#dasterweek24

Though, admittedly, he’s never genuinely loved anyone before. He has a deep respect for Huey. Morvay is… well, Morvay. And Eiden fills him with a fondness he had long since forgotten. So why has the Sun Lord of all people managed to capture his affection? Dante is rude, abrasive, and stubborn. He thinks too highly of himself for his tender age. Sure, he may be loyal, dedicated to his people, and incredibly intelligent and hardworking, but he still has more faults than positives. Or not. Aster knows he’s just making excuses to himself. The heat is clouding his mind, and the flowers are filling his insides. Presently, he has no leg to stand on. He should have taken a carriage.

Aster sees a figure approaching on the horizon and he thinks the heat has finally finished him off. The mirages are becoming more convincing now as his head swims and his footsteps slow to a snail’s pace. He drops to his knees, the hot desert sand stinging his delicate skin, and retches. Flower petals spill from his lips and his throat burns. The petals decorate the ground in front of him, a beautiful mix of yellows, reds, and oranges. I’ve lived a long enough life, he thinks. It’s longer than a human’s, though centuries shorter than that of the average vampire. Perhaps this is some sort of divine retribution brought on by the God of Klein? Aster isn’t sure what he could have done that would earn him a death such as this, but he’s sure there’s something. Greed? Possibly.

“Vampire!” a voice shouts.

Ah. The auditory hallucinations are kicking in. Aster won’t make it to nightfall, let alone the Solarian capital. He blinks blearily at the hazy shape of… someone. He can’t quite tell who. There’s a hot hand pressed against his forehead, but it feels cool against his heated skin. His chin is forcibly tilted up and—oh! Water. The cool liquid slides down his throat and dribbles from the corners of his mouth. His tongue feels alive once more and the feeling of sand coating his insides slowly evaporates. Aster blinks again and swears he can make out a set of mismatched eyes. But why would the Sun Lord be here?

Strong arms wrap around his body, lifting him off the ground. The last of Aster’s energy whittles away and he transforms back into a bat. A cloth is thrown over him, shielding him from the hot, desert sun, and everything goes black.

“You’ll be safe soon,” he hears, just before passing out.

When Aster comes to, he’s laid out on silken bedsheets in an elegantly decorated room. There’s a pitcher of water on the bedside table, along with an ornate chalice. He’s thirsty, but not for water. Aster coughs, spilling petals onto the bed. They look almost as if they belong there, yet somehow, not quite right. Ah. False sunflowers. Now it makes sense. An Aster who loves feels like an imposter. He does not know this version of himself.

“You’re awake.”

His gaze flits across the room to a figure standing in the doorway. Dante approaches with a stern look in his eyes. Aster sighs, burying himself into the pillows. “I suppose I have you to thank for rescuing me from the desert.”

Dante takes a seat on the edge of the bed, inches from Aster’s body. “You sound awfully full of yourself for someone that was dying of heatstroke a few hours ago. You must be feeling better.”

Aster hums. “Mostly. I could use a drink.” Dante reaches for the pitcher and Aster throws his hand out to stop him. “Not that kind of drink.”

Dante hesitates. His attention is pulled elsewhere when he notices the flower petals on the bed. “Where did these come from? I saw them at your feet in the desert as well.”

Aster sighs. He drapes his arm over his eyes in a poor attempt to hide himself away. “From me. I have the flowering disease.” He says it casually, an attempt to play it off for less than what it is, but inside, his anxieties are screaming. Just because he’s been rescued from the desert doesn’t mean he’s out of the woods. There’s still a guillotine waiting to fall on his neck.

The mattress shifts and Dante lifts Aster’s arm. Their faces are close. Dante caresses Aster’s cheek with his thumb, concern etched on his brow. “Who?”

“What?” Aster asks dumbly.

“Who has managed to capture your heart?”

Aster decides to play coy. He’s too tired and hungry for such a serious conversation. Either he tells Dante, and his feelings are accepted, ridding him of the flowering disease, or he tells Dante, and he is rejected, ensuring his demise. He’ll find out the answer soon enough. Instead, he says, “Let me drink from you, then I’ll tell you.”

Aster opens his eyes to see Dante above him, tanned skin flushed with a faint shade of red. His tattoos shine against his copper skin and he turns his head to hide his embarrassment. Aster laughs softly, reaching up to press his palm against Dante’s cheek and turn his head back to face him. “You’re irresistible when you’re embarrassed.”

Dante huffs once, then leans back on the balls of his feet. “Tonight’s about you, not me.”

“Can’t it be both?” Aster asks.

