TYND 13

TL: Motokare

The emperor had always said to Theon:

“Seará’s always watching over us. That’s why you were bestowed the power to resist Maton’s offsprings. Whether it’s to Lord Yolone, to you, or to the Black Lion Knights… The strength to stand against Maton’s offsprings is proof that Seará’s looking over us.”

Theon, though sceptical of faith, had sometimes wavered at those words. Especially over the past six years, watching Yolone Sirin’s brilliance on the battlefield, he’d thought Yolone was a hero sent by Seará.  

But the truth had been far grimmer. 

Yolone Sirin wasn’t a hero; he was a monster. His human experiments, as vile as Faye’s, had been the reason the Allied Forces were able to triumph in the Human-Demon War.

If Seará was watching, how could such an atrocity masquerade as heroism? 

No, Seará wasn’t watching over Araxys. The gods had created countless worlds; they must’ve turned their attention elsewhere. Therefore, prayers were pointless; they’d never reach Seará. If anything, they might find Maton, the god who hungered for Araxys.  

If a god truly existed, wouldn’t they’ve heard the desperate pleas of those sacrificed children?

“Listen, I don’t want to go to PLEIN…… I promise I’ll be quiet and good…… I want to stay with Theon……”

The voice continued to echo in Theon’s ears.

“But I can’t, right……? I can’t, can I……?”

It swelled like a memory that refused to fade, growing louder in his mind until it became a scream. 

It was strange. He was a man hardened by war, unmoved by the cries of the dying. So why was this child’s plea so impossible to ignore? With a measured breath, Theon opened his eyes and set the idol back on the altar. Moonlight softened its carved contours, lending it an almost ethereal glow.  

Has that child ever prayed before?

He wasn’t sure why the thought crossed his mind when he wasn’t even a believer. People often said that prayer brought peace, and if there was one thing Rothy needed, it was peace. Theon had more than enough justification to take him to the North immediately. But justification alone wouldn’t keep Rothy there for long. Sooner or later, he would’ve to be ‘returned’^[1] to PLEIN.  

If there’s truly a god out there—

Theon looked at the idol, bathed in moonlight. 

I hope you grant that child’s wish.

Despite knowing no god would hear him, Theon still prayed, the instinct as one of Seará’s creations buried too deep to ignore. 

“Theon.”

A soft, almost teasing whisper tickled his ear.

“Theooon…”

The voice stretched his name, intimate, playful, almost like a coaxing purr. He was puzzled. There was no one left in this world who’d call his name so intimately and affectionately. 

Who was it? 

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was snow-white hair, scattered before him like freshly fallen snow. Then came eyes green as summer leaves, flushed cheeks, and lips full and inviting.   

The stranger looked to be in his early twenties, someone he couldn’t place. But something in the young man’s features held his gaze with an unplaceable familiarity. When their eyes met, the young man smiled at him as if he’d received a joyful gift. 

A large hand moved on its own, cupping the young man’s cheek.  

“Haaa……”

The young man sighed breathily, nuzzling into the touch. His lashes fluttered, his green eyes sliding shut, wet and glistening. That was when Theon noticed the heat pooling low in his belly—the realisation that they were both naked and tangled up in white sheets. He was on top, his swollen c0ck was already buried deep inside the young man’s tight—almost constricting—burning heat.

The young man whimpered, “Hnnngh,” his head turning instinctively, but his hand was quick to clamp down on the back of his neck, holding him in place. Even that small movement was denied. His consciousness began to blur as his hips snapped forward, driving himself deeper into that tight heat.

“Ngh…..”.

It was a m0an edged with pain, but Theon ignored it, knowing it wasn’t only that, and kept driving his hips forward. He moved slowly at first but soon his movements turned rougher and greedier. The wet slap of skin against skin—thwack, thwack—filled the room, every thrust driving the air thick with heat and sweat.

Beneath him, the younger man squirmed, his head tossing side to side, fingers clawing at the sheets in desperation. But Theon didn’t let up. Without breaking his rhythm, he grabbed the young man’s wrists and hauled them up, wrapping them securely around his neck.

“Ah, ugh… hnngh. Theon, slow down… ah!”

His eyes locked on the young man writhing in ecstasy beneath him, trying to commit every tremble and gasp to memory. The air grew heavier, thick with sweat and the obscene sounds of their bodies colliding, both drenched and slick with the evidence of how many times they’d already cum. And beneath his large, imposing frame, the young man could do nothing but shake pitifully.

Unable to resist, he pressed his lips to the younger man’s, who couldn’t even properly utter the two syllables ‘slow-ly’. When their mouths met, the young man opened immediately, inviting him in as if this was exactly where he belonged. Theon kissed him deeply, their t0ngues tangling in a messy, desperate rhythm.

At first, the young man kissed him back just as eagerly. But as his breath caught, his weak hands pushed at Theon’s chest and shoulders. Theon barely relented, pulling back only enough to let him suck in a ragged breath before slamming in harder. His movements became merciless, his thrusts rocking the younger man’s body with a force that left him dazed, barely clinging to the edge of awareness.

Mine.

