You free this friday?

sukuna's heart drops as he registers the text message on his screen. he swings his gaze left to right, from satoru to suguru. both of them having an animated conversation about yesterday's darty and, thankfully, too immersed in it to notice his change in demeanor.

quickly, he lowers the brightness on his phone and lets himself read the message again for good measure.

You free this friday?

he lets each word massage through the gummy recesses of his brain. you wanna know if he's free this friday? he's not sure if he is, but he definitely can be. chi omega was throwing a st. patrick's day thing, but he could miss that. st. patrick's day came every year, guaranteed.

you, on the other hand, were not so certain. not since the night you met. sukuna first saw you tucked under the sultry shadows of a semi-crowded bar. it was the night of geto's twenty first birthday bar hopping marathon, and he'd made the mistake of showing up to the wrong bar. party flyers were so confusing sometimes.

unaware of that, though, he claimed the only open seat, the one next to you. you were too busy downing the last of your rum and coke to stop him.

after practically slamming your now finished glass against the counter, you politely ushered the bartender over for another.

sukuna looked at you for way too long. wondering if you went to the same school as him, or what your major was. if you were in a sorority, or if perhaps you already graduated. he couldn't quite tell just by looking at you.

the dress you wore was a striking shade of blue. flowy, and prone to get squished up between the peaks of your thighs as you crossed and uncrossed your legs.

stray ribbons of moonlight shone in from the outside, illuminating your face's pretty features. lips full and wet with remnants of your drink. eyes framed by doll-like lashes, looking down at your refilled glass as if it held the answers to all your questions.

sukuna didn't realize he was staring until your eyes cut to him—a little relaxed from inebriation, but still pointed and direct. never one to back down from any challenge, he gave you another once over before saying, “that's a nice dress you're wearing,”

“thanks,” the corner of your mouth twitched in what was almost a smile. “it's my husband's favorite color.”

his eyes shot down to your left hand, now cradling a refilled glass, and spotted a solitary wedding band encasing your ring finger. you were married? sure, he figured you were a bit older than him, but married older?

“your husband let you go to bars by yourself?”

“he don't let me do anything. i do what i want.”

the fierceness coloring your tone sent a furious blush through his neck and shoulders. never mind the way his dick twitched beneath his jeans.

“and right here? that's where you wanna be?”

“why wouldn't it be?”

“i just figure… a woman like you should be—”

“—should be what?”

“cherished, taken care of. not drowning your sorrows in some shady ass bar.”

at that, you turned to face him fully. your eyes, relieved of their once cynical glare, took on a more curious one. you were looking at sukuna the way you had looked at your glass.

“oh, really?” he answered you with only a calm, mhm. you took a moment to decipher the faded greek lettering on his t-shirt. “you learned that from sig chi?”

“somethin’ or the other,” he breathed. “i'm sukuna.”

your fingers twitched, and he could see now that your nails were painted that same shade of blue as your dress. your toes as well, one semi-guilty glance toward your feet told him. you must've really loved your husband. or hated him, depending on what you were about to do.

“i'm…” your eyes met his for only half of a moment before they coursed a fiery trail down the rest of his body. “married. i shouldn't even be talkin’ to you.”

he leaned in close, so close he could nearly taste the rum and coke on your tongue. “c'mon,” so close your knees were brushing up against one another. rough denim against bare skin. so close that he could feel it in his bones when you inched backward to squeeze your thighs together. “what's the harm in a name?”

sukuna learned your name, as well as just how much you hated your husband later that night in the backseat of your subaru. you had no qualms with him bunching your dress over your hips as he plowed into you from below. from the tip to the hilt, over and over again until you painted his dick a pretty shade of white.

when he grunted, “‘m gonna cum,” into your ear, you wasted no time positioning yourself at his feet. you took him into your mouth with a such a keen passion it was coming out of your eyes in the form of stringy tears. when he came, you let thick ribbons of his release dribble out on to your fingers. despite you being the one on your knees, sukuna felt like he was submitting as you pushed those same fingers past his lips and commanded him to, “lick it up”.

after you were done feeding a grown man his own cum, you ventured to fix your hair in the passenger's seat visor.

“um,” sukuna mumbled, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. mainly because the taste of himself on his own tongue was so foreign, more pleasant than he would have assumed. “can i have your number?”

you paused fixing your hair, brows furrowing in deep thought. “sure,” you said after only a moment. “phone's in my purse.”

while going to retrieve your phone that, surprisingly, had no password, he couldn't help but take a peek at the things next to it. a ripped open envelope with your name written across the front, and beside that, a card. on it was blue, cursive lettering that read, happy anniversary.

since then, even with your phone number, you were a tricky woman to get ahold of. unlike the girls at school that were usually only a few texts away from ending up in his bed the same night. you were fickle. he could text you and not receive a response for the next twenty four hours. two if he was lucky.

but he didn't mind. not when the sex was so good he found himself eating you out of whatever clothes you happened to be wearing at the given moment. not when you felt so good around him, squeaking out little whimpers of you're so big and provocative commands of put me by the mirror.

drawing him from his reverie is his phone buzzing in his hand once more.

Answer before I change my mind

and what else is he to do?

yeah, wsp

sukuna arrived just as you instructed him to. ten-thirty, parked four houses down.

when you open the door, he takes a moment to look at you. you're nursing a half full glass of wine and fidgeting with the belt on your silk robe like you're itching to take it off. cheeks full with the smile blooming across your face, brows relaxed under the weight of inebriation.

even so, sukuna can still see the way your eyes stick to him like a second skin. crawling over the tattoos on his right arm, then his left, and then the ones around his neck.

your time is spent like that for handful of moments, eye-fucking each other nearly to the point of a climax. until you pull the door open wider and say, “well, come on in. i'd hate for you to freeze.”

“says the one with barely any clothes on.”

playfully, you swivel the liquid around in the grass while closing the door behind him. “liquid blanket,” you laugh.

as he passes through the shadowy tunnel of your foyer, he spots of picture hung up of you on your wedding day. the lack of light makes it so that he's only able to see your face, leaving your husband a tall blur beside you.

it's almost comical how little sukuna knows about your husband. he often got the feeling that he was only supposed to know that such a man existed, and had committed the near criminal offense of leaving his beautiful wife lonely and dissatisfied.

“new curtains?” he questioned, noticing that your living room windows were now covered in pale, barely-there pink curtains. a stark contrast to the cool toned blue that was just there a fortnight prior.

“yeah,” you chirped. “i'm changing up the living room bit by bit. figure that way the old man won't say anything.” you're standing before him, gaze swinging back and forth between the curtains and his face. “what do you think, though? is it too girlish?”

your living room is a perfect image of opulent suburbia. your couch is a sterile white shade with blue and grey pillows dotting it in the most uniform way. a glass top coffee table with a couple of miscellaneous books stacked in the left corner. in the center of it is a vase of slowly decaying flowers. the rug is also white, though a chalkier shade. across from that, the large fireplace sat just under an even larger portrait of you.

still, it's all so…fake. sure, the price of the couch alone could probably pay his tuition two times, and your husband probably paid some boujee ass artist a fuck ton to have that portrait of your face made. but none of it feels lived in. there's no dents in the couch, no shoes slid off into the corner of the rug, no warmth in the fireplace.

it's clear you long for some color in your otherwise cookie cutter life. that's why you sought him out at the bar that night, whether you were intending to or not. with your pretty blue dress and your bubbly demeanor that perfectly concealed the ache harboring within you.

sukuna blurts, “nah,” before he even has time for further consideration. the corners of your eyes crinkle as you beam up at him. his heart stutters on a beat. “and if you need help bringing in a new couch, i'm your guy.”

your eyebrows perk up in understanding as you polish off your glass of wine. the diamonds on your left ring finger catch in the light and nearly burst one of the capillaries in his eyes.

the pair of you stare at each other for a little while longer. prolonged foreplay? delay of the inevitable? sukuna isn't too certain. he just likes that he can see your nipples hardening beneath the silk of your robe, and his hunger is climbing by the second.

finally, your voice pierces the silence. “wanna see how i'm doing the office?”

a short time later, sukuna can't remember if you said wanna see how i'm doing the office or wanna do me in the office. he seems to be doing a stellar job at both, if he does say so himself.

“missed you so much,” the words slip out of his mouth like drool as he bottoms out for the first time that evening. he doesn't mean to come off so desperate, but he just can't help it when he's buried inside you. the velvety walls of your pussy suck him in like a vice grip. so much so that his first couple strokes are messy, and the slightest bit hesitant. it's a torturous inching that he has to employ to keep himself from spilling inside you prematurely. “you been good for me?”

he's got you bent over your husband's desk after you unceremoniously swiped a handsome assortment of books and papers off the varnished wood surface. you hiccup over a, “yes,” as you try to keep your nails from clawing over the desk.

“yes, what?” he slides the length of himself out, until only his tip is sunk within you

you release your bottom lip from the confines of your teeth to squeal out a pathetically saccharine, “yes, daddy!”

that word out of your mouth has something primal trying to claw its way his chest. something he's tried to keep dormant since the beginning of your little rendezvous. it's animalistic and so achingly present that he has to deliver a hard smack to your ass to keep it at bay.

well, obviously not at bay enough, because the next thing out of his mouth is, “you give my pussy away?” and he swears your moans pitch to a needier tempo upon hearing that.

really, it's stupid. ‘cause he knows you're someone else's. he knows your pussy isn't his. but the way you open up for him, the stark ring of white you paint over the base of his dick, every moan of his name tells him that it might as well be.

your head swivels in a frenzied shake. you twist your neck back to look at him, brows furrowed and lips parted in unfiltered lechery. “who'm I g…onna give it to?” the question leaves your lips, slurred and honest. then you bark out a chuckle that bleeds into a dry moan. “my old man? you know he can't handle me, ‘kuna. not the way you can.”

pathetically, his dick jumps at that divulgence. “yeah?” he breathes out, the arch of his foot finding purchase at the edge of your husband's desk. there aren't even words to describe how deeply he wants to be inside you, or how horribly he wants to paint your walls in his cum until every step you take is pronounced by a lewd sluicing noise. “that's what it is?”

with his hands caged against the swell of your hips, sukuna works himself in and out of you devoted tempo. slow and firm, like he's trying to punch the memory of himself into you one thrust at a time. you only manage a nod at his question, a given since your teeth are bared and your eyes are brimming with tears.

a cockiness flavors his tone as he feels himself pushing you closer and closer over the edge. “old man can’t take care of you, so you call me up?”

“yes,” you whine, your face contorted into an image of pleasure as he plows into you from behind. “fuck, i…ngh..hate h-him s…sooo much.” you growl the words out into the closed, sexed up air, surely hoping they'd be forgotten by the time you're both done.

“wanna show me how much you hate him, baby?” you're nodding before the sentence has even concluded, and fuck, your husband doesn't deserve a woman as good as you. how could he just up and leave you every other week? he hardly deserves to breathe. “cum for me then,” sukuna orders. “wet this dick up for me.”

he counts one, two, three more thrusts before a heady, orgasmic cry pours from your lips and into the stuffy office air. with each stroke he deals, a thick rivulet of squirt is being coaxed out of you. you're cumming so hard your body seizes in it, completely engulfed in the throes of your release.

from where he's standing, he gets a near perfect view of your pussy. sopping and stretched full around his cock. your soft, pliant folds varnished in countless layers of your own slick and cum. clit rubbed raw and tender from the steady smack of his balls against the swollen button. it's the perfect thing to be looking at as his own orgasm slowly encroaches on him.

“i'm gonna cum,” he growls.