Dante pretends to think about it for a moment before he says, “Maybe.” He slides further down the futon and leans impossibly close, peppering Aster’s body in kiss marks as he makes his way south. Dante hesitates, not one to usually initiate oral sex, then wraps his lips around the head of Aster’s dick, lapping his tongue over the crown.

Aster groans softly, arching his neck to tip his head back into the pillows. He feels the glide of Dante’s tongue along the underside of his shaft as he works his mouth down to the base. It’s warm and wet and oh so good. He can’t get enough of the feeling. Aster wraps his fingers in red hair, scratching lightly against Dante’s scalp. There’s a hum around his cock and he moans at the vibration. A squelching noise coming from somewhere other than the saliva-slicked lips around his dick draws his attention. He lowers his gaze to see Dante working himself open. He really is eager, thinks Aster.

“I could have done that.”

Dante pulls his head back with a pop of the lips. He scowls at Aster as he repositions himself over Aster’s waiting cock. “I said it’s about you, not me. I want to take care of you for once.”

Hot.

Dante sucks in a sharp breath as he lowers himself onto Aster. The ring of muscle stretches and sucks him in. Aster’s hand falls to Dante’s hip for support and he moves the other one up. It’s tight. Dante didn’t stretch himself wide enough, but it doesn’t stop Aster. He helps lower the Sun Lord until he bottoms out, sitting perfectly in Aster’s lap.

“I’ve got it from here,” says Dante.

“Are you sure?” asks Aster, more than willing to take over.

“Yes,” says Dante as he raises his hips then lowers them again. He’s determined. That’s for sure. “You just lay there and let me take care of you.”

“Where was he?” asked Aster.

“He was rummaging through the trash near the monster paddock.”

“What a terrible choice of location to go dumpster diving,” Aster mused.

“I agree, sir.”

“You,” Aster pointed at the boy. “What is your name?”

The boy scowled up at Aster from his spot on the floor. He stood and dusted himself off. A haughty arrogance radiated from his posture as he said, “Dante.”

“Mm…” Aster hummed to himself as he walked closer. He stood a head taller than Dante and pressed his index finger to the underside of the boy’s chin, tilting his head up to get a better look at him. “Where are your parents?”

Dante pulled his chin away and his lips curled into a sneer. “Dead.”

Not surprising. There were many orphaned children in Klein. However, an orphaned noble in the Light Territory was cause for concern. Aster would have heard rumors through the gossip mill. He prided himself on his information gathering skills. Knowledge was worth its weight in gold. Aster let out a breath and waved his hand. Oliver nodded his head and exited the library, leaving them alone together.

“How old are you?” asked Aster.

“Thirteen,” said Dante, arms folded across his. “Where did that other guy go?”

Aster turned away, letting his gaze fall on the large picture window behind the chair he had been sitting in. “He went to clean up the mess you made coming in here.”

“It’s not like I came inside by choice,” huffed Dante.

“Yeah, yeah.” Aster wet his lips and ran his tongue over his fangs. Dante’s blood, pulsing just below the surface, smelt heavenly. “I’m willing to offer you a place to stay,” he said.

Dante’s skepticism was apparent in his voice as he asked, “Why would you do that? You don’t know me?”

Aster turned around with a smile. “I’m a man of action and money. I know a good deal when I see one and you look like a worthwhile investment. Judging by your appearance and the fact that you were rifling through our trash, you likely have nowhere to go. You can stay here as one of my servants until you come of age. What you decide to do after that is up to you.”

Conflict was etched on Dante’s face as he weighed Aster’s words carefully. “You’ll… You’ll really let me stay here? Just like that?”

Aster shrugged. “It’s hard work but it’s modest work. If you agree, Oliver won’t go easy on you. But you’ll receive food and clothing, a bed to sleep in, and a fair wage. I just have one question.”

“What is it?”

“Where do you come from?”

Dante opened his mouth to answer then promptly snapped his jaw shut. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, mulling over how best to respond. “I can’t say. I’m sorry. I’ll go.” For a proud, filthy orphan, Dante hung his head dejectedly and spun on his heel to head out the same way he came in.

Aster set a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Dante looked back from over his shoulder and his eyes widened at the sight of Aster’s smile. “That’s fine. You don’t need to leave. You told me everything I need to know.” Dante arched his brows in confusion and Aster laughed to himself. “You have peculiar eyes.” One chestnut brown. The other a tourmaline blue-green.

“I was born with them,” said Dante.

