Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Disobedience and Correction or The Blood of Wings ❯ Disobedience and Correction or The Blood of Wings ( One-Shot )

Disclaimer- I do not own Escaflowne, Folken, or Dilandau. I am not making any money from this story. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Disobedience and Correction

or

The Blood of Wings

"Idiot…is it so hard to follow orders? It should be rather easy and ingrained into a soldier's being. A command is issued and is then obeyed. This is the basic understanding that keeps a hierarchy of any kind intact. Without this understanding, all systems of government and military would collapse. However, if this is so well known, why can't Dilandau obey? Time and time again, he has done exactly what I have ordered him not to do! If I am the one in control and issuing the orders, then why can't he follow through like everyone else?" Folken thought grimly as he pinched the bridge of his nose while Sora relayed the information describing Dilandau's latest act of disobedience. However, as usual, Folken already knew exactly how the young officer had failed him before the prophetess had ever voiced a single syllable. As always, the incident pertained to his annoying brother, Van. Once more, instead of focusing on obtaining the Wing Goddess or Escaflowne so that Folken could destroy everything and erase the sorrow of Gaea, the fool was off chasing the glory of an impossible victory over Van. Folken did not doubt Dilandau's ability to kill the winged pest, but it was impossible for him to defeat Van since it was Folken's right, not some young upstart officer, to kill the chosen king. This, of course, had also been explained and Dilandau's inability to obey was most annoying.

"Lord Folken?" Sora called softly, puzzled with her lord's disinterest in her report.

"Forgive me, Sora." Folken replied curtly "I have heard your report…please admit Dilandau and leave me with him. He must learn once and for all who is master here." The lord finished quickly. His tone was habitually cold but a new and underlying element in his voice unnerved Sora, forcing her to pause for a moment. However, she knew who was master and soon turned to fulfill his order.

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Towering, decorative, intimidating. The doors to Folken's throne room stood in front of Dilandau like a thin barrier between the damned and hell. A slight snarl formed on his lips as he glared at the intricate engravings in the wood. Every delicate curve embedded in the grain angered him for they represented Folken. Everything in the castle represented Folken. Everything that was Folken symbolized the unbreakable wedge that separated Dilandau from his much-desired victory over the demon Van. It was that very same wedge that teased him into waywardness with its constant gifts that begged to be tested. Could anyone name a better way to test out a new war toy than to try it out on one's rival? Dilandau couldn't.

The sudden soundless opening of the large doors unceremoniously interrupted the young lord's thoughts. What was once a view clouded by gaudy carvings yielded to a familiar petite woman with golden locks and pointed ears. Her violet eyes searched his mad ones with a shield of wisdom too deeply embedded in her for Dilandau to discern her motives. Although the woman was indeed beautiful and would have normally been greeted with a haughty smirk, she too represented Folken and only received a deeper frown.

"Sora…" The young lord growled.

"Lord Folken will see you now." The woman replied lightly as she moved aside.

"Oh will he? Well, we mustn't let him wait now should we?" Dilandau snapped, a cocky smirk slowly forming on his lips in hopes of eliciting some reaction from the woman other than her usual laconic replies. He failed. With an over exaggerated "Hmpf!" the officer took a step toward the throne room but was stopped when a small hand touched his shoulder.

"Do not tempt him, Lord Dilandau." Sora whispered and removed her hand. With a slight nod, she walked on down the corridor, leaving a slightly confused Dilandau standing in the doorway. However, Dilandau's confusion was short lived for a deep voice soon called from within the chamber.

"Dilandau…"

Dilandau's brows lowered as he stole a moment to take a breath in order to set his façade of mad indifference. Once he was sure his mask was in place, the young lord continued his slow yet dignified trudge into Folken's presence.

The Black Dragon stared down at the silver haired youth. The young officer held his head high as he walked with precision and grace. When he reached an appropriate distance, he stopped his march and took on a pose that did not display any humble or respectful intentions. Instead, the boy took on an arrogant stance, which was fueled further by the maddening rage in his eyes. This angered Folken. Where was his sorrow? Where was his pain? The only feeling that Folken could read in Dilandau's eyes, besides the sea of madness and collage of anger or hate, was a twinge of fear. However, there was not enough fear in the young lord to appease Folken and that only enraged the dark lord more.

