Burn Me - Trevor Belmont x Reader (NSFW)

Burn Me.

Oh, why did your messenger crows always have to be so disruptive? More times than not, it seemed they came to you at the worst of moments. Usually, they came when you were too busy or too exhausted to take any messages. The cause of the trouble was that ridiculously short time limit for when you could tend to them, for once the crow found you, a message could only stay there for a moment before it vanished. Such was the flaw of that pitiful animal magic spell. You needed a better way to get your information, preferably not by chatting with filthy birds. That, or you'd have to consider using that "do-not-disturb" enchantment that you kept in a book off to the side somewhere.

This time, the crow had flown in during your daily me-time, when being shut off from the world was your big priority but apparently wasn't a guarantee. You were bathing in the hot springs in a cave nearby your house, lounging peacefully in the steaming pool until you heard the echo of flapping wings bouncing off the cave walls. With a low groan, you opened your eyes and looked over your shoulder to be greeted by your bird, its feathers settling tightly against its slick body before hopping towards you. You turned around and faced it, resting your arms on the edge of the cold stone floor. Had the crow recognized facial expressions, it would've sheepishly backed away. "What now?"

The creature didn't move. Massive, black eyeballs only stared at you through a dullness. As brainless as the bird appeared, you knew by its trance that there was a magnitude of information stored behind those eyes. In fact, its bizarre indifference was stirring up your interest. With a look of curiosity, you slowly brought your index finger to the crow's forehead, gently resting it upon the smooth, silken space between its eyes.

You began to extract. The message was long, but it was as clear as crystal. By the end of it, your face had turned to that of a woman who stumbled upon a bag of diamonds.

"Impossible."

Once the message ended, you didn't take your time getting out of the water. Not much time was taken to dry off before putting on your robe, either. With your nerves getting strummed like harp strings, you simply couldn't stand to waste a second.

"Yes," you murmured. "I will tell him."

~ooo~

The flames of your hearth were but teeny flickers when you started it for the conjuring. Now, the fire had swollen so great that it had grown a bit too close for comfort. Fearing for the hem of your dress, you had even taken a step back until the blaze began to settle. You had shielded your eyes as to protect yourself from a wild red cinder flying out of the hearth, and when you lowered your hand, you saw the flames warping into wicked shapes and shades that hardly resembled a fire so much as it did something even more sinister.

A face. One that looked as if he desired to watch the world burn. Nevertheless, it was a face you couldn't have been any more pleased to see. Putting on your most delighted smirk, you bowed your head and curtsied for the fiery figure. "My lord."

Red flickers resembling brows were scrunching in contempt. The dark, booming voice reflected it. "Witch," he billowed. "What purpose have you to disturb me?"

Even in the light of this aggression, you didn't quiver. Pride was swelling in your heart too much for you to care, for you were certain that your next words would bring you some benefit. Maybe. "I've received news from the city of Gresit," you stated aloud, almost singing.

To your dismay, the expression didn't improve any. Instead of softening as you hoped, the whole face drooped, including the eyelids. "And I as well."

You frowned. Your pride instantly shattered like glass. Your heart felt like it was deflating and sinking to the pit of your stomach. Oh, heavens, what a useless and bothersome woman you probably were right now. What an embarrassment. He received the news already? Good God, it had only been the morning after those events unfolded and... No. He couldn't have heard. Though you certainly couldn't call yourself a woman of faith, you were silently praying to God that whatever reached your lord's ears—if it were the same information—was not from any of your fellow coven members. Trying not to look too astonished or upset, you placed a hand to your chest. "Oh. My lord," you responded. "What news, might I ask, have you heard? Perhaps the information I've received is... a bit different?"