“Obviously.” Aster gave Dante’s shoulder a nudge forward. “Anyway, that’s all. If you head out of the library door Oliver should be waiting. He’ll take you to the servants’ quarters.”

#

Dante was entertaining to watch. Aster couldn’t help but stifle laughs whenever he saw the boy in the manor. He had an odd air of dignity about him mixed with the resilience of someone that has had to work hard throughout their short life. He was strong and didn’t give up on a task until he’d completed or mastered it. Aster wondered what sort of hobbies or skills he was taught before his parents died. Whatever it was, it carried over in his work. He was dressed less formally than the rest of the manor staff, wearing a plain white tunic and a pair of dark slacks. The shirt was loose on his small body but there was the faint underlying of developing muscles peeking through. If Dante were diligent in his work, he would be thick with muscles when he grew up.

They didn’t speak often, but Aster would occasionally visit the library ‘by chance’ when Oliver was busy helping Dante study. He would sit in the corner of the library in his large pink chair and watch from over the top of his book as Dante scribbled away on parchment paper to ensure he continued his education. Aster would pass Oliver documents on geography and trade agreements to assess Dante’s knowledge during his lessons.

It only took Aster a few weeks to confirm his suspicions. Word had spread throughout the continent about the Lord and Lady of Solaria being assassinated. The rumors were unconfirmed, but it was assumed that their only son had been murdered as well. His body went missing after the attack. One look at Dante and Aster knew he had to be the missing boy. His dark skin was far less common in areas like the Light Territory where the weather was cool and more forgiving. His eyes, however, were the biggest giveaway. Aster knew a gemstone when he saw one. He had to protect the boy for Huey’s sake. Dante would be needed once his master had returned from wherever he’d flittered off to.

Aster wasn’t worried. As long as Dante remained in his household, no one would bother him and since he was part of the servant staff, nobles wouldn’t pay him any attention. He would be safe. His biggest problem was the current state of affairs in the Fire Territory.

#

It was a lot of grueling work on Aster’s part to gain influence in the Fire Territory. He had secured a significant foothold in the nation that lasted for years to come. All the while, he watched as Dante continued to grow and mature into the young man Aster knew he would become. He was taller now, more refined, unafraid to speak his mind, and he was strong. The maids loved him. They were always going on about him, pleased to have someone so able-bodied to assist with the demanding work that needed to be done.

Morvay was obsessed with him. Under Aster’s orders, he never came onto him, though the thought had obviously crossed his mind. There was a strict policy in place about not getting involved with the staff. Aster had a reputation to uphold. Aster watched as Dante fed Momo and the others. He had a way with the monsters that was second only to Aster. He scratched Momo behind the ears and the damn beast made a sound akin to a purr. Momo never made that noise for Aster. He was totally not jealous. Not jealous at all.

As Aster sat lounging in a chair in the garden, Morvay came up to him with a letter in hand. “A message from the fox.”

Aster rolled his eyes. “What could he possibly want? It’s been nearly twenty years.”

Morvay shrugged, handing Aster the envelope. Aster opened it with a quick swipe of his fingernail.

Vampire, I thought you would like to know that rumors have begun to spread. It seems people are starting to wonder where the treasure you picked up a few years back came from. It matters little to me, but even the yokai have begun to question why the altar in the Fire Nation hasn’t been regulated in years. Which, annoyingly, does pose a problem for the rest of us. I’d rather not have to deal with it myself. If I have to leave the Wood Territory, I will be greatly displeased. Be a good familiar and handle it. -Kuya

Aster rolled his eyes and handed the letter back to Morvay who quickly read it before speaking. “He’s as pleasant as always.”

Aster nodded. “Indeed. Though, I loathe to admit that he’s right. The altar was an oversight on my part.”

Morvay took a seat in the chair next to Aster. He shredded the letter. “Are you going to tell Dante you know who he is? He’s of age now.”

“Not yet.” Aster shook his head. Dante had not once brought up the subject in his years of servitude in Aster’s manor. They would have to manage regulating the altar without him. If he wasn’t ready to face his past, Aster wouldn’t push the subject.

#

Aster sat in the chair by his bedroom window, reading a book in the moonlight. Weariness and fatigue had become his friends as of late. Familiars weren’t meant to regulate gemstone altars, and his essence was nearly depleted. He’d only managed because Morvay assisted him. Though getting into Solaria was no easy feat. Aster didn’t have enough energy to go out in search of food. Morvay, on the other hand, was likely flitting about the capital replenishing his essence at that very moment. Sometimes, very rarely, Aster envied him. Maybe he was getting old.

