Varys stood slowly—almost casually, despite the crimson fire dancing in his eyes. With every step toward Aurean... shadows seemed to shift in the edges of the library... or beyond glass windows where night still breathed like a living thing.
Then he was standing inches away—so close Aurean could have reached up and touched the Demon Lord's gaunt cheeks—but he didn't dare.
**"Close your eyes,"** Varys whispered, voice so low it sent fire through Aurean's spine.
He did.
He closed his eyes...
...and found himself suddenly surrounded in darkness.
No—not darkness.
*Darkness given form.*
Aurean held his breath.
He couldn't see where they were, or where they were going. Not with his eyes, but deeper than that. Some part of him felt it… every step as he walked slowly, blindly... holding his breath each time he heard claws scraping stone that drew too close.
Then, all at once… a wall.
Varys' chest.
Hard. Cold. Real.
...Varys' fingers closed around Aurean's wrist—tight, but not painful.
**"Don't speak."**
His voice was barely a breath against Aurean's ear, yet it sent a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with fear.
They stood pressed against the cold stone wall of a hidden alcove—one Aurean hadn't seen before, tucked behind a shifting bookshelf that now sealed shut with silent finality. Outside, the library groaned as if something heavy dragged across its floor.
*Thud.*
*Scrape… scrape…*
Closer.
Varys pulled Aurean tighter into the shadow—until there was no space left between them. His body burned now, even through layers of cloth and ancient robes—like embers buried beneath ice finally breaking free.
Aurean dared not move.
Not when he could feel each controlled breath Varys took.
Not when every pulse in his own neck echoed against the Demon Lord's collarbone where their bodies touched.
And then—
A whisper so soft it might have been imagination:
**"If it finds you… don't scream."**
A pause.
***"For your sake… I may not be able to stop myself."***
Outside—
The scraping stops.
Silence.
Too quiet.
Then—a wet huff of air on glass... like something pressing its face *against* the windowpane from outside…
And breathing in their names...
But inside?
Trapped in darkness and closeness neither asked for?
Something shifts…
Because right here…
Right now…
With death watching just beyond walls made for gods…
All Aurean can think is—
*I don't want him to let go.*
The wet huff of breath against glass faded—slowly… reluctantly.
Then silence. Deep and full. As if the thing outside had moved on… for now.
Aurean didn't move.
Couldn't.
Varys was still holding him—close, tight, like he might vanish into smoke if let go too soon. And though the Demon Lord's body burned hotter now, his breathing had gone dangerously even… controlled. Like a beast taming its own fangs before it turns from prey.
Seconds stretched.
Then minutes.
No one spoke.
Until—
"You're trembling," Varys murmured—the voice rougher than before, layered with something Aurean didn't recognize at first…
Worry?
Guilt?
*Need?*
"It's not fear," Aurean lied—voice barely above a whisper—and finally opened his eyes in the dark alcove lit only by faint red glow seeping through cracks in stone: eclipse light staining their skin like blood promises unspoken—
"I just hate not seeing what wants to kill me."
Varys studied him—a slow tilt of his head, those sapphire-crimson eyes catching every flicker of defiance across Aurean's face…
Then without warning—he reached up with one claw-tipped finger and brushed it gently down the side of Aurean's cheek—from temple to jaw—so light it almost felt human…
**"The worst things,"** he whispered darkly,** "never let you see them coming."**
And then—
His gaze dropped—to Aurean's lips—
Just for half a heartbeat too long...
But long enough to make time stop between breaths...
Every breath burned, each moment in that silence more dangerous than anything lurking beyond the darkness... because in the shadow of an onyx bookshelf, between broken red light and shattered glass windows, Aurean could feel every breath of heat against his face.
It was him, or the Demon Lord.
But which?
When he finally spoke… his voice caught—hoarse, trembling... desperate—
"If I asked you something right now-"
But he didn't get the chance to finish, because:
"Ask," Varys whispered.
Aurean's pulse raced—
"Do you..."
He hesitated—but his own heartbeat was louder than any unspoken question.
"Do you… feel it too?"
Varys didn't move.
Didn't look away.
But neither did Aurean. Not when the Demon Lord's body burned like a furnace—not when it took every ounce of courage left in him to reach out—
And lay a trembling hand against Varys' gaunt cheek.
It was softer than he expected.
And *so cold.*
...and then—
A crack of thunder split the sky.
Not from above.
From *within* the palace.
The red moonlight flared—sudden, violent—as if something ancient had just woken up in its bones.
Varys' eyes snapped open—no longer sapphire or even crimson…
Now they burned black at the center, ringed with fire like twin eclipses devouring themselves. His breath turned jagged, sharp—a low growl building deep in his chest as he shoved Aurean back against the wall with terrifying speed…
But not roughly.
Protectively.
**"Don't move."**
His voice wasn't his own anymore. It was layered—deeper, broken by echoes that didn't belong to this world.
***"It felt us."***
Outside the hidden alcove, glass shattered somewhere down a hall.
Then another scream of stone splitting.
And laughter—wet and guttural—twisting through cracks in reality itself:
*"Maaarrrrieee… miiiine…"*
Aurean's heart stopped. That word… that *voice*… it slithered through him like poison made of memories he'd never lived.
Varys pressed a hand flat against the wall beside Aurean's head—the shadow-cloaked fingers trembling slightly despite their strength—and whispered one last thing before darkness swallowed everything again:
**"I don't know how much longer I can keep pretending I don't want you..."**
*(a pause)*
**"...or if it's already too late to stop what's coming."**
Then—he vanished into smoke and shadow—
Leaving Aurean alone once more...
With only three words echoing louder than fear:
*I almost kissed him.*