"Dilandau…" He repeated icily.

"Yes, Lord Folken. You called." The Dragonslayers' commander bit back, ignoring Sora's warning.

"Yes…yes I did." The Black Dragon replied as he rose from his seat. "You have disobeyed my orders time and…"

"If you are speaking of the Van incident, it was impossible to avoid." Dilandau interrupted; already bored with the usual beginning of the same long and tedious lecture Folken gave every time the youthful commander attacked Van.

Folken had been upset a moment ago, maybe even furious. Now he was enraged to the point that his own cold mask was cracking to reveal his true emotion. "How dare Dilandau speak with such disrespect!" His eyes narrowed into dark slivers as his mouth contorted into a snarl. However, this show of emotion only lasted a brief second before Folken could rein in his expression. He was now determined to erase the mad anger in Dilandau's eyes. Once pure, those orbs would be filled with the sorrow befitting a follower of the Black Dragon. He would break Dilandau, and Folken could not help a smug smirk from forming as the young man in question began backpedaling. Dilandau's own façade had fallen. What was once a face full of pride, fury, and a dash of insanity had been overrun with soul shaking fear. This pleased Folken greatly.

"As I was saying, " the Black Dragon began again as he stepped toward Dilandau. The boy was shuddering with fear, causing his hair to shimmer in the dim light of the room. Folken did not know why this interested him, but he did not need to give an explanation, not even to himself. He was Commander of the Black Dragon Clan after all! If he wanted to admire those silvery locks before he commenced the breaking of the youth, he would. However, they were too far away at the moment to truly look at them. That, of course, was easy to remedy. With no more exertion than a thought, Folken levitated Dilandau and pulled the youth to him with his rather handy psychic powers.

Dilandau had almost cried out when he felt his feet leave the fragile safety of the floor. He thanked the gods that he had not. He had lost enough pride to Folken by merely showing the fear that screamed in his very core. He was now determined that he would not voice a single one of those screams for the Black Dragon's audile pleasure.

In hopes of concealing his true emotions and expressions, Dilandau forced himself to avoid any sort of visual contact with Folken while he floated toward the dark lord. He needed those precious seconds to recover his strength and shield of derangement spliced wrath to save himself from shattering further. He would not allow himself to lose any more dignity to that sadistic…depressed…well, he was not exactly sure what Folken was, but that did not matter. Even if the Black Dragon beat his body beyond recognition, he would not surrender his mind or pride anymore.

It was not long until Dilandau was pulled out of his personal pep rally by a gentle caress over his hair. He had expected a slap, punch, or maybe even a psychic attack but a caress? The young lord looked up at Folken with a stern look that hopefully hid his bewilderment. The Black Dragon no longer possessed the smirk or cold fury from minutes ago. Instead, he seemed too distracted with the silver strands to really notice to whom they belonged to. Had he forgotten that he was supposed to be berating Dilandau and not running his fingers through the youth's hair? Dilandau knew that that was ridiculous. He was quite sure that Folken was merely entertaining himself while concocting a horrible plan of punishment. It did not take Dilandau long to notice an aspect of his lord's countenance that spoke of a reproof that was far worse than a beating. Before he could stop himself, Dilandau jerked his head away from Folken's gentle fingers and spat in his face. As he watched his saliva fly through the air, the youth wished desperately that he had thought things through before acting on impulse. He also wished that the spit would suddenly fall prey to an increase of gravity and drop harmlessly to the floor, but he did not see that happening.

Folken's first reaction to Dilandau's sudden jerk and spewing of saliva- shock. As much as the young man would argue and disobey orders, the dark lord would never have thought him one for crude actions such as spitting. Folken's second reaction- renewed rage. How dare that whippersnapper spit at the Commander and Lord of the Black Dragon Clan! Folken's third and final reaction- absolute bliss. With those two simple actions, Dilandau had shown exactly what would break him. The look of repulsion, spitting, and then fear proved the dark lord's realization. Folken could not keep himself from smiling the second time that night. This would be the most enjoyable torture session he had ever been in charge of. However, first thing first, Dilandau needed immediate punishment for the slobber stunt. This was given in the form an overly harsh backhand to the jaw that sent the boy into a wall in a crumbled heap.

