Aurean didn't tremble.
He *wouldn't at all*.
Each step up the black marble stairs carved into the spine of the mountain was a battle not against the cold that gnawed at his bones, nor the wind that clawed at his cloak like ghostly hands… but against himself.
*I am not afraid. I am not weak.*
But Varys Solmere watched from above like a god carved from night and flame, arms folded, eyes sharp enough to flay skin from bone with just one glance.
"Approach," he said no command, no volume. Just inevitability.
Aurean did. Boots clacking against stone in rhythm with his racing heart. He kept his gaze forward, jaw locked so tight it hurt. He wouldn't look cowed. Not for this monster who demanded heirs like tribute and lives as collateral.
When he reached the top, Varys stepped down one stair just one closing half the distance in effortless dominance.
Closer now… too close…
The Demon Lord smelled of sandalwood and scorched earth things that lingered long after fire had died out under stars gone cold.
"You're shaking," Varys murmured, tilting Aurean's chin up with two fingers tipped in shadow-blue nails cold as death itself on warm skin "and you haven't even seen my true form yet."
"I'm shivering because you live in an ice tomb," Aurean spat back through chattering teeth defiant even while fear coiled hot beneath his ribs "not because I'm afraid of you."
Varys smiled then a slow unfurling unlike anything mortal a smile that promised pain wrapped in silk velvet darkness and whispered:
**"Good."**
Then turned without another word and walked into the palace's gaping maw lit by floating blue flames along endless halls paved with shattered mirrors reflecting broken versions of whoever dared pass through...
And Aurean?
He followed not because he wanted to...
But because every door behind him had already burned shut.
---
Varys' stride was smooth and purposeful, every step echoing in the silence as they passed rooms bathed in blue light. The palace's vastness had no end, mirroring the vastness of time in this place where life was measured in centuries not in decades. Aurean followed behind him, each footstep a reluctant drumbeat echoing their forced proximity.
The Demon Lord's robes billowed softly with every movement, their shadows dancing with a life of their own. They passed more shattered mirrors, some holding glimpses of what was, others showing what could be.
A flash in one mirror made Aurean pause—just for a heartbeat.
His reflection didn't move with him.
Instead, it smiled—a sad, knowing twist of lips—before whispering soundlessly: *"You'll change him."*
Aurean blinked. The image shattered back into fragments like the rest.
"Keep moving," Varys said without turning. "The mirrors show truths… and lies. Most who stare too long go mad."
"And you?" Aurean muttered, catching up. "Have you gone mad yet?"
A slow breath escaped the Demon Lord—almost amusement. "I stopped seeing myself centuries ago."
They reached a grand archway veiled in silver mist that parted at his presence.
Beyond lay not a throne room… but a garden.
Impossible, glowing flora bloomed under twin black moons filtering through an open ceiling carved like constellations long forgotten. Vines curled around obsidian pillars; flowers pulsed with soft violet light, their petals opening and closing like sleeping eyes.
"This is my sanctum," Varys said quietly—softer than before. "No mortal has walked here since I was bound by oath to this realm."
Aurean's anger wavered under awe. This place... felt alive in ways magic never did back home—it hummed beneath his skin.
"Why bring me here?" he asked carefully.
Varys turned fully now—and for the first time—the ice cracked just slightly around those sapphire eyes.*
**"Because,"** he said lowly, voice threaded with something almost human…
**"you're supposed to be my curse."**
*(pause)*
**"...but you feel more like my first breath in ten thousand years."**
Silence fell heavy as stars above them flickered once—as if holding their breath too…
A gust of wind slipped through the garden's open ceiling, stirring the glowing vines like living breath. One delicate flower—pale violet with silver veins—drifted from its stem and spiraled down… landing softly in Aurean's hair.
He froze.
So did Varys.
For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then slowly, deliberately, the Demon Lord reached out—not to remove it—but to trace a single claw-tipped finger along the petal's edge, close enough that warmth (or was it magic?) brushed Aurean's temple.
"You're not him," Varys said again—but this time, it wasn't accusation. It was realization. "You don't smell like fear alone… you carry fire beneath it."
Aurean swallowed hard. His pulse roared in his ears. This close, he could see flickers deep within Varys' eyes—tiny embers shifting like trapped stars trying to escape an endless night.
"And you," Aurean whispered back, defiance flaring despite everything, "aren't just some monster from bedtime curses." He lifted a hand—slowly—and plucked the flower free before holding it out between them like a challenge.*
"If you wanted obedience... you should've taken my brother."
Varys stared at the bloom—at *him*—
Then laughed.
Not cruel.
Not cold.
But something raw… startled into existence after centuries of silence.
And in that laugh?
The first crack in eternity's wall began to bleed light.*
But far below—in shadowed halls untouched by moon or flame—a whisper stirred among ancient chains…
**"The pact remembers..."**
---
The whisper faded like smoke on a breeze, leaving silence in its wake. But its echoes lingered… an echo that seemed to make the constellations above pulse faster.
Varys turned away, pacing slowly between glowing flora as if measuring his next words. A cold wind blew through the garden, bringing whispers of forgotten worlds carried on black wings.
Aurean tried to read the shadows on the Demon Lord's face but it was stone—impervious, unreadable.
Finally:
*"You were right,"* Varys said, voice so soft the wind almost took it. *"I'm not here to demand obedience."*
Surprise flickered across Aurean's face—brief, but there. He'd expected threats, anger, *something* more monstrous... just not this.
Varys continued, still turned away, still pacing. Each word was as sharp as it was quiet:
*"I've lived centuries… seen empires rise and fall beneath stars you've never dreamed of. You might as well ask the desert to obey your will as demand something from me. No."*
He stopped, eyes fixated on the black horizon.
*"You aren't here to obey… you're here to survive."*