There was a knock at the door which was odd for the given hour. The staff were all off at this time of night, save for Oliver who would only dare knock in the event of an emergency.

“Come in,” said Aster, weakly.

The door opened to reveal Dante, still dressed from the day, bathed in moonlight. “Master Aster,” he said, “apologies for the late interruption.”

Aster waved him in. Dante shut the door and crossed the room. “Sit,” said Aster. Dante took a seat in the chair across from him. “What is it?”

Dante squirmed in his seat, plagued with indecision. He sat there in silence for several minutes before he finally spoke. “I heard you went to the Fire Territory.”

“I did. The gemstone altar was dangerously overdue for being regulated. Since Master is gone and the Solarian royal family was killed, the responsibility fell on the dumbass incubus and me.”

Dante folded his hands together in his lap. His gaze drifted out the window to the large moon hanging in the sky. “You know, right?”

“Pardon?”

“Who I am?”

Aster hummed. “That depends. If you intend to remain a member of my household, then I have no clue what you are talking about.”

“And if I leave?” asked Dante.

“I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Dante studied him, a frown forming on his lips. “You seem pale.”

“I’m always pale,” Aster quipped.

Dante rolled his eyes. “More than usual.”

“I am rather low on essence at the moment and do not have the energy to replenish it.”

Dante was quiet again. A faint dusting of red burned its way across his tanned cheeks. “I could help you.”

Aster shook his head with a soft chuckle. “I don’t involve myself with the staff. I’ll have Oliver fetch someone for me in the morning.”

“And if I’m no longer staff?”

Aster arched a brow. A small smile played at his lips, and he sighed. “If you’re no longer staff, then what are you?”

Dante looked a little more confident. He drew his shoulders back and stuck his chest out. That former, dignified air about him returned as he ran his fingers through his long, copper hair. “Master Aster, as the rightful heir to the throne of Solaria, I wish to formally tender my resignation. I appreciate all you’ve done for me over the years, but it’s time I stopped hiding who I am, and I’d like to return your kindness.”

Aster patted Dante’s knee. “You can hand a proper resignation letter to Oliver in the morning.”

“And tonight?”

“Tonight, I suppose, I shall indulge the child I’ve raised the last several years for being such a dutiful employee.”

“I’m not a child anymore,” said Dante petulantly.

“To me, most people are children. But you’re right, you’ve grown into a healthy, young man.” Aster stood and moved to his bed. He motioned for Dante to join him. “Come.”

Dante did, crossing the room in quick strides. He sat on the bed, looking suddenly nervous once more.

“Is it your first time?” asked Aster.

Dante nodded.

Aster purses his lips, stifling a laugh. “Is that so?”

Dante nods. “I can’t believe the prettiest person in the universe is sitting next to my bed. I must be dead.”

“Not dead,” says Aster.

“Are you an angel? Where are your wings, pretty angel?”

“Do you know who I am?” asks Aster, ignoring the ‘angel’ question.

“An angel?” repeats Dante.

Aster shakes his head and holds up his hand. There’s a thin, rose-gold band around his finger.

“Oh my god, you’re married! The prettiest angel in the world would be married. I can’t believe I tried to flirt with a married angel.” Dante’s lashes darken with tears, and he buries his face in his hands. “There’s no point in living now.”

Aster’s cheeks ache from the smile he fights back as he continues to suppress his laughter. It isn’t fair to laugh but oh boy does he want to. “I have a pretty hardheaded husband. He doesn’t like to listen to me and thinks he can do everything on his own.”

Dante lifts his head; tears track down his cheeks and his eyes are blazing. “You should leave him. Leave him and marry me. I’ll treat you right. Please, sweet angel?” He’s begging. Actually begging. Dante never begs. It’s unbecoming.

Aster decides to spare him any further humiliation and reaches for his hand. He lifts Dante’s left hand up to show the matching ring on his finger. He gasps.

“I’m married! I can’t believe I was flirting with a stranger, and I’m married. I’m sorry, angel. I can’t be with you after all.”

Aster can’t contain himself any further. He keels over, laughing into his legs with tears in his eyes. When he lifts his gaze, Dante is staring at him, perplexed. Aster taps both their rings to show they match, and it slowly starts to click for the man in the bed.

“We’re married?” he asks in disbelief.

Aster nods.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe I’m married to an angel.”

Dante’s gaze grows distant as he muses to himself over the revelation that they’re married. He mutters incoherently, then drifts off to sleep again. Aster shifts in his chair, turning away from Dante to Eiden who is standing in the corner of the room. “Did you get all that?” he asks.