𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉ℯ𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝓇ℯℯ

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Where am I?

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Where am I?

When he awakes, Dion feels disoriented. His hazy ruby eyes sweep across the unfamiliar room. He quickly notes he is not on his bed in his disgustingly lavish room inside the Agriche mansion. Instead he is inside what appears to be a small hunters hunt, if the bear pelt he is covered with is anything to go by and the other various demon furs that adorn the wooden unpainted walls.

Slowly it all comes back to him.

He remembers his father sending a maid to fetch him like a dog.

"Young master, your father wishes to see you in the great hall." The maid before him shakes in fear and stutters nervously.

Dion scowled at the unpleasant sight. Undoubtedly the maid was a new replacement for one of the many Jeremy had fed to the monsters just a few days prior to him returning home.

She's not going to last long in this place, she'll probably be turned into a puppet if she's this shakey just by talking to me.

He thought idly as he gave a signature nod of acknowledgment and strutted out of his room and towards the great hall where his father always sat upon his throne in wait with a cigar in his mouth like every stereotypical leader of a criminal organization.

I never get a break.

Blood red eyes trailed along the various family paintings he passed with a tired sigh.

Oh well, if it keeps me out of this disgusting place unworthy of being called my home I'll gladly take on any mission that bastard sends me off to do.

When he finally entered the great hall, Lant Agriche hadn't even offered a fathers concern of his sons well being. That was to be expected in the Agriche household though and Dion was no longer the little naive boy he had been all those years ago wishing for his fathers love or at the very least attention. At this age, Dion wanted nothing more than to get as far away from the sadistic family in major need of therapy. That is why Dion accepted all the meaningless missions his father sent him off to do without protest, the sooner he proved his loyalty the sooner he could leave.

He knelt before his father who smirked in satisfaction that he knew his place.

"My favorite child has returned. There is one more mission I must send you on if you are to prove your loyalty to this family." Lant Agriche crossed his legs and sat back with an air of mischief. "Bring me the heart of the black dragon."

His father is truly a madman.

"As you command, father." He said like the good little obedient dog he was raised to become.

Dion remembers entering the high leveled demon filled forest and ignoring the insane amount of warning signs that he had passed. If only he had paid more attention maybe he wouldn't have gotten swarmed by so many at one time. After getting overwhelmed and on the verge of passing out  he vaguely remembers a cold voice asking if he wished to die. Although he hated the life he was born into, Dion was not so easy to give up, the cursed Agriche blood that ran through his veins refused to die so pathetically and he had told them he wished to live.

Whoever the voice belonged to had been kind. They had saved him and Dion would not so easily admit it, but he was eager to see who had cared for him.

"How curious, you're awake a lot sooner than I thought you would be." Your sarcastic voice echoes throughout the room as you open the door, startling Dion from his thoughts.

You briefly wonder if he's resistant, to an extant, to poison.

Dion tries to get up but his body refuses to move an inch as searing pain rushes through his battered body. How had he not realized he was basically paralyzed? Perhaps you had done something to him as precaution if he had decided to attack you when he became conscious. If his thoughts were true, which they weren't, he had to give you some credit for not being naive.

"Yeah, I wouldn't do that if I were you." You throw in the logs you had went outside to collect into the fireplace and set them aflame with mesmerizing blue flames.

"Who are you? What have you done to me?" Dion bites out with a nasty glare that's meant to be intimidating but you just find the expression he makes funny.

"Your knight in shining armor. Someone had to save the damsel in distress after all." You simply reply with a teasing smile and a carefree shrug. "Now eat, if you have the energy to."

You pick up the bowl of soup, plop down on the chair next to the bed the stranger has been resting on for two straight days, and scoop up the healthy liquid and poke his lips with the metal spoon.

"I can feed myself—" Forgetting about his situation, he pauses when he remembers he can't feel nor move his arms or really anything for that matter.

Before he can start accusing you of something stupid, you give him a steady stare.

"You were poisoned by a lethal toxin from one of the monsters you fought a few days ago. Honestly, I'm surprised you're not only awake but also talking right now. Usually everything in the body is paralyzed even after proper treatment."

The ebony haired man still glares, staying quiet after your explanation seeming still suspicious of you.

You give a tired sigh at the mans stubbornness. It had been much easier to feed him while he was unconscious. You press your fingers into his bandaged thigh, causing him to wince in pain and you take the opportunity to force the spoon between his slightly parted lips with a proud grin at your brilliant plan of hurting your patient working. The black haired beauty only glares more as he reluctantly swallows the foul soup...

"It's good?" He mutters out loud caught off guard by the delicious taste that overwhelms his tastebuds.

"No shit." You roll your eyes with an amused smile, secretly pleased that the human liked your cooking since you've only made food for yourself. "Now eat more."

"Fine." Seeing that he is in bad condition and really shouldn't piss off the person taking the time to properly care for him, he finally caves and takes every bite you give him.

It's an odd thing, Dion notices. Being fed by another person and being cared for are two very odd things. When he was much younger no one, not even the gentle maids, would give him medicine and make sure he wouldn't die when he got sick from the poison he was forced to drink so that he could supposedly become immune to their effects over time. And yet you, a complete stranger who gained nothing from treating him, easily took care of him.

Although he was pissed you had agitated one of his wounds just to feed him he decided in this small moment that he wouldn't kill you just yet.

He wasn't in any condition to fight a dragon just yet.

𝒽ℯ𝒶𝓁ℯ𝓇𝓈 𝓉ℴ𝓊𝒸𝒽|| Dion Agriche x readerWhere stories live. Discover now