WARNING: Implied sexual abuse
~*~
Mirage slowly opened his eyes. A reddish blur greeted his vision, and for a moment he fantasized it was the canopy of his bed back home.
But it wasn't, of course. For one thing, the one at home was a much deeper color, more like wine. And there was no ignoring the new Levia inside his body, binding his power like chains of solid iron.
He didn't want to look at the place where the chains bound the tightest. Over the collarbone, upon which his new contract symbol blazed. No, he didn't want to look at anything.
Too bad. By now, his vision had cleared enough to make out his surroundings – a luxurious bed covered in scarlet silk sheets. Mirage had never hated any place more.
When he heard a low grunt to his left, a shiver raked down his spine. Heart pounding, Mirage debated whether to look or not. On the one hand, he didn't want to lay a single eye on Ulrich Ziegler – but on the other, he didn't like having no idea what the man might be doing.
So fighting stiff muscles, he turned his head. When his gaze landed on a face only a few inches away, he almost hurled himself back. But when he took in Ulrich's closed eyes, slightly opened mouth, his racing heartbeat slowed.
Still fast asleep. Well, of course. The fool certainly had tired himself out last night. Now with his hair loose over his brow and his arm tucked beneath his head, he looked so comfortable Mirage wanted to smack him.
Why not? Like he'd even notice while off in dreamland. But rather than just hitting him, wasn't this a prime opportunity to end his miserable existence for good?
All Mirage had to do was find the perfect weapon. Unfortunately, he had nothing on him; not only had Ulrich destroyed the Spider Lily illusion, but he'd also removed the practical traveling clothes Mirage had on underneath. Who knew where he'd tossed them.
Well, there was bound to be something in this room. Gritting his teeth, he hauled himself upright –
Only for a strong hand to clamp around his arm. Mirage's heart froze.
A hard yank, and Mirage spilled back onto the bed. Next Ulrich rolled over, forcing Mirage to sprawl across his chest. The feeling of his skin against Mirage's made Mirage want to vomit. And through it all, the bastard hadn't even opened his eyes.
Caught like this, Mirage couldn't move an inch. There went his chance to escape – not like it had been much of one in the first place.
Not wanting to look at Ulrich's face, he squeezed his eyes shut. But there was nothing else to focus on except his madly whirling thoughts, or even worse, that awful smothering Levia. So unlike Victor's purple flames. Powerful as they might be, they'd never overwhelmed him like this.
A knife twisted in his heart. Why, even now, was he still thinking of Victor?
Surely more than a day had passed since he'd come to the castle. If Victor was going to rescue him, he would have done so already.
What an immature way to think. Logically, Victor would have no idea what had happened to him. They had broken their contract, after all – on Mirage's behest.
Even so, shouldn't Victor have started wondering where he was?
'Enough, enough! How pathetic can you get?' Mirage blinked hard, fighting the stinging at the corners of his eyes. Why bother hoping for Victor to save him anyway? All his life, he'd never depended on anyone.
Indeed, if Victor possessed the slightest smidgen of intelligence, he'd have already cut his losses and gone on his way. Much as it hurt to admit, he'd never needed Mirage in the first place.
Yet Mirage, foolish and weak as he was, couldn't stop thinking about those words Victor had spoken once. Words that he still wasn't sure he had heard in reality or only a dream.
'I wasn't talking about Theo.'
As if. Mirage must have hallucinated the whole thing. To Victor, nothing mattered more than his stupid little brother. Mirage was just a means to an end for him. If he could serve a stronger commander, why wouldn't he jump at the chance?
His eyes stung harder. It took all Mirage's effort to force air past the lump in his throat. So weak. So pathetic.
Perhaps for someone like him, this was the best fate he could possibly hope for.
~*~
"Come now, Spider Lily. You ought to eat, get your strength up. Aren't these your favorite strawberries?"
Mirage turned away from the proffered fruit. Yes, Spider Lily had loved the strawberries from the castle's private garden, but he hadn't known anything better. Certainly not the chocolate lava cake from the famous patisserie across town, which Mirage always sent Victor to buy early in the morning before they sold out….
