#heaveninhell | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loveyou-x3000 · 2 years

Text

Burn

by @loveyou-x3000 & @heavenin--hell for @inuparentsday 2022

The Inu no Taisho warns his lover of the war to come.

Rated: M Words: 1360 Pairing: Inu no Taisho / Izayoi

A short story to celebrate InuParents Day 2022! Even if we are a little bit late. 😅 This is a half-written, half-comic ficlet with a very open ending to let your imaginations run wild. Enjoy!

READ ON AO3

There was something about the horizon that still brought Izayoi hope.

In the last hours of daylight, she always found herself watching the sunset. As the sun turned its back on the world and the colors of fire burned their way across the great expanse of the sky, Izayoi watched its blues turn red, then orange, and then yellow and pink, comparing it in her mind to the way autumn swept through a summer forest. And she, in turn, would shed her colors, trading them for a singular white robe in the same way that the sky traded its colors for darkness. It was two turns of the day happening at once: the sun going to sleep, and a noblewoman turning away from the burdens of her day.

If she could even be called a noblewoman, anymore.

The world had changed and that change had come violently. Her father’s castle-fortress, which had been taken and built on the sweat of his brow and the blood of his men, had once been a stronghold for mortal power and might in the region. Situated on a small island that was surrounded by water and neighbored to the East by high cliff faces and a sleepy, profitable port-city, it had been said to be impregnable. Land armies were bottlenecked by the paths, sea armies were faced with the obstacle of choppy waters, and the castle itself was protected by natural defenses that were fortified with walls, towers, and soldiers. A single drawbridge entrance controlled the flow of people that came to and from the grounds. Here, her father had built his power and might. A resplendent castle of ivory and blue had sprung up as though one with the land, and Izayoi had loved it with every inch of her heart.

Until the skies had fallen on them.

That was their weakness: the sky. Yokai of flight had been their end. Like meteors, they’d descended on the palace in the dark of night, and Lady Tomoei of the Southern Sky had taken the palace by force. Only women of worth had survived: noblewomen, servants, and pretty faces had been spared as spoils of war, and Izayoi had been torn from the corpses of her family to be tucked away as a treasure. Lady Tomoei, with her crooked face and twisted smile, led an army of bird-creatures and yokai with ambitions to expand her lands–and this fortress, situated so close to the West and yet not in its bounds, provided a strategic position.

Yet, despite it all, Izayoi did not hate the sky. Now, situated for the night, hoping no man or general would have a reason to call upon her, she sat on her futon beside the window and folded her arms on the sill, watching as the stars began to appear. Here, in the darkest hour of dusk, she gazed upon the sky because it gave her comfort.

Because when the sun disappeared, the moon arrived, and the moon always brought with it the possibility of a kind guest.

That guest had been given the title of the “Dying Sun in the West” by the bird youkai she was now surrounded by. It wasn’t that he was actually dying, of course; the Dying Sun was very much alive, but Lady Tomoei said that Death always followed in his wake. She coveted him because of it–desired him, his power, and his influence, hoping to make him hers the same way she wanted to make him her ally.

So if she knew that he had a certain fondness for Izayoi, the results would be disastrous.

Izayoi knew the Dying Sun. She knew his name was Toga, that his preferred title was the Inu no Taisho, and that he was renowned among youkai and humans alike. She knew him well–so well, in fact, that he let her say his name without honorifics, and preferred that she said it when their bodies were one and her body was unbound.

In the beginning, she’d seduced him with the hope of escape. But now…

Well, she’d never meant to fall in love.

When her father had lived, he’d taught her to use both her mind and beauty as weapons–not one over the other, but both, because those were the only weapons she had. She had taken that advice to heart. Serving Tomoei, she’d heard how the Inu no Taisho was feared. She’d heard the stories of his conquests, of the rivers that had run red in his name. She’d seen the evidence of his power, but she’d also seen his wandering eyes when he’d visited. She’d felt his gaze on her and known she could bring him to heel. He was just a man, after all. No matter how great he was, he shared the same weaknesses all men did.

And she was woman enough to conquer him.

But where he was ruthless, he was kind. Where he was terrifying, he was mindful. He listened to her when she spoke. He kept her warm. One second he was fucking stars into her eyes and the next he was holding her, soothing her, wiping tears from her eyes and caring. Or pretending to care, anyway.

It was enough.

In the beginning, she’d hoped that he would fall for her ruse. She hoped that one day, she could ask him to spirit her away from this terrible place and escape Tomoei’s grip. But now, she didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t have ambitions to take her lands back–she was only one person, after all, and a woman at that–and she had nowhere to go from here. A part of her yearned to stay with him.

The other part of her said she was stupid to dream.

But what mattered most was finding freedom. That she and every other victimized woman here were given a second chance at life, if she could manage it. That was more achievable than revenge–more achievable than survival, even, because she knew that one day their novelty would wane. These yokai would be more interestested in satisfying their hunger than enjoying a mortal’s servitude or submission.

When the last bit of sunlight left the sky, Izayo rested her chin on the cradle of her crossed arms. Toga had said he’d be back tonight. There was only a sliver of the moon in the sky, giving him ample darkness to travel in. Their trysts were done largely in secret–a few visits too many and his peers would grow suspicious that he was doing more than simply using her.

She hated that she didn’t care. She hated that she yearned for him in his absence.

But then he was there, waking her up from a doze with a hand on her cheek. He was floating outside her window, silver and shining in his onyx armor and she felt herself smiling, felt her hands moving on their own to touch his face, and then his lips were on hers. His tongue was in her mouth. His fingers were in her hair and he was in her room–her awful, terribly, tiny dungeon of a room–and he was already putting her on her hands and knees, cushioning her with his pelt, stripping her of her robes. Leaning over her back, and quickly divesting them of their clothes. He was warm and soft and powerful and oh–oh, he was there, hands on her, inside her, around her; body plunging into hers, melting and desiring and devouring. She was lost in him in seconds. Her world was all hot breath and strong hands and him, him, him, him, him…

It was over before her heart had stopped aching, but his embrace was enough to soothe her pain.

In time, they had parted. They’d coupled again and broken apart, relaxing on either side of her small room so they could see each other in full. He leaned against the wall that framed her lonely window as she came to join him again, silent and pensive.

“What is it?” she asked, because there was a storm in his eyes.

art by @heavenin--hell written story by @loveyou-x3000

218 notes · View notes