"You couldn't just follow orders." Folken hissed as Dilandau suddenly flew across the room like a rag doll into the opposite wall.

"My Lord!"

"Silence, fool!" The Black Dragon sneered as the young lord was pressed firmly against the ceiling and then smashed into the floor.

"Please…Lord Folken!" Dilandau managed to say while coughing up blood. He wanted to rise. Whether it was to fight or flee, the youth did not know, but he knew he rather face the dark lord on his feet than be smashed on his belly. However, cruel to the fullest as always, his lord would not allow him to move on his own accord.

"I believe I ordered you to be silent." Folken remarked coolly as he glided over the floor to the silver haired man. With controlled force, he grabbed the trembling boy's hair and jerked him to his feet. "You wouldn't be in this situation if you would just obey my orders." The dark lord continued as he appraised his quarry. Bright red blood oozed from Dilandau's mouth like a crimson river flowing over white snow. Bruised lips parted into delicious arcs to expel enticing whimpers. His rose colored eyes were wide and full of panic, and his captivating silver hair shone like polished armor in the light. He was beautiful. Folken could easily see that. It almost felt wrong to besmirch such beauty with his soiled sorrow, but Folken dismissed such thoughts for Dilandau needed to be punished. "He does need to be punished…but this is wrong…I shouldn't..." The dark lord argued with himself. However, he silenced his own protestations with Dilandau's as he hushed those soft cries with his own lips. If possible, the youth's eyes widened further at the kiss.

"No! Stop! Beat me! Anything but this!" Dilandau's mind screamed as he grasped Folken's long silvery blue hair in hopes of pulling him off. His efforts, however, were futile and only caused Folken to kiss him with more zeal. And then it dawned on him. His sword! He had a sword! He could hit Folken with the sheathed blade and run for it. Yes! It had to work! While continuing to yank and pull with one hand, Dilandau lowered his right to obtain his saber. Unfortunately, Folken seemed to know the boy's plan, and just as Dilandau's fingers brushed the steel at his side, it was sent clattering to the floor.

When the ringing sound caused by the clash of metal against stone ceased, Folken pulled back. With a gentle thumb, he wiped away the remaining blood on Dilandau's mouth while he whispered, "I wouldn't advise doing that again." He smiled slightly at the boy's slight nod while a hand snaked its way down to the belt holding that flimsy tunic to Dilandau's armor. His smirk widened with the clank made by the collision of belt, tunic, and marble. "You need to learn who is master, Dilandau…and…unfortunately, it has come to this." The dragon continued as he peeled away the chest armor. His eyes flashed in approval at the sounds made by the articles hitting the floor. Next to join the clutter on the ground was Dilandau's undershirt in addition to his vambraces and pauldrons. With the youth half naked, Folken took another moment to admire him. His body was slim yet powerful. Flawless, alabaster skin covered a sculpted chest that met a chiseled abdomen. He was a porcelain Adonis. With one arm wrapped around the boy's slim waist and the other running down his smooth side, Folken descended on his little war god, covering his slender neck with little kisses and nips.

It felt good. Too good. And, that confused Dilandau. If this was supposed to be punishment, then why was Folken causing pleasure instead of pain. In fact, Dilandau almost moaned under the ministrations of Folken's surprisingly talented mouth, but he refused to encourage him. If the slayer was silent, then the dragon might lose interest. Dilandau mentally nodded at this decision while biting his lip to keep any sounds of pleasure at bay. However, his determination slowly diminished as his body came to life under those tender touches and that skilful mouth.

"What am I doing? I'm supposed to be the torturer, not some newfound lover." Folken growled at himself. However, his self-chastisement halted when the subtle vibrations created by that low growl produced a delightful shiver from the boy. The dragon could easily detect how much the Dragonslayer was enjoying this even as the boy fought to maintain an indifferent countenance. "Perhaps that is the key to breaking Dilandau…not through brutal rape but soft caresses…force him to surrender to himself. Yes. That is what I must do. It is so clear now." The dragon mused as he kissed the youth's neck once more. With a newfound determination to break the Dragonslayer, the Black Dragon followed a snowy path of gentle kisses down Dilandau's neck and across his collarbone. The youth's faint shivers of pleasure only fueled the dark lord's growing desire as he latched onto a pink nipple, sucking tenderly. Folken did not miss the nearly silent gasp that escaped the commander's tightly controlled countenance as he worried the nub with his teeth.