'You damn fool,' Mirage berated himself, gritting his teeth.
The strawberry retreated, but Mirage didn't get to relax before Ulrich's weight shifted on the bed and his cologne drifted closer. Despite himself, Mirage stiffened. It was all he could not to squirm when Ulrich's hand closed around his shoulder and his breath brushed his ear.
"Spider Lily, don't reject me. Let me take care of you…."
Resisting would do no good, but Mirage didn't want to just roll over and give Ulrich what he wanted either. So he remained limp, not reacting as Ulrich tugged him into his arms and buried his face into Mirage's hair.
But before he could get further, a knock rang from the door. Stupidly enough, Mirage's heart leaped.
Too bad Ulrich went on nuzzling him, heedless of the interruption. At least until it sounded again, louder and more insistent.
Finally Ulrich extracted himself from Mirage's hair, barking at the door, "What is it?"
"Pardon, Master." Rain's voice filtered through the door. "Some travelers have arrived in the hopes of receiving your blessing."
"I'm busy. Turn them away."
Busy indeed. By one definition, Mirage supposed.
Rain didn't leave. "They have traveled long and far to swear their loyalty, Master. It wouldn't hurt to hear them out."
"Fine." Heaving a sigh, Ulrich let go of Mirage and climbed off the bed.
Relief flooded Mirage, but it didn't last long before Ulrich gestured at him. "Come along, Spider Lily."
Mirage narrowed his eyes. Well, he should have known. After all the effort Ulrich had gone through to capture him again, there was no way he would ever let Mirage out of his sight.
So Mirage found himself following Ulrich through the castle halls. At least Ulrich had given him clothes to wear – not that it counted for much, just a flimsy silk robe patterned with spider lilies.
This time it was the actual thing, not a mere illusion. Just one more chain on top of all the others.
No hairpin, however. Which made Mirage grudgingly concede that Ulrich might possess something in the way of brains after all.
Eventually, they arrived at the castle's main hall. With a vaulted ceiling and even more extravagant throne than in Ulrich's office, it was perhaps the most ridiculous space within the already tasteless castle.
Ulrich seated himself in the throne, pulling Mirage down onto his lap. The position made Mirage's face burn, but he forced himself to focus on the scepter Ulrich set beside the throne. Maybe if he moved subtly enough, he might be able to snatch it….
Oh, who was kidding? Ulrich would undoubtedly notice, to say nothing of all the guards standing around. Including Rain, who'd taken up a position to the right of the throne and wasn't bothering to disguise her suspicious glare at Mirage.
Mirage responded with a smirk, which only made Rain glare harder.
Too bad he couldn't amuse himself like this for long. Not before Ulrich snapped his fingers and called, sounding bored, "Let them in."
When the grand double doors slammed open, Mirage stiffened. Suddenly he realized just how humiliating his position must appear – curled up in Ulrich Ziegler's lap with barely any clothes on. Bad enough that the castle guards were treated to the sight; having outsiders see him was almost more than he could bear.
Not just outsiders, but the most pathetic kind of Tielan possible. Begging a wizard for whatever scraps of Levia and protection he might deign to toss their way.
Mirage clenched his teeth, wrestling down the heat in his face. So what if these fools saw him as Ulrich's pampered pet. Mirage knew the truth – that just by virtue of being who he was, he stood far higher than them.
So he kept his head high as the people shuffled inside. Pitiful things, their clothes worn and ragged and covered with dust from traveling.
But when his eyes landed on the one at the back, his heart rocketed into his throat.
This man was dressed as plainly as the others, but he stood much taller – not to mention carried what looked like an antique cello case. But that wasn't what had caught Mirage's attention. It was his black hair, neatly tied back, and the sharp angles of his face.
And his eyes. They met Mirage's, dark and serious.
Mirage barely dared to breathe. It couldn't be – but it was.
That was Victor, looking right at him.