Fic: "Mated In Death" [Les Miserables]
mhari, here it is. *hides*
Mated In Death
by Ghani Blue
[Montparnasse; R]
Possibly disturbing content.
Beta by Natasha
The death I give is quick and elegant. My touch is merciful. My blade is sharp and gleams in the dark like a wolf’s canine, for this is what I am. We are one, my master and I. No one knows him the way I do. I have protected his sleep from the moment he first curled his fingers around me. My hilt has been worn smooth by years of unbroken companionship. My master loves me; I am the one he trusts. I am the truth that was, that is, that always will be. I am the knife of Montparnasse.
When I found him he was nothing special, a boy like so many others. But I saw his potential, recognised the glimmer in his eyes, ruthlessness lurking just under baby-smooth skin. I offered myself to him then; swore an oath to teach, protect, and serve.
It was I who had first shown him beauty; not some nameless grisette. He saw himself reflected in the silver gleam of my blade, and loved himself. When my blade cut the throat of our first victim he tasted the rush of power, smelled the copper-sweet scent of blood. He trembled, and I knew I had him; he was mine.
We roam the nights together. Nobody dares stand in our way. At one time, as a boy, he feared the night, afraid of shadows lurking in the dark corners of his dreams. No more; now he is the shadow.
Montparnasse is my creation; mine to love, mine to destroy. I will miss him, but the day is not far off when I will bury myself in his soft flesh; for fear, for joy, for pleasure maybe. I will let his fragrant blood dull my blade until I find myself a new boy.
End.
Mated In Death
by Ghani Blue
[Montparnasse; R]
Possibly disturbing content.
Beta by Natasha
The death I give is quick and elegant. My touch is merciful. My blade is sharp and gleams in the dark like a wolf’s canine, for this is what I am. We are one, my master and I. No one knows him the way I do. I have protected his sleep from the moment he first curled his fingers around me. My hilt has been worn smooth by years of unbroken companionship. My master loves me; I am the one he trusts. I am the truth that was, that is, that always will be. I am the knife of Montparnasse.
When I found him he was nothing special, a boy like so many others. But I saw his potential, recognised the glimmer in his eyes, ruthlessness lurking just under baby-smooth skin. I offered myself to him then; swore an oath to teach, protect, and serve.
It was I who had first shown him beauty; not some nameless grisette. He saw himself reflected in the silver gleam of my blade, and loved himself. When my blade cut the throat of our first victim he tasted the rush of power, smelled the copper-sweet scent of blood. He trembled, and I knew I had him; he was mine.
We roam the nights together. Nobody dares stand in our way. At one time, as a boy, he feared the night, afraid of shadows lurking in the dark corners of his dreams. No more; now he is the shadow.
Montparnasse is my creation; mine to love, mine to destroy. I will miss him, but the day is not far off when I will bury myself in his soft flesh; for fear, for joy, for pleasure maybe. I will let his fragrant blood dull my blade until I find myself a new boy.
End.