“wait,” in a couple quick motions, you're sliding him out of you and sinking to your knees before him. “wanna swallow it this time.”

well, shit, he can't argue with that. you crane your neck up and extend your tongue for him, and for a moment, sukuna thinks this will be like all the other times you've swallowed his cum. that is, until he sees you shimmying your diamond wedding ring off your finger, ordering a brief, “try to get a good shot,” before placing it near the center of the pink muscle.

just the sight of that—your pretty mouth open wide for him with a space in it made just for desecrating the sanctity of your marriage. he has to hurry and garner a good aim so he can fill you, or he's sure he'll die right now.

it isn't helped by the fact that one of your hands is now cupping his balls. rubbing the soft skin between your finger tips while he jerked himself into your mouth. finally, he made sure his tip was angled perfectly with your wedding ring before he released within it.

sukuna cums with a sharp, broken cry of your name. the head of his cock blushes a feverish red as he spills his cum into that spot on your tongue. he has to take a mental picture of the whole thing.

before his release can flood the barriers of the jewelry, you take it off your tongue and swallow him whole.

sooner or later, both of you are collapsed on the office floor. chests heaving and bodies covered in a veneer of sweat.

“is it true what you said?” you asked, resting your head on against his warm chest. “that you missed me?”

sukuna's cheeks flush at the remembrance of his words. “…yeah,” he mutters. “did i get too sappy?”

You crossed your arms and pouted. You’d been tarrying about your father’s study for the last hour, hoping he’d change his mind. But tonight, no matter how you twisted and turned your words, he seemed determined to remain unswayed.

Frankly, it was annoying you to no end. Your father had always been resolutely obstinate, but rarely when it concerned you. Every bloodsucker, far and wide, freshly turned and centuries old, knew that the King of Vampires, Sukuna, could never deny his daughter her heart’s content. You were the apple of all four of your father’s eyes, and all you had to do was simply exist.

It had been this way since the beginning. You occupied the largest wing in the castle, which was redecorated every season according to your mood, while the furniture in Sukuna’s own wing remained as permanent as the prime immortal himself, unchanging since the dawn of time. You loved roses, so Sukuna had captured employed a team of alchemists and gardeners to drape the expansive gardens with every imaginable species of the flower, and to ensure they were in perpetual bloom all year round, including winter. Whenever you attended any of your father’s audiences, it was customary to greet you first before Sukuna, and whenever you were absent, it was customary to ask after your well-being before uttering anything else. The more creative a compliment towards you that one could conceive, the more inclined Sukuna was to listen to their plights.

No request you made, however fanciful, however outrageous, was too much for Sukuna to grant. 

Except this. Except when it concerned Satoru Gojo.

“What if I bring Uraume along?” you tried again. “Certainly you won’t object to that.”

“It changes nothing. And Uraume is busy. The blood moon is less than a month away, and there is much left to be prepared for the Red Feast. Our pens are not yet fully stocked. I should like to avoid feeding our guests rat wine during the night of my daughter’s betrothal announcement.”

“Then all the more you should let me go out tonight,” you pressed. “Since, my dear father, I have yet to decide who I wish to be betrothed to.”

“Mmm, and you seem to be taking your own sweet time with it.” Sukuna raised an inquiring brow at you. “I should think a hundred years was long enough for you to find someone to your liking. And since we’re on the topic of suitors, this Zenin boy you are so insistent on meeting tonight—I was under the impression that my daughter had better tastes than that.”

“What’s wrong with Naoya?”

Sukuna did not look amused. “Only in so much as I believe him to be a waste of your time. The boy has no respect for our ways and behaves like a rabid gutter rat during hunting season. If he weren’t a Zenin, I’d have him staked out under the sun by now.”

“Well, I disagree. He’s been perfectly nice to me.”

“Everyone is nice to you, my dear. Unless they’d like to perish most painfully. And I said the boy is a waste of time, I never said he was stupid. He’s a power hungry maniac—“

“Speak for yourself, father.”

“Yes, but I am powerful. The Zenin boy merely thinks he is, in which, he is sadly mistaken. You are my only daughter. The Crown Princess of the Night. You will be the Queen of Vampires when I retire. I’d hoped you’d at least settle on someone more… amenable. Someone who delights in giving you everything as much as I do.”

“But he stirs something in me, father.” You didn’t want to say it was because Naoya gave good head. “And he’s always bringing me gifts. Like tonight. He said he has something he wants to show me, and that I won’t want to miss it.”

“There is not much difference between wanting something and pure stupidity.”

“Are you calling me stupid?”

“Far from it, but you will be if you insist on going out, which you will not. I do not wish to wake tomorrow night only to discover I am short of a daughter.”

Naturally, for someone who was used to getting everything you wanted, hearing the word ’no’ was an unusual experience. You weren’t used to it, and you certainly didn’t like it.

Your beaded slippers tapped the cold stone floor with equal persistence. You huffed. “I fail to see what’s so dangerous about this slayer. It’s all merely rumours. Surely if he’s so incompetent, then there’s nothing to be worried about Satoru Go—“

Your father’s answering growl was vicious, causing you to hesitate. The glow of the candelabras caught in all four of his ancient eyes, and you saw that his irises had deepened from a glittering crimson to icy black voids. 

“Never speak his name in these walls.” But Sukuna must have caught your slight flinch, because his tone softened immediately. He sighed, and put down the tome he was reading, finally paying you his full attention. “Ask yourself this, daughter—if there are rumours abound of a singular individual, then is there not some truth to them? Incompetent he may be, but there is a reason he is called the Six Eyes. And if he truly is as lousy as they say, then why have none of our kind managed to survive an encounter with him?”

You frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. If no vampire has survived the Six Eyes, then who is spreading all these rumours? And how do we know they’re true?”

Sukuna watched you in silence, as impervious as the gargoyle statues carved into the castle’s exterior. His fingernails, sharpened to wicked points, rapped against the intricately carved mahogany desk before him. 

“That is a story for another day, dear daughter,” he said at last, and picked up his tome. “The only thing you need to be concerned of tonight is staying within the castle grounds. I’m certain you will find something to occupy yourself with for one night. Go torture one or two of the gardeners should it please you. But if you do feed on any of them, remember to let Uraume know so we can find a replacement.” 

He waved one of his four hands, signalling that your conversation had come to an end. 

You wanted to argue. Wanted to stomp your foot and demand he put that tome down again. But you resisted. You were smarter than that. Your father might acquiesce to most of your wishes, but he wasn’t a pushover. Whining he could take, but a tantrum you knew for a fact he wouldn’t tolerate. His default mood was already surly, and toying with his temper by showing your own was a bad way to go about it. 

No. Safer to just do it behind his back. 

Which was why the moment you left your father’s study, you announced to your servants you were going to sulk and wished to be left alone, then proceeded up to the castle’s highest tower, and leapt right out the window. 

Your eyes closed, savouring the sensation as you plummeted down and down and down. The thrill of it. And when you opened them again, you saw that the ground had nearly swallowed up the distance. You grinned.

Not yet. Not until the last seconds. 

A rise in your chest. A tingle. A beat? You clutched on to the feeling. A feeling you couldn’t name but could not resist chasing. 

Three…Two…One… the ground expanded around you.

You shifted.

Great membranous wings sprouted out your back, unfurling. Then you were soaring up and away, into the night sky, the cold winter winds beating against your colder skin, and with your back to the moon, you flew further and further away from the cliffside castle you called home, headed for the forest. 

Up here, among silence and the stars and pale, silvery light of the moon—the only light you ever knew—your breaths eased, and you could not help but wonder if this feeling was as close to what the humans described as peace. 

For vampires did not feel like humans did, yet it fascinated you so. That all it took was a beating heart to conjure an unfathomable amount of emotions, and if you dared admit, was the one thing about humans you envied. Because the thing in your chest—if you even had one—had never once moved. It was still when you were born, and would remain so for eternity.

You spotted the clearing where you were to meet Naoya, the midpoint between the castle, the Zenin Estate and the human settlements. But you remembered your father’s warning about the Six Eyes. That Satoru Gojo was on the hunt tonight. Your predator’s vision zoomed in like a magnifying glass, searching through the darkness of the trees below. 

You saw Naoya. He was in his vampire form. The idiot. Every creature of the night knew to hide their true form this close to the human settlements. No one wanted to scare their food away. If word spread that a vampire was skulking about nearby, the towns would go into lockdown, merchants would stop travelling through the forest routes, and the slayers would be deployed in droves. There would be no food for the vampires to hunt. They’d have to live off animal blood for weeks, a poor substitute compared to their usual sustenance. 

And then you realised Naoya wasn’t alone. He was kicking something on the ground. Something small and limp—

A human. 

You descended, your wings angled for a quick landing, diving into the shadows of the forest. The moment your feet touched the snow-covered ground, silent and swift, you immediately shifted into your human form. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you hissed, not bothering to greet him. 

Naoya turned around, eyes glinting in the darkness. His arms spread out in welcome. “Finally. Took you long enough. It’s not nice to keep your betrothed waiting, princess. I was growing bored and was about to start without you.”

“You’re not my betrothed yet. And is that...“ Your eyes widened at the bloody lump of flesh, unmoving on the dirty snow. 

“Your gift. To celebrate our union.” Naoya grinned, fangs flashing. “Don’t worry, it’s alive. Barely. But still breathing. I’d never feed you expired produce.”

“Naoya, that is a child.” 

“So it is. Females are always so perceptive, aren’t they?” Naoya spared a glance at the prone body. A girl that looked not even past ten years of human age. “Go on. Have the first bite. Or we can do what we usually do—you may feed on it while I feed on that cunt of yours. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, my little slut—”

“We’re not supposed to feed on children,” you cut him off. “It’s against our rules, and the pact my father made with the first mortal king. You know this. Hunting them down this young will only dwindle our supply.”

But Naoya seemed genuinely surprised. “You’ve never tried a child before? And here I am thinking you’re not as innocent as you make yourself out to be.”

You stared at him. “How long have you been feeding on children?”

Naoya shrugged. “Long enough to know they taste better than aged blood. They’re sweeter. Fresher. Like a clear, crystal lake.” He grabbed the child, dragging its body through the slush of snow and earth before dumping it in front of you. “There’s a first time for everything, princess. Try it. You’ll never want go back to sucking aged blood once you do, trust me.”

“No,” you said, firmly. “Return it. Make it seem like an accident. If the humans find out you’ve been hunting their young, the pact will be annulled and the slayers will have free reign to invade our lands. And the child deserves to experience mortal life before becoming our prey.”

Naoya frowned. “I don’t remember you being this… opinionated. It’s unbecoming of you, princess. I think I much prefer that mouth of yours when it’s moaning my name.”

“I’m serious, Naoya. Put the child back where you found it.”

He moved then, like a fault in time, a warping of space, his preternatural speed placing him behind you before you could blink. With him in his vampire form and you in a human’s, your own reflexes were dulled, and the next thing you knew, he had his fist in your hair, his fangs grazing up your neck. 

Naoya licked the shell of your ear. “Don’t play coy, princess. If this is your way of asking me to fuck you before we feast, then it’s better to just beg.”

“I’m not playing around, you idiot.” You tried pushing him away, but his grip on you tightened, sharp fingernails digging into your skin. Good sex or not, you were starting to question why you liked him at all. “Stop. I mean it. Let go of me or else—“

But Naoya was laughing. “Or else? Or else what?”

A rip. He’d torn through the neckline of your dress. Your sleeve split down your shoulder. 

“Admit it,” he was saying. “You like it when I treat you like a disobedient slut. When I shut that mouth up with my—aargh! What the fuck?“

Naoya’s grip loosened, his head snapping around, then down.

There was something white on the ground. Something so mundane yet so out of place in the middle of a forest that it confounded you just as much.

Was that… garlic?

A rustle in the silence. 

A man was standing in the clearing, as if he’d materialised out of blank space like an apparition. The first thing you noticed was his white hair, as white as falling snow. Then his eyes…

“Ah… excuse me, miss,” he seemed to be speaking to you. In one of his gloved hands was another bulb of garlic. “I couldn’t help but notice you seem to be in a bit of a pickle. Might I offer you some assistance?”

The sudden presence of another—human? Yes, he was definitely human. You didn’t before, but you caught his scent now. Smelled the blood flowing in his veins, rich and heady and oh so sweet…

But how could a human have evaded your senses? Even Naoya, in true form, hadn’t noticed the man until he’d shown himself. It baffled you, and apparently Naoya as well, because he was as speechless as you.

