#mayday7dwc

Day 7 Punish/Infinite @daily-writing-challenge with mentions of @lukel-sunshadow and @sanguinesorceress

It had been weeks since the moment Vaelsnipe had stood hidden at the edge of the Ghostlands, watching from the trees as Mizereem manifested to meet the Sorceress at that bridge that gaped between life and undeath.

She was a threat. That much had been clear. The way her voice coiled with power, the way even the air around her seemed to curl back in fear. Lukel, no, Mizereem had stepped between him and danger, and for the first time since their bond had begun, Vael felt it. Not fear. Not anger. Not even the old ache of betrayal. It was jealousy. Ugly and acidic, unfamiliar as a wound in a place he'd never been cut before.

He hadn’t even known what it was until Mizereem turned those pale eyes on him later, leading him far from the bridge and asking, demanding, to know why. Why had he followed and hidden himself. Why had he put himself at risk. Why his breath was fire and his jaw clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might break.

And damn him, Vaelsnipe had lied at first. Something about strategy. About not wanting to appear weak. But the truth clawed out from under his ribs like something feral. "I watched you speak to her like an equal," he'd said, voice sharp and brittle. "Like someone who deserved your full presence."

It was a child's wound from a man who had bled on battlegrounds. It was rediculous and yet it burned through his veins and he could not help it. But Mizereem hadn’t mocked him. He’d touched him. Softly. As if the monster, the Butcher, knew this wasn’t just about jealousy. It was about longing. About wanting all of someone, even the parts that had been buried deep in blood and silence.

Vael remembered Mizereem’s voice then... deep, rough as gravel dragged through fire, telling him he had never looked at her the way he looked at him. That she had never kissed his face, had never held his attention, his reverence, his hunger. That every facet of himself had come out that night to stand between Vaelsnipe and death because he loved him.

And in that moment, everything in Vael’s world tilted.

The punishment of jealousy wasn’t doled out by Mizereem, it was internal. It was the sting of realizing how much he needed someone. Of wanting something that deep. It was the ache of desire twisted by fear, fear that he wasn't enough to call all of Lukel's terrible and beautiful self his own.

But Mizereem didn’t punish him for feeling. No. He rewarded him.

That night, when Mizereem took him home, he wasn't met with cruelty, not with dominance, but with awe. With reverence. The Butcher, the thing that had carved his name into bones and blood, gave himself willingly, fully, and whispered “I love you” into the quiet between breaths.

Vael thought of that now, alone in the dark, hand brushing absently over the place where Mizereem had once pressed his own. There were parts of love that still scared him. That clawed at him with restless hunger and left him raw.

But he would never forget what it felt like to be the reason infinity bowed down. To be the only one the monster had ever chosen to be soft for.