The thought thundered through Theon’s head, loud and primal, as he watched the young man’s flushed cheeks and felt the feverish heat of his breath against his skin. The pleading, broken sounds spilling from his throat stirred something deep in him. 

My mate.

The certainty hit like a jolt, only for clarity to follow a moment later.  

This is a dream.

He remembered now—he’d fallen asleep in his room after visiting the chapel last night. And so, this fevered encounter wasn’t real—it was just a dream. A strange one at that, for Theon had always lived a life of strict discipline. Even during the chaos of war, such dreams had never haunted him.

“Theon… Theon.”

The young man gasped his name, clinging to Theon as if he were the only solid thing left in the world. His breath came in short, frantic bursts when Theon stilled for just a moment.  

“Why’re you so impatient tonight…?”

Theon’s eyes dropped to meet the younger man’s green eyes—vivid as emeralds—brimming with adoration. Even amid their raw coupling, they glowed with trust and unshakeable love, as if he was ready to accept anything Theon did to him. 

“……”

Without a word, Theon in the dream leaned closer, whispering something against the younger man’s ear. The words were muffled, blurred by the surreal haze of the dream, but they must’ve been sweet, because the man’s lips curved into a radiant, flower-like smile.  

Slam, slam!

And then Theon fvcked him harder, his thrusts brutal and deep. Each deep stroke made the young man’s stomach swell with the bulge of his c0ck. 

“Ahn! A-ah!”

The younger man’s arms locked around Theon’s neck, his whole body trembling, driven to the edge. Theon held him close, their bodies flush as he continued to piston into him, hard and fast. It felt as though sparks were flying out of his eyes, the intensity burning through him. Though he knew it was just a dream, the scorching pleasure swallowed him whole, setting his veins on fire, so vivid it almost felt real.

The salty, pungent scent of cum filled his nose, making his head spin, threatening to pull him into oblivion. His breath came in harsh, ragged gasps, and the younger man beneath him was crumbling, his chest heaving, his lungs fighting to keep up.

The pale stretch of the younger man’s stomach was a mess, splattered with the creamy streaks of his release. Theon’s fingers itched to touch it, to smear the sticky warmth across his skin, but he was too lost in the delicious heat of the man’s body to stop. 

Why such a dream…?

Theon couldn’t believe it—not just the dream itself, but that it was with another man. 

Is this my real inclination?

The thought startled him. He’d never imagined himself like this, let alone with someone so impossibly beautiful. If this was truly his preference, it was a cruel twist of fate—no one in reality could match the dream’s perfection.  

And yet, why did the face feel so familiar? 

Theon’s hand moved. He lifted a few strands of the young man’s rippling snow-white hair, pressing a kiss to its silken texture. The young man smiled in return, his eyes flushed red as he shook violently. 

“Do you, ahn…  like me that much?”

“……”

“Hnngh, you… I like you too, Theon. I love you…”

The curve of his lips, the shape of his eyes, his gestures, his tone, and even the dimples that deepened when he smiled… everything about him was seared into Theon’s mind. And then, it hit him.

He looks like—

The white hair. The emerald eyes. The captivating dimples that appeared when he smiled. Who was he? Why was he so familiar?

“……!”

Theon’s eyes flew open, a harsh gasp tearing from his throat. He found himself sitting upright in his bed, his entire body drenched in sweat. The familiar darkness of the Chloé Palace’s bedroom surrounded him, moonlight barely spilling in through the curtained windows. His entire body was tense, muscles coiled as if he were still deep in that fevered dream. Theon ran a hand through his hair, recalling the face from his dream. 

No way.

Could that young man really be—…

Two days had passed since they began searching the mage tower, but they still hadn’t found anything. The morale of the knights had plummeted in the intervening time.

“Does that secret chamber even exist?”

“No clues, no leads—this is maddening. Maybe I should’ve joined the weasel hunting party instead.”

“Yeah, at least hunting weasels is fun.”

“Not to mention they’re also cute.”

“It’s good training, trying to catch one without hurting it.”

The knights tapped the magic tower walls and touched pillars while exchanging idle chatter. 

“We’re barely detecting any trace of magic, Captain.”

“Given how most tower mages operate, he likely built it underground. Focus your search on the lower levels.”

“Understood.”

PLEIN mages were also mixed among the knights. Harrié chewed his lips anxiously. Even with advanced detection spells at their disposal, the secret chamber remained elusive. There had to be a space filled with research tools and experimental equipment somewhere. How could magical energy be this undetectable? It was a testament to Yolone Sirin’s unparalleled abilities. 

He scowled at the cold, unyielding walls, as though sheer willpower might force them to reveal their secrets. Eventually, Harrié shifted his attention to the tall, brooding man standing nearby, who seemed equally absorbed in the sight of the tower.

“The sun’s already high in the sky. Isn’t it about time you prepare to leave?”

The Black Lion Knights were scheduled to leave that afternoon. To Harrié, the knights were a thorn in his side, but as much as he resented their presence, finding the lab before they left would be ideal.  

“……”

Theon didn’t respond, he simply frowned even deeper. For some reason, he’d been like that since morning. More reticent than usual, he seemed distracted as if his mind were elsewhere.