You asked the only question that came to mind. “Who are you?”

The man stepped forward, moonlight casting silver lines across his face, pale and young and pretty; illuminating his tall, lithe figure, clad in the simple leathers of a village hunter. 

He cleared his throat. “Well, you see, I’m a vampire slayer. And that there, as I’m sure you are already aware, is a vampire—“ he gestured at Naoya, somewhat carelessly. “I regret to tell you this, miss, but that thing isn’t going to kiss you if that’s what you’re expecting.”

“You’re a slayer?” 

He must have thought you were rendered stupid because he spoke slower this time. “Yes, ah… I’m sure you’ve heard of the occupation. I slay vampires for a living. As in return them to dust. Vanquish them. Kill them, to put it simply.”

“You pelted me with garlic, you fool,” Naoya growled, having recovered from the man’s unexpected intrusion. “Only an imbecile would do that.”

The man’s—slayer’s—eyes, a deep entrancing blue that glowed in the darkness like the heart of a flame, settled on Naoya. “Well, it caught your attention, didn’t it? So I’d say it worked.” His tone hardened then. “And shame on you. Preying on a child and giving such a lovely lady false hope. I don’t tolerate rakes who go around breaking hearts, much less vampires. And it seems you are both.”

But Naoya was laughing. “Oh, you are hilarious. What kind of slayer confronts a vampire without holy silver? It almost makes me want to spare you out of pity, which I won’t, just so you know.”

The slayer merely grinned. “I’m not asking you to, fiend. In fact, I was actually planning on hitting you in the head again.”

His answer only amused Naoya further because he finally released you, red eyes gleaming with newfound excitement, as if he’d found a new sport.

“Is that so?” Naoya bared his fangs, tongue licking the tip. “Because my suggestion is that you’d better run, slayer. Run fast, and run far. I’m feeling generous so I’ll count to ten, and when I catch you, your throat will no longer be attached to your head.”

To your surprise, the slayer laughed right back. “I wouldn’t bother counting if I were you. I might not use swords, but I’ll have you know I’m quite fast.” He crooked his fingers at Naoya. “Come on, try me.”

Everything in your mind snapped into place then. The man’s sudden appearance. That he called himself a slayer. The garlic. That he wasn’t intimidated by Naoya even without a holy weapon. Your father’s countless lectures swam in your head, solidifying into the only plausible conclusion you now could not deny. 

This man—he was no ordinary slayer. 

You spun to warn Naoya. To tell him to run. But it was too late. He’d already moved, and it was like he’d stretched through the clearing in a single step, no longer next to you but where the slayer stood— 

Or had been standing.

You could have sworn upon your entire undead existence that the slayer hadn’t so much as twitched a muscle. But what you saw with your own eyes was irrefutable. He was there one moment, and then he was simply… not. He’d disappeared like a ghost—no, that wasn’t right. He’d swerved, like a gust of wind, and before Naoya’s fangs could bite into nothing, the slayer was already behind him.

“Watch out!” You shouted. 

The slayer must have thought you were talking to him because he was smiling at you. “Not to worry, my lady. I promise you I have quite a lot of experience in handling vampires—“ Then he did it again, moving as the air moved, feinting another one of Naoya’s deadly slashes. “Not as much as other slayers, come to think of it. Perhaps a higher kill count, though I can’t be sure. Still, quality is better than quantity, that’s what Suguru always told me. Then again, he liked to think he was very profound…”

He continued like this, rambling on and on while he dodged every attack Naoya threw at him.  No matter what Naoya did, no matter how many times he tried, clawing and slashing and pouncing, he couldn’t touch the slayer. Not even a brush. And this only incensed him further. 

“You dare play tricks on me?” Naoya growled, furious, but you could tell he was growing tired. His movements were lagging. “No human can possibly move this quickly.”

Perhaps it was your imagination, but the slayer’s impossible blue eyes seemed to glow brighter. “My gratitudes for the compliment. For that, you get a present.”

It took less than a blink—not even—for the slayer’s fist to connect, fingers splayed as he smashed the garlic he’d been holding this whole time in Naoya’s face. Another hand was wrapped around Naoya’s neck in a chokehold, lifting him off his feet for half a second before slamming him onto the ground. 

Naoya was gasping now. The gasps turned into splutters as the slayer’s boot came down on his face, smooshing the garlic into mush.

“Take—her—princess…”

The slayer put a hand to his ear, but eased the pressure of his boot slightly. “I’m sorry, what was that? You know, it’s rude to speak with your mouth full.”

Naoya heaved, one hand struggling to claw at the slayers leather boot, to no avail, while the other feebly pointed a finger in your direction. “S-spare me—you can have her… she’s the princess...“

Your eyes widened, your body growing rigid. 

Oh, that bastard. He would sell you out to save himself. You suddenly regretted you’d ever entertained him as a suitor at all. 

“Princess?” The slayer lifted a brow, but his boot was twisting into Naoya’s face once more as those blue eyes glanced your way, sparking your veins, yet you never felt your blood turn so cold as it did now. 

“I…” Your mind screamed at you to run. To shift into your winged form and hurtle into the sky. But the compounding thought of your father’s words and the sight before you—Naoya flailing in the snow, the slayer’s unnatural speed, those blue eyes… your muscles were frozen in place, as if dreading the thought of moving. 

“My lady, you never mentioned you were royalty,” the slayer said, perhaps a little awestruck. “You should have said so. I would have addressed you with your proper title. I mean, I knew you weren’t from the villages, because I would have noticed if someone as beautiful as you—ah… my apologies, now I sound like a cad. But you are, ah, that is to say, beautiful. Very much so—“ He paused, glancing down briefly. “Excuse me, Your Highness. I’m just going to…”

He stomped on Naoya’s face again. And again. And again. And you watched in horror as a wet crack pierced through the clearing.

Naoya went still.

“Again, I apologise,” the slayer said, finally removing his now bloody boot off your former suitor. “You shouldn’t have to see that. But I should warn you not to go near it since it’s still alive. There are only two proven methods to completely vanquish a vampire—holy silver and sunlight. Don’t be afraid though, I might not have any silver on me but I have a way to make sure this one won’t regenerate before—“

“You’re—“ you found your voice at last. “You’re the Six Eyes.”

The slayer grinned, and it took everything in you to keep from turning on your heels and running as he approached you.

“At your service.” He bowed, then took your hand and kissed the back of it. “And it’s Satoru, Your Highness. Satoru Gojo.” He winked. “Now, let’s get you and that child home, shall we?”

He was prattling again.

“There, all done. I made this one extra deep, so I don’t think it will be able to crawl out any time soon. Well, I guess it could sprout wings, but I made sure to break all its bones just in case. Besides, I doubt it will wake up until sunrise, so it doesn’t matter since it will be fried to a crisp…”

You stared into the mouth of the pit, in which Naoya had been tossed, his body swallowed by darkness. A part of you almost felt bad for him, but then again, he did try to offer you up on a platter to save his own sorry ass. 

The Six Eyes—Satoru Gojo—dusted his gloved hands, cheerfully, as if he’d finished tending his garden and not condemning one of your kind to dust. “You’re very lucky this one’s quite dense, Your Highness. The only reason I managed to track you down was because it was dumb enough to assume its vampire form this close to the borders. And to think, I was about to take a nap and miss out on meeting the most beautiful person I’ve ever—”

“Are there more of these pits around the area?”

“Huh? Oh, yes. Took some time to dig them all,” he said, a little too proudly. “They’re quite effective, if I do say so myself. Helps to keep the vamps trapped since there’s only one of me, and I can’t be out patrolling all the time. I installed spikes at the bottom, too. Holds them in place until either me or the sun arrives, whichever comes first.”

You didn’t know if you were more horrified or impressed with his methods. They were odd, certainly unorthodox. Every slayer you’d encountered previously (and killed, but he didn’t need to know that) treated a silver sword like their third leg, brandishing and poking the weapon in your face, desperate to impale you with it.

But not the Six Eyes. Not Satoru Gojo. Apparently, he preferred throwing root vegetables and digging holes in the ground. 

So this was what the rumours meant about him being incompetent but effective. All this while, you’d assumed he was just some dunce with luck on his side. But you knew better now. There was nothing lucky about that incredible reflex—Naoya’s speed was unrivalled among vampires, but the way Satoru Gojo had so easily taken him down, as if he was swatting a fly… no mere mortal would ever be able to accomplish such a feat.

“I have a question, Six Eyes” you said, trying not to sound as though you were prying. But you had to know more about him. For your own survival, of course.

“Anything, Your Highness. All you have to do is ask.” He’d picked up the child and was gently cradling its mousy-looking body, and the sight of it—of something so fragile, so helpless, in his arms—you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if it was you instead. “You are under my protection from now on. Until I return you safely to your home, whatever you wish, whatever you desire, I am at your disposal.”

You would have found it charming, if it weren’t for the fact that you were the very creature he hunted. 

“Are you—“ There was no way around it except to put it plainly. “Are you human?”

He seemed genuinely taken aback by this. Perhaps slightly insulted—no, that was not it. You saw his brows furrow, his smile fall away. Almost as if he was…

“Have I given you cause to be afraid of me?” His concerned tone confirmed it. “Do you distrust my nature? Because I swear upon heaven and hell that my blood is mortal. I slay creatures of the night. I’d never hurt you, Your Highness. Please believe me. May lightning strike me dead if I—“

“Well, it’s just that what you did to Nao—that vampire—I’ve never seen a human move that fast.”

“Oh, you mean my excellent perception.” Like a turning of the page, he was back to smiling. “Why didn’t you just ask? It’s not a secret. Not really. I’ll tell you all about it if you want. Takes an hour to reach the nearest village, so we have plenty of time. I’ll drop the child off first and then escort you back to—ah, which kingdom did you say you’re from?”

You stiffened. “Kingdom?” You pointed in a random direction. “It’s that way.”

“Are you sure? It’s all mountains over on that side.”

“Ah… I’m not sure. I thought it was. I’m not very good at… maps.”

“The closest kingdom that way would be where Poenari Castle is. Come to think of it, I did once hear the princess there was renowned for her beauty, but I’ve never been—

“Yes, that’s the one,” you said, quickly. If he’d never seen the place before, then it would make it easier to fabricate a story until you found a way to escape him. 

And you would have to do it soon. In a few hours, to be precise. Before the sun rose and you were turned to dust.

But for the time being, your immediate problem was Satoru Gojo and his insistence on becoming your knight in shining armour. You were not unaware that you were now probably the only vampire to have survived an encounter with the Six Eyes. A disturbing thought, since you were currently stuck with him, and the only thing saving you was your very, very wise decision to stay in your human form. 

“Great! Then we’d better get moving,” he said, and began leading the way, leaving you with no choice but to follow him further away from the vampire territories. “It’s going to take us at least six days’ travel to Poenari Castle."

You halted.

Six days? You didn't have six days. You didn't even have six hours.

"We’ll stock up on supplies and hire a carriage in the village. Can’t have a princess travelling on foot the whole way—“

“I—I can’t go to the village.”

He stopped, and gave you a confused look. “Why not? Are you tired? Are you hurt? Did that vampire bite you somewhere I didn’t see?”

“It’s just—well, the thing is—“ You racked your brain for any plausible excuse, pulling up whatever you could recall about New Transylvania’s human settlements, whatever your father had told you about them. But all you could remember was that it had its own castle, not so different from your own…

A castle. With a king and a queen. And more importantly, there was a prince…

An idea started to form. 

“Well, you see, I can’t go to the village because I don’t want the prince finding out my whereabouts,” you said before you could regret it. “I’m betrothed to him. I—I ran away. I got lost. A vampire found me. Then you came along.”

You felt a strange hammering in your chest when he didn’t reply immediately. When all he did was just look at you with those bewitching blue eyes, and it was as if he had put you under a spell. Was this what humans felt like when vampires compelled them? Because you couldn’t look away either.

