that the two brothers had left a bloodbath behind. “Chassin got in a lucky shot on Juro’s shoulder, and then it all went bad from there. Poor Evora was left with quite a mess; I doubt she’ll be inviting us again.”
“I thought you said you crashed the party?”
“We are always welcome in Evora’s home. But with the tension going on among the immortals, it is easier if we come unannounced so as not to put our allies in a tight spot, or alert our enemies of our whereabouts.” Juro explained. “This,” he nodded to his shoulder, “Was the misfortune of a cutting spell ricocheting off one of Evora’s ancient mirrors.” He narrowed his eyes as his shoulder gave a startling pop and began to flame. “Beau, are you trying to heal me, or burn me? You know how I feel about being set on fire.”
“Whine, whine, whine. Your hair is completely unscathed, brother.” Dismissive as he sounded, Beau was swift to smother the flames with his hands. “I’m telling you, we should have seen that old hag up in the Alps. She’s a wiz on those foolish mirrors of Evora’s.” He began muttering in a strange language, his smoldering hands glowing red, then a cool blue. Juro’s shoulder gave another pop and hiss, and the flesh started to knit together.
Disturbed by the smell of burning flesh, Seamus squirmed deeper into his chair. “So really, why do you immortals kill each other all the time?”
“Hmm, you would think that living long would give some of them a penchant towards peaceful living—Beau, stop poking!” Juro’s glare seemed to have no effect on his brother’s smile.
“You’re such a baby. Now hold still.” Beau poked him on the cheek before returning to healing. “Unfortunately for immortals, as with the rest of the world, they aren’t all born with brains, I’m afraid. Really, Seamus, the longer you live, the more you find stupidity to be an affront to the senses. If it was just in a human we could let it pass, but immortals live a long time, and it’s a small planet. Sometimes you just really don’t want to see someone ever again.”
“That seems… barbaric.” Seamus said faintly.
“…It is.” Juro raised his head, a serious look on his face. “Survival isn’t pretty, boy.”
Seamus looked away, not having an answer to how these ancient beings viewed the world. “So… when do you decide an immortal is too stupid to keep living?”
“You’re permitted the first two hundred years to live. Immortals are strictly forbidden from killing the newborns, inadvertent or directly. That doesn’t mean you’re protected from the other elements of the world, but immortals have the innate ability to protect themselves. Those are instinct you shouldn’t ignore.” Juro’s solemn expression made Seamus wonder just how much of his progress Kayne had been discussing with the man. It also brought a dozen questions to mind, things he wanted to ask without the sugaring the Anhk Ro gave him. Yeah, Kayne had said he could ask him anything, but the things he wanted to ask he just couldn’t dump on the man that had been so kind to him since the beginning.
“This may seem a strange question… but is there any way to not be an immortal anymore? Like with Musa; is there anyway I can stop being… being this?”
“Death is your easiest choice.” Juro replied frankly, as if expecting the question. “If that doesn’t appeal to you, you can injure yourself to the point that your regenerative powers become null, leaving you as defenseless as most mortals. No matter what ritual you try, you will always be an Anhk Ro. Some other immortals have more choices, but not the Anhk Ro, for their creator ensured their survival in their genetics. You may be able to appear human, but you will always be Anhk Ro.”
“And my children? What do I do to make sure that my kids don’t end up like me?” Seamus sat up, wanting to know this more than anything since he had woken up changed.
“The chances of you siring an Anhk Ro are very high if you mate with another of your kind. They lessen to about seventy-five percent if you mate with a human, magical or not. …And if you choose to mate with another immortal that is not an Anhk Ro, you are guaranteed that they will not be Anhk Ro, but in the same way, they will certainly be immortal.”
Seamus swore softly, covering his head with his hands. “So that’s it, huh? If I want kids they’ll end up like this. Shit… I can’t do that to another living being. …Shit.”
“Not exactly.” Juro raised his arm to let Beau wrap clean bandages on his slowly healing flesh. “You’re lucky in the case that the Anhk Ro genetics are not compatible with those of magical creatures. You risk small chance when mating with a halfling, such as elves or nagas, but for the most part the human genes are overpowered by the magical creature’s enough so that the Anhk Ro genes have no place to develop. Although, you should know that most immortals choose not to have children. There is an equal pain in gifting the burden of everlasting life, and the heartbreak of watching your children pass away.