Yearning for a louder version of that silent cry, the dragon's hand that was not currently occupied with holding Dilandau still moved down the slayer's side to relieve him of the remainder of his clothes. However, he only went so far as to undo the zipper before, like the snake he was, his hand moved in to carefully knead the sensitive flesh. Folken could feel the boy tense under his tongue and fingers. Each time his tongue swirled over the hardened nipple or his thumb stroked Dilandau's weeping head; the proud slayer was that much closer to cracking.

"Fuck! I'm losing it! It feels too good. That tongue…Those fingers on my cock! Oh god! I can't keep my silence for long…and he knows it…sick bastard…he wants me to scream for the world…like a fucking whore…he wants to show the world how weak I am. Damn him! Gods damn him!" Dilandau mentally cursed while he moaned softly, his head swung back. It did feel good. So damn good. If Folken continued for much longer, Dilandau was sure he would be screaming like a bitch in heat. He moaned again when he felt his erection twitch for the umpteenth time in the dark lord's capable hands. He was so close…so close…so…it stopped. All contact, all sensation stopped. All that remained were his lord's lips a breath's width from his own.

"This is not for others to hear." Folken whispered softly as he zipped Dilandau back up. Then, with fluid movements too fast for the slayer's lust hazed mind to register, the dragon lifted him into his arms and moved toward the back of the throne room and the secret door that would take them to Folken's most private chambers. The tunnel they entered was dark and cramped. Even though he had never been afraid of the darkness, Dilandau felt an odd sense of safety in his lord's arms. This, like so many other aspects of their meeting, did not make sense. Not wanting to believe that he was enjoying his current situation, the slayer blamed the hormones produced by his aching arousal, which meant that he was not responsible and that Folken was to blame. However, he knew this to be a lie when he was placed on his lord's bed and, as if he naturally belonged there, spread his legs slightly like a lustful tart.

Dilandau watched with wild fascination as Folken slowly stripped himself before the youth without a hint of shame. Of course, the young commander was not unknown to the beauty of the male physique. He was, after all, the commander of several pretty boys and had had his share of them. However, even though their bodies did provide a means of pleasure and a new meaning for the word camaraderie, he never truly enjoyed it. They naturally gave themselves willingly to their commander and had done their best to please Dilandau, but the Dragonslayers' commander had been left dissatisfied. Perhaps what Folken offered was what the youth needed? He was tired of always being in control and responsible. Maybe, in order to become stronger, he needed to be taught a "lesson." "Besides…it could have been given by a worse partner." Dilandau mused as his eyes ran over his lord. Folken was not bad looking at all. In fact, he was quite the catch. Although his skin was pale from hours of meditation and paper work, it was not nearly as pale as Dilandau's, which suited the youth just fine. The long slivery blue locks flowed down the tall man's back, creating a brilliant wave of silk around him. Dilandau suddenly felt the urge to reach out and stroke Folken's mane but was distracted by the rest of his lord's form. The dragon was definitely bigger than the slayer in both height and muscle. His body rippled with strength while remaining somewhat slim unlike so many bulky masses of muscle in some of the squads of soldiers.

It did not take long for the Black Dragon to return to his slayer, which consisted of crawling on the bed to the spot right between the boy's legs to claim his lips. However, this time when his mouth sought out Dilandau's, he felt the youth return the kiss. This only spurred the dark lord on as he asked for access to that hot mouth with his tongue. Of course, it was granted. Folken did not waste time and was quickly met with the youth's tongue. They swirled around each other, adding fire to the kiss. Not satisfied with just kissing, the dark lord's hands soon found their way onto the alabaster body. The two rolled in the satin sheets, wanting to explore every part of each other. Dilandau met his lord kiss for kiss, nip for nip. He was caught in the hot trap of Folken's bed and he enjoyed every minute of it. When the dragon's gifted lips rediscovered the boy's hard nipples, the slayer grasped his lord's face and kissed him. It was not soft but it wasn't sluttish either. The kiss was merely a passionate meeting of two warriors in a battle. Their tongues collided, twisted and teased. Hands and hair meshed together until the dragon possessively pinned down his slayer's hands. Folken took all he could from that little mouth and was rewarded by a wonderful mewling noise against his. The boy was so wonderful and seemed to know every noise and motion to make to make his lord burn.