Anger. Hatred. Fear. Regret. Humans were so simple to read, even when they thought they were hiding it. But with the Six Eyes, you only had more questions. Had you convinced him? Did he believe you? Or could he tell you were lying? It only drew you in deeper.

But then he was nodding. “Well, that explains everything,” he said at last. “I was actually wondering what a princess from a far away kingdom was doing in the middle of a forest at night in New Transylvania, but I thought it impolite to ask.” He turned sharply in another direction. “Change of plans. No village. We’re heading this way now.”

You hesitated. “Where are you taking me?”

Satoru Gojo’s smile widened. “To my home, of course. I’m guessing you need a place to hide, am I right? And contrary to what everyone believes, I don’t actually live in the trees.”

You should have just gone to the village. 

Now you were stuck in the dining room of a decaying manor, alone with a vampire slayer, trying not to grimace as a bowl of what looked harrowingly similar to sludge was placed on the long table. Thick and brown and steaming. Not so different from the stuff Uraume fed to the humans in your castle’s pens.

And the smell—it was odious. It made you want to gag. But the last thing you wanted to do was insult the Six Eyes. 

“Is something wrong with the stew, Your Highness?”

Your face must have shown it because he’d stopped stirring his own bowl. 

“No, not at all.” You smiled, tightly. “It’s just that… I’m not very hungry right now.”

Unfortunately, your stomach chose that moment to betray you, a growl echoing throughout the silence of the dining room. 

The corners of his eyes crinkled upwards. He pressed his lips together, as if trying to keep a straight face, and perhaps, for the first time, your cheeks warmed.

“I know it’s not on par with the kind of fare you’re used to," he said. "But I promise you it’s not as bad as it looks. You must have been out in the cold for hours. A little nourishment will make you feel better. At least take a few bites before you retire for the night.”

Bite. What you’d really like to bite was him. You hadn’t fed the whole night, and it didn’t help that his scent was very, very appealing. Such as humans had different tastes in the food they ate, vampires, too, had their own preferences. Your father favoured bitter blood, with a healthy dose of misery and suffering. Naoya—before you knew he preyed on children—always took his blood young, barely cross the coming of age. And as for you—

There was no blood that smelled as exquisite as what was flowing in Satoru Gojo’s veins.

You tried not to think about how delicious his neck looked, and forced yourself to pick up your spoon. You skimmed the surface of the stew, avoiding the dubious chunks bobbing about, brought it to your mouth, and took a very, very tiny sip.

It was horrendous. You were better off eating rat shit.

With every five scoops he took, you made yourself take one, swallowing down each mouthful with so much force that it must have looked like torture, because he was grinning. 

You frowned. “Do you find me funny, Six Eyes?”

He chuckled, and leaned slightly forward. “More entertaining than funny, I assure you, Your Highness. And please, it’s Satoru. Only dead things call me Six Eyes.”

You didn’t miss the irony of it. “Right… Satoru—so, do you live here alone?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “There’s my little witch boy, Megumi. But he comes and goes whenever he pleases. Unless I need him for a job, he mostly boils grass and sells them as love potions in the villages.”

You counted your lucky stars. Apart from this Megumi fellow, the only occupants here were Satoru and the child he’d left sleeping in one of the rooms. That should make it easy for you to escape this creepy estate—and creepy it was, even for an immortal predator such as yourself. Unlike the candle-lit halls of your own castle, this place was the epitome of doom and gloom. Barren. Mottled. Inside, the cold stone walls were thick with shadows, the dusty furniture like forgotten skeletons. The grounds surrounding the manor house were not much better, resembling a graveyard for dead leaves and brambles, surrounded by towering iron fences, affixed with spikes at the top.

Thank Lucifer you had wings. You’d wait until he retired for the night, and then make your escape.

You steeled yourself, and finished the foul stew. You had a couple of hours left until sunrise. If you hurried, you’d be able to reach your castle before you were reduced to corpse dust. 

“Thank you for the meal,” you said, standing. “If it’s alright, I’d like to rest now. Tonight’s… adventures have left me positively exhausted.”

“Of course, of course.” He rushed to his feet, and began leading the way out the dining room and up a creaking grand staircase to a hall full of doors. He stopped at one of them, and opened it, standing aside for you to enter. “The best room for the best—ah… never mind. After you, Your Highness.”

As you squeezed past him, this close, all your thoughts narrowed on how good he smelled, and a particularly delicious spot just below his ear. 

Satoru’s voice lowered, his previously circumspect manner switching like the sudden turning of tides to something that sprung heated coils below your stomach. “You’re staring, Your Highness,” he said, those blue eyes fixed on you. “Do I have something on my neck?”

You regretted flinching. “What? N-no. Nothing. I wasn’t…” your voice trailed off. You cleared your throat, and quickly put as much distance between yourself and him as possible. “Well, good night. And you don’t have to call me Your Highness.”

“Oh?” Satoru leaned his broad frame against the door like a very tempting feast. Your empty stomach fluttered. “Then what should I call you?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” It didn’t really matter. It wasn’t as if you’d be around to hear it. “I’ll, ah, see you in the morning.”

He gave you a smile you couldn’t decipher. “I’ll be waiting, princess.”

When he finally left, you loosened the breath you’d been holding all this while. He might still be lurking around so you couldn’t leave just yet. 

Left with time to kill, you began pacing around the surprisingly lavish room. It had been cleaned out, almost like Satoru had expected to have guests. Perhaps this was where he usually slept, and was courteous enough to relinquish it to you for the night. But he was also courteous enough to kill Naoya, so you should stop thinking about him. 

You didn’t know how long you waited, but you deemed it long enough that he was most likely sleeping by now. The bedroom’s window was too small for you to squeeze through, which left you with no choice but to slowly—ever so slowly—turn the knob and inch the door slightly ajar.

The yawning silence of the hallway greeted you as you peeked out. Darkness had never bothered you—your vision was built for it. You slipped out of the room, wincing as the door creaked shut behind you. 

Your feet made no sound as you hurried past the stained glass arches and down the grand staircase, taking two steps at a time. Thankfully, some of your vampiric abilities were still ingrained in human form—night vision, superior stealth—and you reached the carved double doors of the manor’s entrance without any trouble. 

Your hands reached for the dull brass handles when a loud yawn broke through the silence.

You spun, your chest seizing, and found the child Naoya had almost beaten to death standing by a small archway, looking very much alive.

The child yawned again. “About time. I was getting sick of standing around.”

You frowned. “I’m going for a stroll. Go back to sleep, child.”

“A stroll?” A familiar voice spoke then. A voice that froze your entire body stiff. “In the middle of the night? How odd you are, princess.”

Out of the shadows in the archway, like a spectre that hadn’t been there before, stepped Satoru Gojo.

He smiled. “Would you like some company? I’m wide awake, as you can see, and Megumi here doesn’t mind. We’ll bring him along just in case.”

Megumi? Your eyes darted to the child, who grumbled inaudibly. He knew the child? And Megumi was a… he?

Satoru extended an arm towards you. “So, what do you say, princess? It will be safer with the both of us. Who knows what manner of creature might be lurking in the bushes.” His teeth flashed in the most wicked way. “Creatures like you, for example.”

A heaviness seeped into your muscles, calcifying your bones. You couldn’t feel your legs. Neither could you tear your eyes away from his penetrating blue gaze. 

“You know…” your voice was barely audible. If there was ever a good time for your body to move, it was now. But you were trapped. Paralysed. “You’ve known the whole time.”

“I can never understand why you vampires like to think I’m an idiot. Of course I know.” He lifted a finger. “One, my eyes can see through anything. Excellent perception, remember? And no human alive can be as beauti—“ He stopped, as if he’d almost given something away. “Forget number two. You get my point.”

“If you’re going to explain your whole plan, then hurry up,” said Megumi. “I want to go back to sleep.”

Plan? They had a plan?

“You’re ruining the suspense, darling Megumi. I was going to let her—it—ponder for awhile longer before telling her—it—that we’ve been tracking its movements for quite some time now. Weeks, actually. That everything was fabricated and we used you as bait, and it was no coincidence that you were almost eaten by her former lover, which, of course, I’d never let happen to you, my darling Megumi.”

Megumi scoffed. “Not like she’s going to stay to hear the whole story.” He pointed at you. “See, she’s so bored she’s already leaving.”

You didn’t bother answering and threw open the double doors. There was no besting the Six Eyes in a fight, so the only other option was to run. You had to shift into your wings and get as high up as possible before he could catch you. If there was one thing you were sure of, it was that he couldn’t fly. 

Dark open skies stretched above you, and without hesitation, you called forth your wings. 

Nothing happened. 

You were still in human form. 

A lazy tapping of boots followed behind you. 

“Ah… right.” Satoru shrugged, too casually. “I forgot to mention that we might have put something in your stew. A spell, to be exact. Well, Megumi did—not me. But I told him to. Did I mention he’s a witch? So I wouldn’t bother with trying to flap those wings.”

Your lungs hollowed out, and for the first time, you understood what fear truly meant, and it was consuming.

But you were your father’s daughter. The Crown Princess of the Night. If this was to be your end, you would face it with dignity. You refused to die a grovelling fool.

“Fine. You win,” you spat at him, but stood your ground, holding your head high. “If you’re going to kill me, then just do it.”

Satoru raised a brow. “What? Oh no, no, no. You’ve mistaken me. You’re my esteemed guest. I’m not going to kill you… yet. That would certainly do me no favours with your father. And I do so want to meet him again.”

It dawned on you then—the plan he orchestrated, your capture—the real target had never been you. 

The Six Eyes was after the King of Vampires. 

Your voice turned venomous. There was no point in hiding your true nature. Not anymore. “You really are a fool if you believe my father will be so easily defeated.”

Satoru answered with his own grin. “Oh, I don’t believe. I know. Because I now have, in my possession, the only thing Sukuna treasures most in his entire undead existence. And I have no doubt he’ll want it back… most desperately.” He gave you a mocking bow. “A warm welcome, Your Most Immortal Highness. You’re stuck here with us whether you like it or not, so I urge you to make yourself at home.”

You were hungry. 

There was nothing but rodents. Small mice squeaking in the dim corners of the halls, and big, fat rats scurrying about in the barren larder, picking on scraps of rotten vegetables. 

But you would not stoop so low… not until you had to. Three nights had passed since your last feed, and you knew that the Six Eyes knew vampires could technically survive without blood, though they’d be immensely weakened, reduced to a husk—a withered shell of themselves, like a dried prune. But they wouldn’t die. Not truly. 

He was starving you on purpose. The bastard. And perhaps it was even more wicked that he gave you free reign to wander about the manor estate as you pleased, yet denied you of the very sustenance you craved. 

And worst of all? The most delicious blood you’d ever smelled was flowing in the veins of the very man who held you hostage. It seemed you were not only a captive, but captivated with the thought of biting him.

Your skin was starting to itch. The first sign of withdrawal. You’d never experienced it before—being a princess and all that—but it seemed like you were experiencing a lot of firsts as of late. None of them particularly enjoyable. 

You stomped through the garden, as if the snow you crushed underneath your slippers were to be blamed for your current predicament. Dirt clung to the hem of your dress, torn fabric hanging off and exposing your shoulder to the chilly, midnight air. But you’d rather your own clothes than the unsightly peasant’s sack one of them—the Six Eyes or the child—had left outside your bedroom door for you to change into. 

Not wanting to sequester yourself in the manor and breathe the same air as Satoru Gojo—and his maddening scent—you’d come out to the gardens the moment the sun disappeared, only returning to lock yourself in your room again right before dawn. At first, you’d wondered why you weren’t followed. Surely they’d anticipate you would risk the spikes and try to climb over the fence. Your suspicions were soon confirmed when you realised that the fences surrounding the estate had simply… vanished.

And in replacement was an infinite sea of snow, stretching on and on and around the perimeter of the estate. White and never-ending. That little witch boy must have put some kind of enchantment on this place. Whenever you tried to cross what you remembered was the threshold between the property and the outside world, it was like walking in loops, because you’d just pop back out a few steps behind. 

You wandered through the statue garden, where a collection of stern, moss-covered figures stared down at you, as if they were passing judgement on you for disobeying your father, and now you were paying the price for that stupidity.  

“Searching for stray cats to feed on, princess?”

Satoru Gojo stepped out from behind a faceless statue, as if he’d materialised out of thin air. 

You scowled at him. “What do you want?”

He chuckled. “Not so decorous anymore, are you, princess? I was just dropping by to check on how my lovely guest is faring—“

“I’ll fare better when you let me leave this forsaken place.”

“Come now, it’s not that bad. Haven’t I provided you with every comfort? You have a nice room, you can go about the estate as you please, do whatever you wish. Why, I don’t think I’ve treated any vampire this graciously before—well, not that it ever gets to that point since they would already be dead. Like that lover of yours.”

“Stop calling him that. He’s not my lover,” you snapped. “And if you’re here to merely goad me on, then do kindly fuck off. I don’t wish to spend the rest of my walk listening to your inane drivelling.”

“Still pissy, I see, which means you’re doing more than fine.” He shrugged. “Shame. I was going to offer you some blood, but since you’re so energised, I guess you won’t be needing it.”

“If you’re slicing up rats to offer to me, then you can go feed it up your—“

“Rats? Who said anything about rats? You think I don’t know creatures like you are only sustained with one type of blood?”

“You think I’d believe you would draw blood from a human to feed me?”

“Well, I wouldn’t need to draw blood from anyone. I’d just let you take a bite.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being serious. “And who is this person? A condemned prisoner you bought off the gallows? I don’t drink tainted blood.”

“Heavens, no. I would never be so crude, princess. Not even when I slay you…eventually.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Then what kind of human is it?”

“Only the best kind.” His grin widened. “Me, of course.”

Your throat bobbed, and worse, he noticed. He propped himself against the edge of the statue’s pedestal, and tilted his head aside. 

“This is what you’ve been staring at, am I right?” He traced a finger down the side of his neck, taunting. Unravelling the firm grip you had on your self control from the inside out in a matter of seconds. 

You dug your toes into the sharp points of your slippers, refusing to lose any more composure. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Why would I? There’s no reason to. I need you looking alive and well for when your father comes to collect you. That is, after he agrees to my demands, which will take some time. It seems being alive for centuries can turn one dreadfully stubborn. Though, I do have something I’d like you to do for me first…”

 He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small vial filled with shimmering blue liquid.

“It’s the same stuff we put into your stew,” he said, holding up the vial for you to better see. “The previous spell should be wearing off, and we can’t have you suddenly sprouting wings. I’m going to need you to drink it before you drink me. ”

A bargain. You should have known his offer came with conditions. And could it even be called manipulation if he wasn’t trying to hide it?

Whether you accepted or not, the outcome would be the same. You’d remain stuck here. It was either starve and turn into a prune, or take the potion and feed on him. Whichever you chose, you still wouldn’t have your wings.

Why make it harder, was what you convinced yourself as you trudged over and snatched the vial, uncorked it, and poured it down your throat, all the while glaring at him. 

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He said, catching the empty vial you flung back at him, tossing it aside. He patted his lap. “Come here, princess. Time for your reward.”

The annoying tug in your chest piqued again, progressing to a thunderous pounding as you approached, and lowered yourself onto him.

This close—touching—the heady scent of him engulfed you. Irresistible. Intoxicating. 

But you weren’t about to let him reduce you to a mewling buffoon. He’d had the upper hand for long enough. You were born an apex predator. You held the uncontested throne at the peak of the foodchain.

And you would show him exactly how you treated your prey. 

You smiled, and placed your hands on him, sliding them down the solid plain of his chest. Your voice lowered to a soft melody. “There’s something I’ve been wondering about, and I think you can help me out with it, Satoru…”

You sensed his pulse quicken, but those blue eyes remained fixed on you in calm amusement. “Oh? Now I’m curious. As I’ve said before, all you have to do is ask. Though it doesn’t mean you’ll get the answer you’re hoping for.”

Your hand moved up to his undeniably stunning face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “I couldn’t help but notice that you find me beautiful. Is it true? Do I appeal to you?”

A corner of his lips curved upwards. “Are you trying to compel me, princess? If so, you need not bother. I’ll simply tell you that while I may find you very, very attractive, I will never forget what you are. What you and your kind do to humans. What your true nature is—” the glimmer in his eyes darkened. “Cold. Heartless. A stain on this world. A creature that should be sent back to the deepest pits of the underworld.”

You felt something sharp dig into the side of your waist, and looked down.

Silver glinted back at you, pale moonlight reflecting off the polished blade.

“A knife?” You laughed. “Are you flirting with me? How romantic.”

He wound an arm around you, locking you in place against the blade’s tip.

“Thrilling, no?” He smirked. “Wouldn’t want you sucking me dry the first time when we have so many more nights to spend like this.”

Oh, he was good. Too good. You’d never met a human who resisted your compulsion this effectively, and at the same time, compelled you right back. 

But two could play his game. 

Your hand trailed to the back of his neck, fingers weaving into his soft, snowy hair. “Clearly, Satoru, you have never been bitten before. Because you wouldn’t be saying that to me if you had. Because instead, you’d be begging me to drain you to a corpse.” 

You fisted his hair, and yanked his head aside. Your lips grazed up the length of his delectable neck.

“Are you ready, Six Eyes?” you whispered. “If there’s one thing I can promise you, it’s that this will be your awakening, and your biggest regret.”

That delicious pulse of his raced under his skin. But he merely scoffed, “Do your best, princess.”

You parted your lips, and what was previously blunt canine teeth started to elongate, sharpening into two pin-prick points. 

And finally, your fangs sunk into his flesh. 

The taste of him—it decimated the world around you. There was no before. There was no after. Only the overwhelming high that floated inside and through you. An inexplicable, devastating pleasure that gushed down your throat and drummed through every fibre of your being. 

If such a thing as heaven existed, then it was him. 

A soft groan. His grip on your waist tightened. “This is—fuck….”

You gulped down more of him, helpless to the ultimate bliss that consumed you. The better he felt, the more you wanted. More than this. More than blood. You wanted everything.

All of him.

Still gripping his hair, you slid your free hand back down his chest, and then further down, and down some more, until you felt him—the thick, straining length of him, hard against your palm. 

Another groan escaped him, louder this time, as you rubbed him through the fabric of his breeches. And the sound he made…it unravelled you, just as much as you knew you were unravelling him. You wanted to hear him again. You could hear him forever.

“Don’t...” His voice had deepened to a slow lull as you increased both the pressure of your hand and your mouth on his neck. “Oh god—yes…”

A muffled crunch. Something heavy had fallen on the snow, and you knew it was his knife. Then his hands were on you, ripping your dress in half down the neckline. 

Icy winds kissed your cold skin, and then his hand was on your breast, the other underneath your skirt, dragging up and up and dipping between the apex of your thighs. 

You moaned, a stream of blood leaking down the side of your mouth, as his warm fingers met what you couldn’t hide, sliding up the centre of your slick folds. 

Never—never before had anyone made you lose yourself like this. Not Naoya. Not all your past suitors. And for a human to—how was he even moving? He was supposed to be pliant. Limp. A puddle of mush under your thrall. 

Instead, your moans grew louder as his fingers worked you in broad strokes. Your feeding grew careless, more blood spilling out and smearing around your mouth. 

You would eat him alive. You would—

You released the fastening on his breeches, tugging the strings loose.

His breath hitched. “What are you—“

You unlatched, your fangs receding back into teeth as you found his gaze. And in his eyes, you saw a war. A collision of heaven and hell. Temptation and sin. The unmistakable glaze of lust, and perhaps, something more. 

“Hush, Satoru,” you said, placing a finger on his lips. Licking his blood off your own. “I’m not done yet.”

You pulled away, and bent on your knees before him. You yanked his breeches down further, freeing his cock—thick and flushed and hard enough to ache. It was a beast.

And damn propriety, you needed all of it. Now.

You pressed your lips to his tip, and licked him. Licked at the beads of moisture seeping out his slit, and then took him in your mouth, and sucked.

“God, I—you’re… fuck it.” He let out a low, guttural groan. His fingers dived into your hair. He seemed to have collected enough of himself, because his voice steadied. “You want me this bad, princess? You can have me.”

You felt the rough tug of his fists in your hair, gripping you so tight your couldn’t move on your own accord. Then he was shoving the full length of him down your throat. 

You gagged, constricting around his thickness that filled you entirely. Your hands clutched onto his hips for purchase, eyes shuttering as he manoeuvred your head to pump you full of him, right up to the hilt. 

“I will vanquish you,” he said. “One day. This, I swear. But today, I will do it with my cock.”

In one swift motion, he pulled out. The next thing you knew, you were bent facing the statue, hands on the cracked pedestal as he lifted your skirt, and plunged two fingers into you. 

It was—your mind blanked.

You cried out as he drove into you, so deep, so unforgiving, his fingers curling just right, as if he knew the exact way to break you apart. 

“So wet, princess,” he murmured, breath ghosting your ear. “And all I did was bleed for you.”

You didn’t get the chance to retort. His fingers thrust again, harder, obscene sounds spilling from the tight clutch of your body. Every pump made your knees buckle, every curl of his knuckles tore another strangled moan from your throat.

His other hand slid up your spine, fingers trailing your exposed skin until they closed around the back of your neck, making you arch for him like you existed for nothing else.

He pressed his lips to the shell of your ear. “You’re going to come on my fingers,” he said, voice quiet as the knife he hadn’t bothered retrieving. “And then I’m going to fuck you. Right here. In front of all my stone-faced ancestors. Let them watch your fall from grace.”

You should snarl. You should spit in his face.

Instead, you rocked back on his fingers like a starving creature chasing a high.

Because that was what he was—your undoing. The deadly storm you couldn’t help but be drawn into. 

“Look at you,” he whispered, and there was a softness in his tone that didn’t match with the words he spoke. “Princess of the Night, losing herself on a human’s hand. If there’s ever a sight I shall remember, it is this…”

He shoved his fingers deeper. You gasped as he curved inside you, so perfectly, dragging a sound from your throat you didn’t recognise, and you shattered, a brutal climax consuming you so fully you couldn’t think past the blinding stars in your vision. 

He withdrew his fingers, making you shudder at the sudden emptiness—only for him to grab your hips, drag you back against him, and grind the hard length of his cock between your thighs, sliding along your soaked heat.

You nearly collapsed.

“Say it,” he murmured, lips dragging down your throat from behind. “Say you want me inside you.”

You heard it clearer this time. He might not be fully compelled but the aphrodisiac from your bite was still flowing inside him. But beneath the manic frenzy, hidden behind the veil of his rough words and rough hands, you didn’t miss it… his desire. His desperation. For you. 

So you spoke what he couldn’t bring himself to say, your voice spilling into the night like a confession.

Not a plea. A recognition. 

“I want you, Satoru… I can’t help it.”

A hitch in his breath. A tremor in his grip. A ripple of unseen power, stirring like a beast awakened.

“You—” his voice frayed. “You’re—fuck.”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence as he twisted you around to lift you up, legs straddling him, and backed you up against the statue, pinning you tight against unyielding stone. 

Yours mouths crashed together, a clash of tongue and teeth, the leash barely restraining the both of you snapping at last. Your hands were on him. His hands were on you. A melding of fire and ice, consuming one another with no end. 

And with his tongue filling your mouth, he dropped you down on his cock. 

You moaned into him, feeling him go deeper, and deeper still. Until you felt him everywhere. In your bones, in your breath. In the frantic, traitorous flutter you barely recognised as a pulse. 

You shouldn’t feel like this. You shouldn’t feel at all. Not for a human. Not for a slayer. Not for him. What you thought was hunger for his blood was—

He thrusted into you again, and you lost your train of thought. All that you were narrowed on the way his cock was stretching you out, so exquisitely, that you could only clench harder around him. As though your body had decided on its own that he belonged there.