“If you do choose to have children, you will have a limited time to do so. The Anhk Ro are able to reproduce in five twenty-year periods, spread out over two thousand years. After that you will become sterile indefinitely, and your scales will shed their final time, hardening into your adult phase. Your first cycle has already started with the arrival of your exritus, and soon you will have to deal with the results of that.” Juro explained evenly. “You will find your body responding mindlessly until you mate successfully or your first twenty years are through. After that your body will change, your unnecessary functions shutting down for a good four hundred years before you will need to worry again about propagating… although certainly you will not be dead to sensation. The Fae Lexaddo did this so his creations would focus on their duty. But to preserve their race, Lexaddo ensured that the mating pull would be too great to resist. Thankfully, your kind has come up with many a way to battle the mindless state, something I’m sure Master Kayne will be teaching you later.”
Seamus nodded glumly, having remembered Kayne mentioning something about blind urges that weren’t just related to killing. He didn’t mind that so much as not being able to have a family. He’d grown up with a large family. No brothers or sisters, but his aunt’s family lived in the same house as him, so it had felt like all his nieces and nephews had been his siblings. Family was important to him, and he had been looking forward to starting a large one of his own. Another thing ruined. If he wanted kids that wouldn’t become crazy monsters he’d have to mate with… well, with monsters.
He tried to look at it objectively, thinking back to the nagas from the other night, and all the magical creatures he’d seen over the years. The Veelas weren’t that bad… until they started going all bird like. There had been some pretty nagas in Portent, but once he started thinking of coupling with them the whole thing seemed alien, if not creepy.
“We do mean humanoid, by the way.” Beau added, breaking Seamus from his thoughts. “Halflings and humans are your only option; you can’t mate with full-blooded magical creatures. The genetics won’t mix otherwise. If you are desperate for mortal children, you can always undergo a mating ritual to ensure that your child’s characteristics don’t hold the Anhk Ro trait. Just know that most humans can’t survive the sort of mating the Anhk Ro embrace, so be careful when choosing a partner.”
“What do mean ‘survive’?” Seamus asked suspiciously, wondering what else could go wrong in his life at that moment.
“You see your pretty claws, right? The Anhk Ro use them in subduing their mate. A normal human wouldn’t live one coupling from the blood loss alone.”
“…Oh.” Seamus stared at his hand warily, flexing his talons. “Can’t I just… not use them?”
Juro shook his head. “By the time you’ve learned to overcome your mating urge, you’d already be too old to have children. Most halflings are hearty creatures, so you shouldn’t worry. More than half would likely enjoy the experience of mating with an Anhk Ro.”
Seamus crinkled his nose. “Weird.”
Chuckling, Beau turned his red gaze from Juro’s shoulder to wink at Seamus. “Just because you wouldn’t give an Anhk Ro a romp doesn’t mean you won’t find many interested in the prospect.”
Seamus blushed. “Really? Even though it would hurt?”
“That’s half the fun.” Beau raised his free hand to reveal claws hidden within the pads of his fingers like a large cats’. “It’s instinctual. Hard not to enjoy it, really.”
“I don’t get that…” Seamus admitted, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Like, how can you get wounded and hate it, yet like it when you’re mating? Come on, if it’s going to kill a normal person, you really can’t say it’s fun.”
“Eh, well it’s sort of tricky to explain without going into the brain and body chemistry of the Anhk Ro, as well as…” Beau paused, his eyes glinting towards Juro’s. “Actually… it would be easier just to show you.”
“Oh really?” Juro countered tiredly. “Don’t you think I’ve been through enough today?” Beau continued to stare until Juro sighed, and shrugged in agreement. “Fine. But don’t go poking at my shoulder.”
Smiling triumphantly, Beau began gathering Juro’s long hair from his neck, pulling it into a low ponytail and tying it behind the man’s back. “Alright, lad, now watch carefully, because brother dear doesn’t show this side of himself to just anyone. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, he’s been a bit cranky, especially when being poked around his nasty wound. But… with a little receptive coaxing… things can go very different.”
Soft fingers ran across Juro’s throat, knuckles brushing down to his collarbone and chest. “Mmm… get my back, will you?” He gave a sigh as deft fingers dug into the muscles on his back, carefully relaxing the wounded flesh of his shoulder and neck.
“…You’re tense.”
“It’s been a bad couple of months… Tonight was actually a release.”
“Hah, you always did like a good fight.” Beau leaned forward, his hands slowly moving up Juro’s back and stopping lightly on his upper arms. “How do you feel?”
Juro rolled his head back, normally frosted green eyes glazed heatedly. Beau took that as his cue, and turned his attention to the embarrassed boy watching them. “Can you feel the change in him? It’s almost tangible because of his power, like a sweet, heady taste in the air.”