It was then that an idea formed in Folken's mind as his pulled away from the youth for air. "Consider this a mission, Dilandau." The Black Dragon started in an abnormally husky voice. "In order to succeed, you must obey my orders. Obey and you will be rewarded. Disobey and I will punish you severely. Do you understand?"

"Yes," the slayer replied quickly with a somewhat breathless voice.

"First, I want you to touch yourself. I wish to see what you like."

Dilandau tilted his head slightly and peered at Folken for a moment but quickly turned away when a light blush formed on his cheeks. He had never been seen by another before. He had always taken what he wanted from his slayers while their heads were pressed against a wall, bed, or something of that sort, which placed this particular order in a category beyond embarrassing. What if Folken did not like what he saw…

"Dilandau…"

The slayer nodded and slowly removed his boots and pants before he closed his eyes and exposed himself to his lord back on the bed. He thanked the gods that Folken did not snicker or make some comment. However, such silent prayers ceased as, if with a mind of their own, his hands moved over his body. One twisted, pulled, and rubbed the nipple that had been untouched by Folken while his other hand slowly moved lower, almost tentatively. He ran a thumb up his throbbing erection, eliciting a low moan. His thumb moved lower and back up once more before his entire hand engulfed his arousal, pumping in a steady rhythm. After what seemed to be mere moments, Dilandau found himself bucking into his hand in search of more friction while moaning allowed shamelessly. "I can moan…I just can't scream…" The youth's fuzzy mind reminded himself through the cloud of lust produced by his carnal display of pleasure and groans.

Folken watched his young officer intently. He noticed the arch of his back, toss of his head, and memorized every cry. He noted every part of his body that a hand lingered over. He watched in awe as this beautiful creature moaned for him. Yes. Dilandau was indeed beautiful. Nothing more could be said of him. However, nothing was more beautiful than the very moment that the boy reached release. Every worry, care, or line of anger disappeared as a look of pure bliss passed over his features. It was a perfect moment that Folken desperately craved to recreate, and that puzzled him. Why did he wish to bring out the beauty and perfection of Dilandau in such a way? To want to fuck him until he himself reached supreme ecstasy was one thing. To wish it on another was entirely odd. This baffled Folken greatly, but he quickly pushed such thoughts away. There was still a lesson to be taught.

"Good. You did very well. And, as I stated, you will receive a reward for good behavior." Folken did not allow the boy to question him. With steady hands, he seized Dilandau's now flaccid organ and leisurely swirled his thumb over the tip as he had seen the youth do. Once the boy was semi-erect, he lowered his head to run his tongue along the slayer's shaft.

Dilandau would have screamed if he had not promised himself that he would not. He had never allowed his slayers to do this to him for he had always been afraid of showing himself to them for fear of rejection. He now berated himself for such stupidity. When Folken took the youth's head into his mouth and lightly messaged his balls, Dilandau thought he would die. He arched his back as he moaned a litany of Folken's name when the dark lord engulfed him with his mouth. He felt like the dragon was trying to suck away his soul and Dilandau was more than willing to let him. In fact, he began thrusting into his lord's mouth to hurry the theft and cried out in frustration when Folken held him down. The slayer's blood was boiling with such intensity that he thought the dragon had set him on fire. He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream without restraint, but he still refused. He merely forced himself to continue his hymn consisting of only a chorus of the dark lord's name over and over again until all went white.

Folken had pulled back just before Dilandau's release and watched with smug fascination as the ropes of ecstasy spewed forth from the slim form. With a pleased look, he lay next to Dilandau to whisper into the panting boy's ear. "Dilandau, rise and walk over that desk. In it, you'll find a small red tube. Bring it to me."

