Sacrifices {4/4} {Aladdin/Mozenrath}afterandalasiaAugust 16 2014, 19:06:35 UTC
The blade pressed slightly harder against his neck, and Mozenrath tried not to stumble forwards. It would be so easy to whirl with the magic in his hand, take hold of Destane’s neck with his gauntlet and drain the life out of him. It might even give Mozenrath back a few years, an inch or two more flesh on his arm. But Destane speaks the truth - he has always been so prim about that, as if by refraining from lying he can somehow make up for everything that he has done to the Land of the Black Sands. If Mozenrath kills Destane, Aladdin will be in pieces before he can turn to perform magic once again.
The men that Mozenrath has left dead on the battlefields, the years that he has spent in training, the pain that bites through him each time that a little more magic claims a little more of his flesh... he will not have it be for nothing. He cannot let those sacrifices go to waste. And Destane offers him a choice: a kingdom, or Aladdin’s life. One more wash of blood upon his hands should be nothing compared to what has gone before.
He lunged forwards, lashing out with his magic and destroying the remaining shadow-creatures in a burst of lightning-bright fire. Destane’s wand slashed down his back, as sharp as a knife, and he heard it scrape against bone as the old man screamed in fury. The pain was bright and fierce, but nothing to that of the gauntlet, and Mozenrath was still on his feet as he whirled and grabbed the man by the throat, wrapping the gauntlet around his neck. Destane was so thin that Mozenrath’s hand seems to wrap almost all of the way around, and he screamed as darkness fills his eyes and his body collapsed in, withering from the inside out.
Ashes trickled to the floor from Mozenrath’s clenched fist. Distantly, he was aware that blood was running down his back, pooling on the floor at his feet, but then his legs gave way and he would have hit the floor had arms not caught him. He looked round in confusion only to see Aladdin, remember, and laugh with the taste of blood in his mouth.
“There are healers among the men,” said Aladdin. “I will get them, just let me...”
“No,” said Mozenrath. He groped with his left hand until he found the obsidian wand that Destane had dropped, gripping it so tightly that it cut into his skin. Breathing a spell, he bought it to his chest, and then in a flash of heat the magic it contained burst free.
A tongue of fire lashed down his back, right down the line of the wound, worse than anything that the gauntlet had ever offered. Mozenrath screamed, back arching as his flesh grew together again, heart pounding so hard that he thought it would burst against his ribs, the pain not even coming in waves but in one terrible wall that seemed to go on forever.
Then, in a moment, it was gone. He felt weakly empty in its aftermath, and clung to the arm that propped him on his knees, at least until the strength for even that gave way and he fell against Aladdin.
“You almost got yourself killed,” said Aladdin, and it sounded somewhere between awed and horrified.
“So did you,” replied Mozenrath, and managed to inject some of his old scorn into it again. He felt warmth against his brow, and it took him a moment to realise that Aladdin was kissing him, and that the arms around him were shaking.
“Don’t do that,” said Aladdin softly.
Though he would never admit it, Mozenrath knew that he had made the right choice. Bodies could be mended, but a world made wrong could not so easily be set right.
Once, he had only intended to keep Aladdin so long as he was useful. A tool to help him undo the lock upon the Land of the Black Sands. He had kept telling himself that, when it was most appropriate, he would give up Aladdin in the same way that he had given up every other alliance, every other promise.
Hi! Um, OP here, for all the prompts you used, I think (I've got Aladdin/Mozenrath on the brain rather) and this was all I could have hoped for, for any of them. Thank you so much!
Yay, you're still around! I'm so glad that you did get a fill, just hope that someone else gets the others (or, you know, more inspiration strikes). Happy that you enjoyed this~
The men that Mozenrath has left dead on the battlefields, the years that he has spent in training, the pain that bites through him each time that a little more magic claims a little more of his flesh... he will not have it be for nothing. He cannot let those sacrifices go to waste. And Destane offers him a choice: a kingdom, or Aladdin’s life. One more wash of blood upon his hands should be nothing compared to what has gone before.
He lunged forwards, lashing out with his magic and destroying the remaining shadow-creatures in a burst of lightning-bright fire. Destane’s wand slashed down his back, as sharp as a knife, and he heard it scrape against bone as the old man screamed in fury. The pain was bright and fierce, but nothing to that of the gauntlet, and Mozenrath was still on his feet as he whirled and grabbed the man by the throat, wrapping the gauntlet around his neck. Destane was so thin that Mozenrath’s hand seems to wrap almost all of the way around, and he screamed as darkness fills his eyes and his body collapsed in, withering from the inside out.
Ashes trickled to the floor from Mozenrath’s clenched fist. Distantly, he was aware that blood was running down his back, pooling on the floor at his feet, but then his legs gave way and he would have hit the floor had arms not caught him. He looked round in confusion only to see Aladdin, remember, and laugh with the taste of blood in his mouth.
“There are healers among the men,” said Aladdin. “I will get them, just let me...”
“No,” said Mozenrath. He groped with his left hand until he found the obsidian wand that Destane had dropped, gripping it so tightly that it cut into his skin. Breathing a spell, he bought it to his chest, and then in a flash of heat the magic it contained burst free.
A tongue of fire lashed down his back, right down the line of the wound, worse than anything that the gauntlet had ever offered. Mozenrath screamed, back arching as his flesh grew together again, heart pounding so hard that he thought it would burst against his ribs, the pain not even coming in waves but in one terrible wall that seemed to go on forever.
Then, in a moment, it was gone. He felt weakly empty in its aftermath, and clung to the arm that propped him on his knees, at least until the strength for even that gave way and he fell against Aladdin.
“You almost got yourself killed,” said Aladdin, and it sounded somewhere between awed and horrified.
“So did you,” replied Mozenrath, and managed to inject some of his old scorn into it again. He felt warmth against his brow, and it took him a moment to realise that Aladdin was kissing him, and that the arms around him were shaking.
“Don’t do that,” said Aladdin softly.
Though he would never admit it, Mozenrath knew that he had made the right choice. Bodies could be mended, but a world made wrong could not so easily be set right.
Once, he had only intended to keep Aladdin so long as he was useful. A tool to help him undo the lock upon the Land of the Black Sands. He had kept telling himself that, when it was most appropriate, he would give up Aladdin in the same way that he had given up every other alliance, every other promise.
The time never came.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment