Breakdown One Shots

Stay Interesting

(Bell is an Artificer/Alchemist. Sadly, thanks to the laws of King Abremor, magic is not only illegal, but punishable by death. The king's son Percy, however, has a slightly more favorable view... but not necessarily a good one.)

August, 23rd

Bell felt the weight of his looming death dawn upon him. His feet couldn't touch the ground as two large armed guards carried him through the castle. He'd spoken up a few times, noting that he possessed legs but the guards didn't respond.

Personally, Bell found the no magic rule to be quite obsurd really. He always believed that the rule was more of a "not infront of the children" thing than a "you will be murdered" one. Clearly, he was wrong.

Of course it had been the black smoke coming from his gauntlet prototype that had given him away. The stupid bloody thing never worked right. Yet of course it was now, in this moment, as he passed a nearby torch, that he wondered if using light to power it would be more precise than water. Not that it would matter anyway.

He was quite literally knocked from his thoughts as he was thrown into the stone floor of a VERY large room. He looked up. Not a window in sight, but the room itself was adorned with different colors of red and gold. A large rug stretched from where he'd been thrown, a golden throne on the other side of the room.

An older woman nearby was sweeping up the pieces of a broken vase. Bell got the chills. The sound of the two giant doors slamming behind him didn't help.

The room went silent except for the gentle brushing of broom thistles against stone. Then Bell saw a shadow move in front of him.

Somehow, though he hadn't noticed before, the shadows blanketing the throne at the front of the room concealed a person upon it's seat. The figure was young, beautiful, resting their cheek upon their hand held up by their elbow pushing into the right arm of the throne. One leg was thrown over the left arm and the other rested on the floor. This did NOT look like the king.

If only Bell had been good with curses rather than metal work.

"Come."

Bell found his way slowly to his feet. He was no meager man, he had enough muscle on his bones, or at least in proportion to his average height. He wouldn't falter, and he would not "come" like a wounded dog. He stood his ground.

"I said come or I shall remove your head with a spike."

Bell began to slowly walk towards the throne. Don't fault the poor man, he is, after all, within an inch of his life at the moment.

He was tentative, concerned. He wasn't quite sure WHO this was exactly. He had heard enough terrifying tales of what happened to magic users.

Bell stopped a few feet away, but the figure beckoned him closer with a finger. It was only when his thighs were within an inch of the raised throne, that the man in the chair motioned for him to kneel. Bell bit his tongue, but did so without protest.

Bell's eyes caressed the fair features of a man about his age. Their hair looked soft, a stark black in opposition to Bell's white. Fluffy and short vs Bell's that was long enough to pull up in a short tail. Even more noticable, his eyes were grey, sharp and just a little terrifying.

"What are you?"

"Belmont Vaske. A man, last I checked." Bell mentally scolded himself for the remark.

"I have reason to believe you are a witch."

Bell froze, although it was obvious that was why he was there.

"Then I am afraid to dissapoint...." he trailed off.

"Percival... the crown prince..."

Fuck.

The man leaned over, throwing his other leg off the arm so he could bend down to Bell's current height. Bell resisted the urge to pull away in disgust and fear.

"Don't lie to me" he said in a voice almost soft. Yet somehow, somewhere deep down inside, Bell knew it wasn't. He didn't reply.

"Come now. No response? If I were to find you guilty than you would be killed right now. At least beg or something" they laughed.

"Wouldn't matter what I said or if I was a witch. The crown would have me murdered either way. Can't exactly go around saying they were wrong now can they-" Bell's hand flew over his mouth and he bit down hard enough on his tongue that he could taste his own blood.

Me and my big fucking mouth.

Percival threw back his head and let out another wicked laugh. A real, genuine kind of expression stretched across his features. Amusement perhaps.

"Oh my my my. You do have a way with words don't you, witch."

"Not a witch." This time Bell's other hand also attempted to close his mouth since one hand CLEARLY wasn't enough. He bit down again, this time harder and he knew he'd be feeling that for a while if he wasn't brutally murdered in the next few minutes.

He wasn't though, a witch. He was an Artificer, and an Alchemist. Witches were agressive healers and plant fuckers. Those bastards had him boot from the magic community, believing Alchemists and Artificers weren't magic ENOUGH. it made his blood boil to think about. If it's magic enough to get his head cut off than by hell was it good enough to be in the community-

The Prince leaned closer to Bell and carefully took each hand by the wrist, pulling them off his face. They didn't mind looking Bell right into his red eyes. The same red eyes no one looked into in fear of what they do not understand.

There was a moment of silence.

"If you are so sure that I am a mage, than why am I not dead already? Why give me motive and opportunity to kill you?" Bell asked.

The Prince didn't answer for a moment. He let go of Bell's hands and put one graceful hand beneath their chin. His face grew close and before Bell could think, the crown prince deeply attached his lips to Bell's.

Bell tried to pull away, but the prince's fingers dug into the skin of his cheeks as he forced his tongue into Bell's mouth and swirled it around the bleeding cut where Bell had bitten himself.

It was after he slid his tongue across Bell's sharpened teeth that the prince finally let go. It was as if both boys realized at that same moment that Bell could have sliced their tongue off right then and there.

Bell pulled back so viciously that he hit the floor. His own tongue ceased to feel comfortable in his mouth as he watched the prince stand and stretch his arms. Bell wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve but that wouldn't get rid of the buzz, or the taste.

"You're interesting Belmont. I'd hate to throw something like that away" the prince continued as if nothing had just happened. Belmont squinted hard.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?!" Bell violently and loudly screamed, forgetting his place once more. "You a fuckin vampire!?"

The Prince didn't seem bothered by Bell.

"If you continue the way you are, you won't survive."

"The fuck does that mean!?"

"There's only one way for you to survive now that you've ousted yourself." There was a pause and the prince stepped closer once more. Belmont was sitting up now and starting to pull back. The Prince clearly enjoyed the difference in their statue: standing and kneeling.

The Prince bent down to his height again, and Bell turned his head and closed his eyes in fear. Then the prince took his arm. When Bell opened his eyes he could see that his own hand was glowing with violent purple crackles of electricity. A defense mechanism in response to the prince's presence. It had been a ploy.

Bell looked at the man, not a prince, but a sadistic asshole. He became very aware as the lightning faded from his grasp, that they had him cornered.

"There's only one way for you to survive." He had said.

"And what's that?"

The Prince let go of Bell's hands and dragged the very tip of his nail from Bell's adams apple to the edge of his chin.

"Stay interesting."