The slayer nodded as he gradually stood on unsteady legs. With strained focus, he made his way to the said desk to find said tube. It was easy to find and he quickly returned to the bed and to Folken. Yes. He returned to Folken. Dilandau could not name it, but Folken educed something from the icy youth. He was not sure what it was but he desperately wanted to know…after Folken was done with the lesson.

"Good…" The dragon said with a hint of affection whilst taking the tube from the slayer. "Now, get on your hands and knees." Dilandau instantly obeyed, causing Folken to marvel at how nice it was to not have to argue with the boy. With a shake of his head, the dark lord returned to the matters at hand and opened the tube, emitting a spicy, exotic scent into the air. After administering a generous amount of the lubricant to his fingers, Folken slid toward Dilandau and leaned over the boy so he could whisper into his ear. "Relax…you will enjoy this. I promise." As soon as the youth nodded, the lord slowly thrusted a single finger into the boy's tight heat, bringing forth more of those lovely gasps. Folken moved his finger in and out of Dilandau's taut passage until he hit the boy's sweet spot and watched with immense enjoyment as the slim body rocked with pleasure, becoming hard once more. The dragon soon added a second and third finger, reveling in the display of obvious enjoyment on Dilandau's part until he was sure the youth was stretched enough to admit him. He removed his fingers and grasped the boy's slender hips. "Relax." The dragon reminded once more as he slowly penetrated his slayer. It was not until that moment that Folken realized exactly how aroused he was and had to use all of his control to keep from slamming into that beautiful ass.

Dilandau bit his lip as Folken entered him. It hurt. It hurt a lot. If it were not for his lord's gentle caresses and promises that it would feel wonderful, the slayer was quite sure he would have cried. However, such thoughts about tears quickly disappeared when Folken nudged that one pleasure node, sending a jolt of desire through his body. When his lord pulled back and then slowly reentered to hit that spot again, Dilandau could not hold back a loud groan. The slayer's groans continued in intensity and volume as one of the dragon's hands followed the curve of his body to his fully aroused erection.

Folken had wanted to go slow, be gentle. However, those moans of pure bliss and his own need stripped him of his reason as he plunged back into Dilandau. Both his tempo and ferocity increased as he slammed repeatedly into the boy while his hand stroked him. "So tight…so warm…so mine…mine!" The dark lord's mind screamed as he impaled Dilandau over and over. It wasn't long before his possessive thoughts became audible.

"Ah! Fuck yes! I'm yours! I'm so fucking yours, Folken! Oh gods!" Dilandau yelled in reply, obtaining a possessive growl in reply in addition to a sudden increase in the intensity in Folken's rhythm. The slayer groaned loudly, nearly screamed, as his lord's unwavering thrusts forced his face into the bed. In remembrance of his vow of silence, Dilandau clutched and bit into the sheets beneath him to muffle his uncontrollable outbursts created in the heat of the moment.

"Scream for me, Dilandau! Scream!" Folken ordered. He was so near to release, which he did not want to reach until he heard his slayer's scream. As if to coax a single scream from that delicious mouth, the dragon's hand around Dilandau's arousal increased its tempo to match Folken's, which did indeed create more lovely cries.

Dilandau could not take much more of this. It felt too good to hold back. "Fuck promises…Fuck decisions…He wants me to scream…He demands it…This is my new plan…New decision…New promise…I will scream for him…and him alone." The slayer forced himself to open his locked jaws, spit out the make shift gag, and screamed Folken's name. He screamed for his lord. Screamed for himself. Screamed. With that single scream of his lord's name, he came, causing his muscles to clamp down on Folken.

Like Dilandau, the scream had been absolutely breath taking. It was not high pitched like a whore's nor was it a guttural cry of a soldier on the battlefield. It was perfect, as if it was part of the youth's essence. It was yet another beautiful piece of the boy given to his lord.