“Why do you—” Satoru bit out, only to choke on a groan as your body clamped around him again like a vice. “Why the hell does this—why must you feel so fucking good—”

Eyes heavy-lidded, you peered up to find his gaze fixed on you. An incandescent blue that overwhelmed you, his pupil blown wide, hair tousled from your grip, dark red smears painted all over his neck.

And you realised what he already had. That he was ruined for you just as much as you were for him.

“You shouldn’t fit me like this.” His lips brushed against yours, so tender it jarred you. “You shouldn’t fit like you were made for me…”

A crackle in the air. A surge of—something bigger… ancient. Something inevitable—coiling between and around your bodies. Humming under your skin. Vibrating through your blood. Like a thread pulled taut. A door the both of you hadn’t meant to open.

Something binding.

Something was wrong. 

Your kind didn’t pull. Your kind didn’t bind. Your kind didn’t—

Then Satoru was laughing. An incredulous, bitter laugh. “Oh, this is cruel... fate just loves to fuck with me.”

Before you could form a reply, he was fucking into you again. Harder this time. Relentless. A man possessed. Your fingers dug into his back, clawing against his tunic. 

“S-Satoru—ahn!” You cried out his name. Over and over again as he impaled you, each deep, savage thrust obliterating your mind to dust. Ripping your soul from your body. 

Release barrelled through you as he pushed you over the edge. A bottomless freefall that wiped your mind clean of anything save the explosive rush encompassing you in its totality.  Then you felt him, warm and spilling into you with a final thrust. 

But you didn’t let go. Neither did he. Your mouths found each other again, moving in a rhythm of pure instinct, long and slow, deep and searching for the very thing you could not yet name. 

If you could, you would stay like this forever, with him buried inside you and the heat of his caresses against your tongue. Wrapped in his arms until your bodies became one. 

And for the first time, you were not cold. 

Then Satoru was pulling away.

Gently, he set you back down, and picked up his coat you just now noticed was lying in the snow. He threw it around your shoulders and pulled it closed, the heavy fabric settling over your bare chest where your dress hung in tatters.

He stepped back, and released a heavy breath. 

“Go home, princess,” he said. 

You didn’t think you heard him right. “You’re—you’re letting me leave?”

“There’s a vial in your right pocket.” He gestured at his coat around you. “It cancels out any spell’s effects. I was going to use it if you had succeeded in compelling me, but I guess you’ll need those wings if you want to make it back before sunrise. Megumi’s barrier enchantment answers to my will, so you should be able to cross the threshold now. Besides, I’d advice against walking—I dug up a lot of pits around the area.”

You stared at him. 

He was serious. The look on his face confirmed it, for it was a look you could only recognise as utter defeat. After everything—your capture, his plan to lure your father, his repeated threats to kill you—he would just…send you off?

“Why?” you asked.

But Satoru was already retreating. He laughed, as if he couldn’t believe it himself. “Now there’s a question that won’t do you any good if I answer.”

You watched him head back in the direction of his miserable, decaying manor. 

Your feet moved before you could think.

“Wait—“ you called out. Saw him hesitate. “What if—what if I stayed?”

His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn around. His reply came too quick. To easily. “My, my, and here I am thinking you’re smarter than this.” He waved his hand, flippantly. “Game’s over, princess. Happy flapping.”

This was it. This was your cue to leave. But instead, you were moving faster, as if there was an invisible string tied around the both of you, connecting you together, and it was pulling you towards him. 

You grabbed his arm, stopping him mid-stride. Satoru’s gaze darted to you, as if he hadn’t meant to but couldn’t help it. 

You reached for his face, your palm resting softly against his cheek.

“If you’re going to lie, Satoru,” you said. “At least look at me while you do it.”

A flicker in his infinite blue eyes, and for once he looked… lost. Like he’d stopped fighting. Not surrender, but acceptance. Like he’d uncovered a terrible truth—a force he knew he could not win.

It was snowing. White flakes drifted down from the sky like a shower of feathers, as quiet as Satoru’s voice.

“Princess...” he said. “I—you’re my—“

The sky boomed. 

Not thunder.

A voice. 

A deafening roar that rattled the stars and shook the lands. The furious roar of a great beast smiting his ire down from the heavens. 

A roar you could not mistake for any other.

“Satoru Gojo!” Sukuna’s menacing bellow echoed with the wind, and the night seemed to grow darker. “You thought I wouldn’t find you first?”

Your head snapped up to the sky, at what you could not see outside Megumi’s enchanted barrier. 

You should be relieved. Your father had come to rescue you. He would kill the evil slayer and take you back to safety. 

You held Satoru tighter. 

Satoru spared one more second—just one—his eyes completely fixed on you, and in that glance, you saw his whole world. Everything he would not show you.

Then his mask slipped back on.

“Huh, daddy’s early,” Satoru said. “Doesn’t sound too happy, either.”

The sky wavered, like the billowing of an iridescent sheet, and began melting as the enchantment over the manor estate broke down bit by bit, the endless snowy plains beyond the threshold dissolving away. You saw the the iron gates, the spiked fences, the forest—

And descending from the sky—a great winged shadow that blotted out the night itself.

The ground trembled as Sukuna, all eight arms and four eyes, landed a few paces from you and Satoru. You also saw the shift in his expression. The cold, immortal fury morphing into a viciousness you had never seen in him before, as he beheld the sight of you and Satoru, bodies pressed up against each other, your hands still on his face.

But your father did not shout or snarl. He spoke, quiet as looming death, and it was worse. 

“You took my daughter. You used her to threaten me. And now you dare defile her?” Both pairs of Sukuna’s crimson eyes narrowed on Satoru. “Have you been so desperate for my attention all these years that you would resort to such unscrupulous tricks?”

Satoru scoffed, and pulled away from you, striding forward. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you? So I’d say it worked out fine. I should actually applaud you for finding me this quickly, and for breaking through my barrier. Now if you have no more use for Megumi, do inform your big, fat blood-sucking bird flying above my property to return my witch to me.”

You father’s mouth sliced upwards. “I see your perception has not dulled with age, Six Eyes. Though it will make no difference after I’m done with you.”

Another figure swooped down from the sky, pale and slender, dropping next to Sukuna. 

“My king.” Uraume bowed, and then did the same to you. “Princess. I apologise for the wait.”

But you weren’t focused on any part of Uraume other than what they were holding. Bound with ropes, a gag in his mouth, was Megumi, dangling off the ground as Uraume held him up like hunted game. 

“Has the Six Eyes agreed to the terms yet?” Uraume asked, flatly. 

“I doubt he has a choice, unless he doesn’t mind me gutting his little witch and feeding its intestines to my hellhounds.”

“Father—“ you started, but cut yourself short before you said something damning. It was bad enough that you were wearing Satoru’s coat, and your father was a man who never missed a thing…and it’s implications. “I—he didn’t hurt me.”

All four of Sukuna’s eyes slid towards you, narrowing slightly, as if he saw right through your words. “We shall talk, daughter. But later. I have a bargain I wish to strike with the Six Eyes.”

Satoru’s laugh was humourless. “Bargain? I don’t recall inviting you over for tea and cakes. I called you here to kill you, King of the Night. To fight. One on one. Slayer and blood-sucker.”

Sukuna smirked. “But the battle has already begun, slayer. And you have already lost. Why do you think my daughter hasn’t tried to run to my side? Are you so obsessed with killing me that your Six Eyes can see nothing else?”

Satoru fists clenched. “You killed Suguru.”

“He burnt my wife on a pyre.”

You froze.

Your father had never spoken about your mother before. All this time, he’d led you to believe you were the product of an affair with a low-born vampire. That he’d abandoned her but took you in and raised you as his heir. You didn’t even know her name, if she was even alive and wandering about New Transylvania while you were growing up in a castle with an army of servants at your beck and call. That she’d died. 

“You’ve been a thorn in my side, and menace to my kind for long enough, Six Eyes. It’s time to end this,” Sukuna said, the tips of his claws growing longer and longer to sharpened points. “Listen well, Satoru Gojo, because I will not be so generous if I have to repeat myself again. You will surrender yourself. Willingly. In exchange, I will not kill your little witch. You will be coming with me to my castle, where you will await your execution in front of all my subjects. Uraume will stay here until I have sent word. You will be dead by then, but the boy will be freed.”

What? Your body went rigid. No… 

Megumi bit out a muffled protest and shook his head violently. 

Your legs moved towards your father. Past Satoru, who didn’t stop you. 

“There’s no need for this,” you said. “He was going to let me go when you arrived. Leave him here. We’ll go back home. He won’t come after us, I promise.”

Sukuna glanced down at you, his gaze softening momentarily. But he said, “I do not wish to perpetuate this blood feud any longer, and the only way this ends is with his death. You should have a clean slate when you ascend the throne.”

“I don’t want you to kill him—“

“Not here, daughter. Not now.”

“But I—he and I… I think he’s—“

“Fine,” you heard Satoru say behind you. He sighed. “Have it your way. But if I see Megumi in hell, I will personally come back as a very annoying ghost and haunt you for eternity, which is a long time for someone like you.”

You spun, a horrible pit forming in your stomach. “Don’t,” you said. “You don’t have to do this. You don’t—I can’t let you—“

But Satoru wouldn’t meet your eyes. Instead, he turned to Megumi, still gagged and bound, and said, “Remember to spell the roses. Don’t let them die.” Then he yawned, and stretched his arms over his head. “Alright, shall we get moving before I fall asleep? It’s been a long night.”

The entire castle was convinced you had gone mad. 

The princess… reading? Surely you were not the same vampire they knew. The only times you’d ever stepped foot in the library was during lessons. Even then, you’d always convinced your tutors to conduct them in the gazebo, or while you strolled around your gardens, half listening to whatever they were droning on about. You had not seen a point in suffocating yourself among stale air and dusty tomes when you could be outside with the moon and stars. 

That dastardly Six Eyes must have switched you with someone else, everyone thought. Their Crown Princess was gifted in many things—lounging, frolicking, taking long milk baths and ordering the servants around—but academics was not one of them. 

So it was no wonder you had everyone perplexed, and frankly, immensely concerned, when you arrived back at the castle and proceeded to lock yourself up in the library every single night without fail. It had reached a point where you’d ordered for all of your meals to be taken there, and for a cot to be set up so you wouldn’t have to make the long trip back to your quarters when your eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. 

Because, for once in your immortal existence, you had work to do. That, and you had to preoccupy yourself with something, anything, to keep you from agonising over the fact that Satoru was rotting away in the dungeons below. 

Your father had given explicit orders that no one was to visit the Six Eyes until the Red Feast, which was to be the night of his execution. Not even to sneer or spit in his face. And no matter what you said, or how you said it, he wouldn’t change his mind. 

But tonight would be different. You’d done your research. You’d combed through every text on humans, on slayers, on the history of vampires, from ancient scripts to tomes heavier than a tombstone to the most obscure spell books, until finally finding a thread to follow. 

Slowly, laboriously, you put the pieces together. Slowly, you’d understood.

And now you would confirm it. 

When you entered your father’s chambers, you saw that the thick drapes were pulled open. He was by the window, back towards you, already dressed in ceremonial attire. The pale crimson glow of the blood moon, hanging low in the sky outside, glinted off the rubies embedded into the crown he wore. 

“We should have that talk,” you said, without greeting. He would have already guessed why you were here.

“It will have to wait.” He didn’t turn around. “The feast has begun. We have guests to entertain. You are to announce your chosen suitor tonight. The Zenin boy is dead, so I don’t expect it will be him. But it still doesn’t relieve you of the duty you must fulfil.”

“You are executing my bonded mate tonight, father. I think I deserve answers before you slice him in half.”

Sukuna stiffened slightly. “Are you certain you want to toss that term around so carelessly? Is this why you’ve taken a recent interest in books? I’d advice you not to trust everything you read.”

“Careless I may have been, but it is the truth. I cannot deny it. The same as I cannot deny an impending avalanche. He is my mate. You know this as well as I. Perhaps better.”

“And what makes you think I know anything about it?”