Seamus nodded dumbly, his voice stuck somewhere in his throat.
“Now, while in this state, reactions change. Juro isn’t an Anhk Ro, but the Anhk Ro share the immortals’ genetic traits. We have no fear of killing a lover accidentally, but the Anhk Ro do not have the same stability a healthy immortal has. Emotions tend to overwhelm your higher brain function, leading to your inability to control your reactions. This trance like state is the sign that an immortal, and many Faelings at that, are switching to a more physical state of being. It’s similar to a hunter’s trance, or when one is thick in battle. The only true distinction is the difference in the scent he gives off. Don’t be fooled by his dazed stare; he is still alert and aware, more so even. At the moment he is a current of harnessed energy waiting for an outlet.” Beau exposed his set of claws, holding them over Juro’s uninjured shoulder. “His outlet is stimulus. And stimulus, little bird, feels good.” He slowly ran a claw down Juro’s cheek, drawing a muffled groan from the man.
“Now here’s the fun part. Depending on the stimulus, the reaction will vary. Naturally, you can assume that a large stimulus…” Beau suddenly sliced his hand down Juro’s chest, four red slashes emblazoning the man like a brilliant crest. Juro screamed in shock, his body convulsing and arching back. A gaping breath later and he was boneless and panting, his hand to his chest in a way that could only be increasing the pain.
“Is he… I mean…” Seamus squirmed. Juro’s foggy eyes reached for his and sent a strange, intense spark with it.
“No need to worry.” Beau assured. “The state we go into prevents pain from registering negatively. It’s common among Faelings, and normal wiring for immortals. Juro could be dying, and think he was okay because of the chemical reactions going on in his body. Of course, when you gain enough experience you’ll be able to discern actual dangers to your health from harmless pain. This sort of wound is nothing for an immortal.”
“So he’s okay?” Seamus asked a little more confidently since he could see Juro’s new cuts already healing.
“…More than okay.” Juro gasped out, straightening and swaying on his feet while Beau held him still. “Again… now.” Beau immediately matched the first set of slices on the other side of Juro’s chest, this time drawing only a loud moan and a great jerking shudder from the pale form. “Oh… oh, that’s nice…” Juro sighed lazily, eyes slit open to see Seamus’ dumbstruck face. “I needed that more than I thought.”
“Has it been a while?” Beau murmured inaudibly into Juro’s hair.
“Y-yes…” Juro writhed as Beau sunk his claws shallowly into his side and back.
“Good. I’m going to go put the little bird to bed, and when I get back we’re going to finish this downstairs.”
“Yes, but… but Musa’s home…”
“He’s in bed.”
“Diane will alert him that I’m home. I don’t want him to see.”
“He’s smarter than you think, you know. He’s aware.” Juro blinked, his expression growing stormy. Beau sighed, knowing that look. “The bird can’t be much older than Musa. Stop babying the boy; it will only stunt his development. Clean up, and meet me downstairs. And don’t forget Masou’s letter.”
Juro looked like he was going to refuse, but another shudder shook him, convincing him otherwise. “…Alright… but just this once.” He agreed, pulling away shakily, and leaning against his desk to collect himself. “I apologize, Seamus, but it’s getting late, and it’s been a long night. I’ll be happy to finish this conversation another time… just not tonight.”
“Uh, yeah, s-sure.” Seamus answered quickly, hesitantly rising from his chair. He hadn’t heard what the two had said, but his imagination was filling in the blanks for him well enough. “I’ll just, um, go back to my room now…” He mumbled, hurrying towards the door.
“Wait for me, little bird. There’s no point waking up your brothers just to remove the wards, when I’m up to do it.” It took a moment for Seamus to understand what ‘brothers’ Beau was talking about. Actually the two men were probably the same, and not really brothers… except, besides the stark difference of hair and eye color, the two did share similar shaped features that rather looked related…
“Alright, then.” Seamus stopped in the doorway, and gave a curious look back to Juro’s slumped form. “Umm… goodnight, Master Juro. Thanks for, uh… the talk, and stuff.”
Juro raised his head, his normal expressionless look in place. “Please, Seamus, Juro is fine, and if you must, Elder. You’re my guest; no need for such formalities.”
“Yes, sir—uh, Juro. I hope you feel better.” With a faint smile Seamus hurried away.
“Soon enough.” Juro whispered, watching Beau’s retreating back before pushing from the desk and dealing with Masou’s letter.
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Awakening To the Dream