With the sounding of that one scream, Folken's wings erupted from his back in an explosion of black feathers that flew about the two. Although the dark lord knew that the wings could enhance his power if used correctly, he would have never considered how much they could enhance emotion or feeling. The already elated sensations created by merely being inside Dilandau climbed to new heights. With the increased friction created by the slayer's climax in addition to the sharpening of calenture brought by the emergence of his wings, Folken knew he would break. The Black Dragon leaned forward with one final thrust to whisper more possessive words against his Dilandau's neck and came inside his slayer. He thanked the gods that he had the sense not to fall on top of the youth as he collapsed to the side. Dilandau's head was positioned just under Folken's chin and his legs curled around his lord in the fetal position with his wings wrapped around them both. "Perfect fit." The dark lord mused while pulling out of the boy. Folken smiled slightly, breathing in the smell of spices and sex in his slayer's hair. The boy was perfect…so perfect. He suddenly felt like a mushy teenage girl wanting to hold onto her sweetheart forever, but that could never be. If he held Dilandau to him forever, his sorrow would crush the youth's spirit. He had to let him go. With a decided nod, he moved away from his slayer and stood. "You may leave now."

"What?" Dilandau mumbled as his glazed eyes looked over at his lord. He was half-asleep and Folken could see that.

"I said you could leave." The dark lord repeated, his insides ripping apart at the sight of emotional pain flashing in the boy's eyes.

"Leave?" The slayer repeated, his eyes watering.

"Yes, the lesson is finished." Folken answered, feeling like the wretched beast he was suppose to be. He wanted to kick himself for causing such obvious pain. "But isn't that what you set out to do?" He reminded himself. "Yes…it was." He replied to himself and only wanted to kick himself harder for it. He had accomplished what he had wanted to do. He had broken the boy and he hated himself for it. How he wished that he could see Dilandau disobey once more to challenge Van, but he doubted he would see that happen.

"I will obey my lord." Dilandau replied in a laconic, chant-like reply while his eyes burned with a fury fueled by pain. With as much dignity and pride as he could muster, he rose and slid into his pants and boots. The boy then quickly departed from his lord's presence to reach the safety of his own chamber. There, in the quiet harmony of his room, Dilandau cried and punished himself for screaming for Folken. He had promised himself that he would not scream for him and he had. Folken had made a fool out of him. He felt broken and useless, and he doubted he would ever disobey again.

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Folken could sense the pain Dilandau's pain long into the night. His own body and blood ached with the poison of betrayal. He had betrayed the boy. That was obvious now. If only he had not been quick to react and had slowed down to truly think things through, he might have saved the youth from the hell he had created for him. "A hell made in the hollow of pain with flames of sorrow," the dark lord thought icily as he glared at the feathers raining from the wings that he had yet to retract. With a loud growl, the dragon rose, his fingers encircling the handle of his saber. He raised the blade over his head and behind his back. With two quick slashes, his wings fell. Pain and blood spread over his body as dropped to his knees. He savagely bit into his bottom lip, causing more blood to flow. He heard the clatter of his sword against the stone flooring but could not see. The black hand of pain clouded his vision and Folken fell further into a pool of blood and feathers. He was lost in the blackness of agony and wished to stay there. In that black hole, he was close to the slayer. He could feel the youth's fiery heart beat and see those rose eyes. They were so clear and so close. He could smell the tears dripping off of them, but it was fading. The eyes and the heartbeat were leaving him with the pain. His back was closing. The bleeding was slowing to a trickle. The punishing torment reduced to a dull throb. Folken cried out in anguish. Dilandau was gone forever. Even if he saw him tomorrow, he was still gone. He would never return. As a single tear fought its way to the Black Dragon's cheek, the dark lord found sanctuary beneath the sheets that still reeked of sex and the slayer. He closed his eyes and allowed numbing sleep to wash over him. In the morning, he would rise with a growing determination to destroy Geae. It will end. It must end. It must all end so his slayer's pain can end.

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Cyber Aya- "You truly are a sadist…"

VC- "Yeah…I guess so. Did you like it?"

Cyber Aya- "Your best work yet."

VC- "You think so? I think Unholy Union is better."

Cyber Aya- *random FF8 moment* RAGE *commences strangulation of VC with one of his cables*

VC- *calmly disconnects the cable in Cyber Aya's neck and breathes easily when his whole body goes limp and releases her* "Right…Yaoi, sign please."

F.F. Mole- *holds up a sign that reads "Thank you for reading! Please review!"*