“Well, you should since you had one before. You had my mother. She was your mate, wasn’t she? Before you lost her. She may still be. I imagine a force this strong would be able to persist beyond death. It would explain why you’re always so sullen.”

“If you are hoping I will be persuaded into rescinding the execution, then I will have to disappoint you.”

“I am not hoping for anything. I swear to you I will do my duty and pick a suitor tonight. But first, I want answers.”

For a long while, Sukuna didn’t speak. Then he faced you, and nodded once. Barely. “Ask your questions,” he said. “And I will answer what befits answering.”

“Mother was human.”

“That is not a question.”

“And so am I. Not fully, but enough to… feel.”

“Still not a question.”

You approached him, peering up at his towering figure. “Those are facts, father. What I want to know is why—why would you deny me what completes my soul when you know what it’s like to have lost yours?”

You might have imagined it, but you thought you saw his expression soften. There and gone in less than a blink. 

“Because it is not what we are designed for,” he said. “You are a vampire, daughter. You have been raised as one, and will continue to be one for eons. Until the world had crumbled to ashes and dust, and still you will prevail. Humans are fleeting. They only serve us one purpose. You’d do well to understand this.”

“But Satoru is not fully human too, is he?”

The corners of Sukuna’s eyes tightened. “I do not know what he is—perhaps a sorcerer, but those have been extinct a long, long time ago. What I know is that he is mortal enough. His life is finite. To be rid of him now is a mercy, before the attachment grows. In this, you should trust me.”

“It is already irrefutable, father.” You took one of his hands in yours. The one he always favoured using to stroke your hair when you were little. “Was my mother burnt for being attached to you? Because the humans—this Suguru—found out she was involved not only with a vampire, but with their king?”

You felt his hand tense. Then his fingers wrapped around yours, gently. 

“Listen well, daughter, because I’m only going to say this once—“ Sukuna sighed, and it was the loosening of a breath you suspected he’d held in for a lifetime. “The last time I saw your mother was also the last time she saw you. We’d agreed that we would keep you away from anything to do with humans other than feeding on them. To have a relationship with your prey will only complicate things for you. But your mother could never stay away for long, so every few months, I’d visit her, and take her here. She would disguise herself as a servant and watch you from afar for a few hours. Then I would bring her back to the village before dawn. But on the last night—before she was condemned to die—a slayer saw her. Saw me with her. I wanted to go after the slayer, but she assured me nothing would come of it. She believed no harm would befall her because she was human. I shouldn’t have listened. That is the story. Satisfied?”

He let go of your hand and began striding out the room. “Come. We want to be fashionably late, but not rudely so.”

You followed after him. “So I’m not wrong. You can feel, too.”

A quiet scoff.

“Stare at something too long, daughter, and you will find it stares back.”

Satoru was brought out in chains. 

You hadn’t spoken to anyone since gracing the court with your presence, and had remained brooding in the throne beside your father’s on the elevated dias. Besides the occasional nod, all you did was stare at the roses in the garden—the customary location for the Red Feast—and the moon crowning the night sky, painted the same shade as the flowers you adored. 

Your mercurial demeanour did not go unnoticed, though no one dared comment on it. Especially in front of Sukuna, lest they wanted to end up staked in front of the castle gates. They must have assumed you were not too thrilled about having to pick another suitor since Naoya was no more. It was no secret that he’d been the closest candidate to becoming the prince consort. 

But the moment the music stopped, you sat up straighter. 

Two guards appeared, dragging Satoru through the hush of the parting crowd towards the dias. Heavy manacles bound his wrists and ankles. He was still in the same clothes from that night, now soiled and marred with dungeon filth, his snowy hair limp and matted against his head. 

It seemed your father had succeeded in making the infamous Six Eyes look as pathetic as possible on his last night alive, at least in appearance. But where he’d lost was in Satoru’s expression, for there was nothing pathetic about the resolve in his blue eyes.

Eyes that immediately, implicitly, found yours as he was made to kneel at the foot of the dias. 

A corner of his lips curved upwards.

“Good evening,” he said, gaze fixed entirely on you. “Nice place you’ve got here—beautiful.”

It took everything in you not to shoot up from your seat and run to him. You were clutching the armrests of the throne so hard that the wood started cracking. 

And the court must have seen it, because they took your reaction as their cue to hiss and jeer.

“He is distressing the princess!” someone shouted.

“Scum!”

“Rot in hell!”

“Kill him!”

“Enough,” Sukuna said. 

The silence that followed was instantaneous. 

Sukuna stood, and approached the edge of the dias in a single stride to peer down at Satoru. Your father had never been one to drag a moment with long speeches, preferring to cut straight to the crux of the matter. In this, he was no different.

“I won’t ask if you have any last words, because they are not important,” he said, cold and imperious. “What matters is that with your death, we shall finally have some semblance of peace.”

Sukuna held out his hand. Another guard appeared, hurrying up the dias with a large case, and from it, your father pulled out a simple longsword.

A sword with a blade of silver.

Gasps escaped the gathered court, more than a few retreating back a few steps. 

Sukuna ignored them, and continued. “You will die tonight, Six Eyes, by the very weapon slayers like you use to kill our kind.” He stepped down the dias. “Guards, prepare him.”

You watched as Satoru was forced to bend over on his knees. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t hear anything past the roaring storm in your head, the pounding in your chest. You tore your gaze from Satoru to the blade your father was raising high in the air, positioned for a clean cut.

“Let’s get it over with,” Sukuna said.

He brought the blade down. 

“Wait!”

The blade halted, inches from Satoru’s neck.

You were standing. 

Your father was looking at you, and so was every member of the court. 

Satoru was looking at you.

You willed your voice to steady, and spoke. “I have decided on who is to be my betrothed, father. I wish to announce it.”

Sukuna frowned. “It can wait until after the execution.”

“No. It cannot.”

Your body was moving down the dias, then in front of the silver sword and your father.

“It cannot wait,” you said, “because I choose to be betrothed to Satoru Gojo.”

The escalation happened gradually. For awhile, the only sound was the wind as confusion washed through the entire court. They weren’t sure if they heard you right, only for realisation to hit like a hailstorm when you bent down and took Satoru’s face in your hands.

Ever so gently, you stroked his cheek.

“You’re right,” you whispered. “You and me—we were planned all along.”

Satoru stared at you, and in his eyes, you saw his ruination. 

His lips parted. “Princess, I—“

“Traitor!” 

Someone had stepped out of the crowd. Naobito Zenin. Head of the Zenin clan of vampires, and Naoyo’s father. 

“The princess is a traitor,” he seethed, jabbing a finger at you. “Now it makes sense. You think I’d accept that my son, a Zenin, would be killed so easily? She must have conspired with the Six Eyes to murder him. How else can a slayer known to be so incompetent kill so many of us? The princess was never captured. She was helping him. This whole time, she was fraternising with the enemy!”

His accusation seemed to embolden the crowd. Cries of protests resounded through the garden, and now that head of the second most powerful vampire family had denounced you in front of the king, the others were suddenly much braver. 

“Is this how you raised your daughter, King of the Night?” Naobito growled. “To turn against her own kind? To betray us for becoming a slayer’s whor—”

But Sukuna’s own growl shook the very cliff holding his castle. 

“You dare slander my daughter, Zenin?” Your father was no longer calm. “Open that despicable mouth of yours again and I will fill your throat with silver.”

Naobito dared laugh. “You will do nothing of the sort. She may be your daughter, but she’s just signed her own existence to dust. Or is our king not familiar with the law he created himself? Vampires are forbidden from fornicating with humans, on pain of death. She may be a princess, but she is not exempted from it.”

“He is my mate,” you hissed.

That shut Naobito up. But for only a second. Then his face morphed into something hideous. “You are smarter than I took you for—using our most sacred law to hide behind. There hasn’t been a bond amongst our kind in centuries, and even if it is true, merely declaring it will not save you and your human.”

“That is not what I’m declaring, you swine piss. You forget I also named him my betrothed.”

“Irrelevant. Our law forbids a human to sit on the throne—“

“God,” Satoru’s voice cut him short. “You vampires bicker more than my dead grandmother.” He was still on the ground, the manacles around his ankles keeping him from standing, but he straighten up as much as he could. “Look, there’s a simple way to solve this. Just do what you were going to do before and kill me. There, settled. Now you can all stop fighting over me. I will die, and the princess can go back to being a princess. Happy?”

“No.” You knew what he was trying to do, and you wouldn’t let him. You faced your father. “I do not expect you to break your own laws for me, father. So I will adhere to them,” you said. “Line six hundred sixty three to six hundred sixty six, passage thirty three, volume six of the First Scripture—if a bond is in doubt, then the bonded has the right to prove it by invoking the Sun Trial, after which the claimed bond cannot be refuted should they succeed.”

Sukuna said nothing while he studied you, mouth drawn in a tight line. But you’d caught it—the slight twitch at the corners, something almost akin to approval. He exhaled, quietly, then glanced at the guards.

“Release the human.”

Naobito’s fangs flashed. “This is treachery. I will not stand for this—“

“It is in our laws,” Sukuna interrupted. “Laws that you’ve been proclaiming to know better than me. Are you going to dismiss them now, Zenin?”

“The slayer is still human, and the princess has still committed treason. If you are too weak to strike your own daughter down, then I will do it for you.”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened, but he did not stoop to Naobito’s taunt. “By all means, kill her if you want,” he said. “But you will have to hunt her down first, in accordance with the Sun Trial. As for the human—“

The manacles around Satoru’s wrists had barely touched the ground when Sukuna stepped forward and, in one swift motion, pierced the silver blade through his stomach. 

Satoru’s eyes widened as he stared down at the blade pulling out of him. Stared at the dark gush of blood, pooling. Dripping onto the snow-covered ground before his own body fell, collapsing.

“No…” Everything in you shattered. “No, no, no…”

You dropped down next to Satoru. You were calling his name. Using your hands to staunch the blood, but it was futile. 

“The Six Eyes has received his punishment,” Sukuna declared. “The Sun Trial is now commenced. The Crown Princess and her mate will have to survive until the next nightfall, after which their bond will be recognised, and their union protected by our most sacred law. In the meantime, all vampires, from any status, will have free reign to hunt them down until dawn breaks.” He tossed the blade aside. “On your feet, daughter.”

You were shaking. You glared up at your father. “I will never forgive you for this.”

But Sukuna only peered down, cold and imperious.

“You do not need to,” he said. “Now run.”

At his words, you moved on instinct.

You shifted. Your wings unfurled. 

Then you were hauling Satoru up into the sky. 

You were going to die. 

“There,” you said, dragging Satoru behind a dense copse of trees. “We can’t stay long. You’re going to bleed out if we don’t get you to the village soon.”

“I’m… fine…”

“You’re dying, Satoru.”

“Dying… not dead…”

Gently, you leaned him against a tree trunk, and crouched down next to him. You tore more fabric off your skirt and added to the blood-soaked wrappings around Satoru’s stomach. 

Satoru winced as you knotted it tightly over his wound. His lips were pale, his breaths shallow and struggling. 

“You should go,” he said, finally stringing his sentences better now that he was resting.

“I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“We won’t reach the village… you know this.”

You did, but you wouldn’t accept it. You pressed your hands against his stomach, applying more pressure. “We’ll find a way,” you said. 

Flying was out of the question. The sky was infested with vampires. The entire court was out hunting for you, and if you so much as flapped your wings, they would surround you and that would be it. 

The only option was by foot. To dart between the cover of the forest, but darting implied you could move quickly, which wasn’t the case given Satoru’s worsening condition.

His eyes were falling shut.

You slapped his face.

“Don’t you dare close them,” you warned him, panicking. “Not now that I’ve carried your sorry ass halfway through this fucking forest.”

A weak chuckle. “A kiss would’ve been better.”

“I’ll kiss you after we’re done with this blasted trial. That way you’ll have something to look forward to.”

“What if… I say please?”

You hesitated, the thing in your chest you now recognised as your heart, twisting.

You leaned in, and brushed your lips against his. 

Satoru caught your mouth, deepening the kiss, and you couldn’t help but part for him. For his tongue to sweep in and claim you, long and slow, tender and painfully desperate.

“Like heaven…” he breathed. 

You stroked his cheek. “We should get going.”

“I think... I’ll stay here.”

“I told you I’m not—”

“Listen…”

“No. I’m helping you up. We’re going to keep moving—”

“I said listen…” He tilted his head up, and you realised then what he meant.

Because you heard it, too.

The lack of sound. No more flapping wings. No more screeching.

The sky was silent. 

Which only meant one thing.

Satoru’s gaze met yours again. “You have to go…”

But you’d known this would happen. Your plan hadn’t been to reach the village, but to get him as close as possible before sunrise. You’d perish, but at least there was a higher chance another human would pass through and find him. 

You steeled yourself, and took his arm. “Come on.”

“Princess—“

“Stop being so stubborn. How many times do I have to repeat that I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“I’m not… the stubborn one here…”

“Move, Satoru.”

But he refused, slumping his weight down further against the tree trunk. 

“I said move!”

“You move…”

“You stupid, stupid fool!” You wanted to slap him again, but then you thought he might just keel over and die just to prove a point. You dropped back down on the ground. “Fine. Stay if you want. So will I.”

He choked out a laugh. “Am I…so irresistible?” 

“You are annoying, that’s what.”

“Come here…”

You let him wrap you in his arms, careful to lean against him where you were sure he wouldn’t hurt. Snow was falling, the shadows of the forest shrinking as you sat with Satoru in silence. You sensed the uneven beat of his pulse slowing. 

“What is it like?” you asked. “The sun?”

“Nothing… compared to you.”

“You have to say that. We are bonded.”

“We don’t have to be… for me to think you’re… beautiful…”

You brushed away the hair on his face, and your fingers continued tracing down his jaw, over his lips, as if memorising very line and curve of the man you were supposed to kill. The human who was supposed to be your prey. The slayer you were supposed to despise. The mortal you were never supposed to give up eternity for.

“Well, Satoru Gojo,” you whispered. “You’ve done it. You’ve vanquished me.”

His breaths were slow, the lids of his eyes heavy. But he smiled. “How cruel of me.”

A pale, golden glow broke through the trees. You stared at it, entranced, watching the snow covering the forest floor shimmer. Watched the skeletal branches of the barren trees lighten, the texture on the barks growing defined. 

You watched the sunlight, and it was everything you’d imagined it to be.

You skin started to prickle. 

Then it was searing. 

You crumpled inwards. Your whimpers turned into cries into screams. It was like being tossed into a flaming hearth. Like having the constant lick of fire against your skin, eating you to the bone.

The pain… it was excruciating. 

You didn’t notice Satoru shifting until he was on top of you. Until the burning ebbed slightly and you found his body curled over your own. In that moment, you realised why he hadn’t wanted to move. With his own broad frame, and the shadows casted by the closely packed trees, he’d created a shield for you.

But light was ever fluid, and it leaked into the crevices of your shelter. Biting. Gnawing. Like the scraping of a candle flame against the bare spots of your skin. 

“Be still,” Satoru breathed. “Or it will… be worse.”

“It hurts…”

“You’ll be alright… you have… me…” He pulled you in tighter underneath him. “Talk to me… tell me something…”

He was trying to distract you, but you couldn’t think past the burning. 

“I’ll go first,” he said. “The night we met… I think I was already in love with you, but I… I couldn’t admit it… After Suguru’s death, I went mad… Megumi… he warned me against it, but I… wouldn’t listen… I sneaked into Sukuna’s castle… and saw you…”

It was too painful to speak, so you just whimpered. 

Satoru continued, “You were in the garden… in a red dress surrounded by red roses… and I think… I made up that plan partly to… give myself an excuse to see you again… to keep coming back…”

He told you about the first time he saw you fly. That he’d almost ran out of his hiding place when he saw you throw yourself out a window, and then almost given himself away a second time when he heard you laughing as you swooped up into the sky. So beautiful. So free. 

He also told you about the first time he saw you feed, and how he realised he could never have you. That he had planted roses in his own garden to remind himself you had thorns. That you were his enemy. That he tried to hate you, everyday, but always ended up failing spectacularly. 

The sunlight was blinding now, seeping through your lids and frying your eyeballs. Your muscles were screaming, your bones were melting, your body a shaking ball of flame beneath him. 

Every time you thought this was it, Satoru would tell you to hold on. Every time you were about to give in and start flailing, Satoru would tell you it was almost over. Just a little while more, he’d say. The sun was coming down, he’d promised. 

Somewhere in between, the agony and the solid weight of his body had melded together, and you could no longer tell one from the other. Time was an unending void, and the lure of death was tasting much, much sweeter.

But then the light began to wane. The scorching brightness behind your eyes dimmed. The flames scorching you alive eased to sweltering to prickling to a cool, winter’s breeze that had you doubting if you were still of this world.

Your eyes squinted open, and the dark veil of night greeted you once again.

“S-Satoru?” you croaked out. 

He didn’t answer. You didn’t remember when he’d stopped speaking, and you were suddenly conscious of his full weight pressing down on you. 

Struggling, you slowly lifted him off you. His body fell limp on the snow, and your hands were on him.

“Satoru,” you shook him. “Satoru, wake up. It’s night.”

Silence. 

“Wake up.”

You shook him harder. 

“Wake up!”

Nothing. 

You stared at him, and there would never be anything more profound than that of your heart shattering. 

“I thought you were beautiful, too,” you whispered, stroking his face. Skin was peeling off your hands like scrolls of burnt parchment, brittle and grey, but you were numb to everything but him. 

You leaned down, and spoke against his still lips.

“Whatever I have been searching for in the skies, I now know it is you.” You kissed him. “Please, come back to me.”

You felt it then. The whisper of a pulse. Barely there. A thread away from snapping. 

He was still alive. 

You didn’t hesitate. Your fingers morphed into claws, tearing into your skin.

Red, dark and fresh, streamed down your palm. You held up his head, parted his lips, and let your blood flow into his mouth, down his throat.

And you waited. For his pulse to stop and the thread of his mortal life to snap, and when it did, the change was immediate.

His fair skin, once the dull, matted tint of a human’s, took on the pale, ethereal sheen of moonlight. His stark white hair was glossier, thicker, the lines of his handsome face sharpening to an incredible definition, and there behind his parting lips—thin and pointed and drenched with your blood—were the beginnings of fangs.

A cough. A splutter.

Blue eyes fluttered awake, peering up at you. And they were now a blue so impossible, it drowned you. 

“So it is done.” 

The voice who spoke did not belong to Satoru, but to the immortal who had appeared, as silent as death itself. 

The night seemed to bend around your father as he stepped towards you.

“The Sun Trial had ended, and so has this ridiculous feud,” Sukuna said, crimson eyes settling on you and Satoru. “You have made your choice, daughter. And now, he will make his.”

Satoru sat up, still dazed. He stared at you, then at Sukuna, then at himself—at the subtle glow of his skin, the new movement his hands made as he turned them in front of his face, at the wound on his stomach, no longer bleeding. His gaze found yours again.

“You—you turned me into—“

“She did you a favour, slayer,” Sukuna said. “You would have died either way—I made sure of it. And you are not a vampire yet until you have fed.”

“I did not ask for this.”

“Then go ahead and die for all I care. Do you really think it is so simple to become one of us? If it was the case, there would be many more of us and less of you.”

Sukuna tossed a vial of red liquid onto the snow.

“A vampire can only turn a human once in their entire existence, and my daughter has, for better or worse, chosen you. I cannot fathom why—she’s always had bad taste in men—but in doing so, you now have a luxury even kings cannot claim.” He gestured at the vial. “So choose. Do your treasure your mortality so much you would die for it, or do you treasure my daughter more than life?”

But your father’s words swam in your head.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” you said, fixing him with a look that dared him to deny it. “You waited to execute Satoru so I would find a way to save him. You rearranged the books in the library knowing I would come across the Sun Trial and invoke it. You stabbed him with that sword knowing I would choose to turn him.”

Sukuna merely regarded you, calmly, and said, “If you believe I would go to such lengths for you, my daughter, then I will take it as a compliment.” But you saw the tell-tale sign in his jaw. The feather of a twitch. 

There was no point in wringing it out of your father, so instead, you took Satoru’s hands in yours. 

“Despise me if you must,” you said. “Whatever you choose, I will accept it—I will accept it if you take the blood and leave me. I will accept it if you don’t and leave me. But what I cannot accept is not telling you that I love you. I will never stop. You are the shape of my soul, until I am beyond dust. Until time unending.”

Snow fell in the space between you and him. Satoru looked at you, quietly. Completely. For a long while, he didn’t speak. 

Then he sighed. “Megumi’s going to throw a fit.”

Satoru pulled you against him, and like the force that drew you hopelessly together, your mouths found one another, and it was a kiss to end all that was before, and all that would come after. There was only him and you, and two halves of a desperate wish finally becoming whole. 

“My princess,” he murmured against your lips. “You are the cruelest of them all—making me love you for eternity.”

“Do you not want to?”

“I cannot help it.”

You smiled, and kissed him again.

Sukuna cleared his throat. “If you are done slobbering all over my daughter, slayer, then get it over with. I have other pressing matters than standing here and regretting I didn’t separate your head from your body.”

Satoru simply stuck out his hand.

“Then toss the vial over here, old man. As you can see, the princess is clearly incapable of letting me go just yet.”

It was a time of peace, at least for the humans. The legend of the supposedly incompetent yet deadly Six Eyes had become exactly that—a legend. 

New Transylvania had a vampire prince. A prince who only drank donated blood, and only from his jewel-encrusted goblet. A prince who carried a silver sword around, impaling any immortal who dared step foot across the village borders. A prince whom the vampire king received complaints about to no end. A prince who, everyone and the king himself knew, they would be stuck with for the rest of time, because their beloved (unless one wanted to be staked) princess loved him with all her heart. 

And it was glaringly obvious the prince loved her in return, because he made sure to remind everyone of it—the court, the servants, the guards, and any unlucky creature who had the misfortune of hearing them. Every. Single. Night.

“That’s it, princess. God, you’re so fucking tight I’m going crazy,” he groaned as he pounded you against the library stacks. “Go on, let them know who your perfect pussy belongs to.”

“Ahn! Yes! Satoru—fuck—fuck me harder!”

“Who’s cock do you love? Say it.”

“I love Satoru Gojo’s cock!”

It would continue like this for hours, sometimes until dawn, rendering whatever room or hallway the both of you were fucking in completely inaccessible. And if it was out in the gardens, then the castle occupants had the option to stay indoors, or stay outside and have Sukuna pluck out their eyes later. 

Eventually, when even the king’s own ears were staring to bleed, he was forced to hold an intervention with you and Satoru, to establish certain boundaries. Those boundaries being sending the both of you away to torture Megumi instead at Satoru’s estate every fortnight. 

“After you, my love.” Satoru was grinning as he held out a hand.

You took it, and let him help you up the tower’s ledge. Felt his arms winding around your waist, pressing your back against him. 

His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Shall I catch you?”

“You’re not fast enough.”

“Really? Then I suppose you’ve conveniently forgotten about all the other times I was.”

“Not tonight.” You smiled as you pushed him away, and leapt off the ledge. 

You heard his laughter follow behind.

Wings spread, you soared up high, and chanced a look back.

Only to find him swerving around and in front of you with swift, leathery wings. But unlike your own—the colour of smoke and shadows—his were silvery white, pale as the moon that watched him pull you against him in the air.

He kissed you, deep and slow, like he had all the time in the world. Like the infinite times he did before and the infinite times he would after. 

“It’s not so bad,” he whispered.

“What is?”

A million stars gleamed in his impossible blue eyes. Satoru smiled.

“Forever.”

thank you for reading to the end ilyyy! i originally intended for this fic to be short, but then i caught worldbuilding disease and now it's a whole soulmate arc >.< what do you think? i'd love to know your thoughts ♡

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