Yes, with a lasting catch

Wey’land did not respond immediately, rather, he went very still before slowly reverting back to the form that Aires had first seen him in. Opening his eyes once more, he gazed toward the seated god.

“Temper, temper, Aires. I assure you, my demands are more than reasonable, everyone will be walking away from this perfectly unharmed. Unless, of course, you wish to reconsider and choose war?” The words were mocking but the subtext was clear, testing to see Aires’ dedication to maintaining the tenuous peace which had formed.

For his part, Aires just rolled his eyes, wondering how long the posturing was going to go on. He had already stayed his hand twice for the crime of threatening his wife and lovers, and wasn’t particularly inclined to do it again. Especially not if Mr. Emperor continued to be insufferable. He was willing to put up with some bullshit, plenty of it given his viral inclinations, but he was more than willing to draw the line.

‘Just a little bit longer. Figure out what he wants and then you can go home and fuck all the stress into Venus. And then A, and Grace, and everyone else. Just a little bit longer…’ His internal monologue helped just a little, enough to bite his tongue for a second before plainly responding.

“If I wanted a war, we’d be in the middle of it, not bantering. I’m here to negotiate. Would you like to get on with it, or keep palavering?”

Wey’land grinned, exposing his deadly jaws, before answering, “My, my, such big words, and from someone who used to be so mediocre, he had to always stay behind in class to ask the teacher for clarifying points, oh, how they grow.” Wey’land finished in a falsetto voice, dramatically miming wiping a tear from his eyes. “But, I do find myself tiring of your presence in my nest, so while I do so enjoy palavering, I suppose I shall simply get on with it. After all, I still have one more thing to look forward to before you leave.”

“The fuck do you know about me?!” Aires yelled incredulously, quite frankly shocked. The worst part was that he was right, at least partially; in his past life, he had often had extra questions for his teachers. Wey’land knowing that was inexplicable though.

A predatory gleam shone in Wey’land’s eyes, “Oh dear, touched a nerve, did I? Does the big bad god not like people knowing things?” He smirked, and leaned back in his throne, “What was it that you called me before? ‘Puppet master’, I believe it was. I quite like the sound of that, almost as much as I enjoy watching you dance to my invisible threads.”

Seeing the tensing and flexing of Aires’ body, he gave a growling laugh. “Go ahead, do it! Attack me for my insolent tongue! Stop holding yourself back! Give in to your instincts and eradicate me! DANCE, PUPPET, DANCE!!!”

Putting his shock aside and his face in his hands, Aires slumped in his chair, shaking his head back and forth. ‘Just think about A’s ass, just think about A’s ass…’ he thought to himself, trying for the life of him and everyone else to not audibly groan his annoyance.

“What do you waaaant?” he sighed, a bit of a whine slipping into his deep voice at the Emperor’s insistence on further antics when he already had what he wanted. If anything, Aires was definitely right about Wey’land being a puppet master: he loved to play around. It was a miracle he got anything done at all if he messed around so much.

Wey’land gave a mock affronted look, complete with dramatic head motion and a hand over his heart, “Goodness me, do I detect impatience from the mighty king? Such a thing is hardly becoming for one of your station. Then again, it just does go to show that breeding will tell. Trust a royal to act out of their station; an Imperial would never do such a thing.”

He smirked, “Why the rush, m’lord? Have you got somewhere to be? Something better to do than negotiate for the lives of all you hold dear in this world?”

“Do I have something better to do than dance in circles around what I want, you mean? Yeah, as it happens, I do. I just consumed an army laying siege to my city, something I doubt is going to go under the radar. So I’d really rather get back and start figuring out how to handle that. Would you like to just let me know when you’re actually ready to talk? Or better yet, we draw a line in the sand and do our best to ignore each other? I’ll trade turning a blind eye for the same.”

Grinning ferally, Wey’land gave his response, “I’m afraid there are a few things that prevent me from doing as you have requested, firstly, I know you… rather, I know your type. You’ll smile and draw that line, all while plotting how to best stab me in the back. Futile as the literal act may be, I have no desire to worry about that when I could nip it in the bud here and now. And as for talking, well, what have we to talk about? We’re still at odds, you and I. I don’t believe I’ve heard the words I need to to know that you have accepted your defeat and have truly come to negotiate.”

“And what words are those? ‘I’m sorry’? ‘Please forgive me, noble Emperor, I didn’t know you fucking existed until you took my women hostage’? I can find a copy of the ‘Treaty of Versailles’ somewhere if you want.”

“No no no, nothing quite so grandiose, though it does sound nice to hear you say it. I’m only looking for two little words, from you to me, admitting your defeat at my hands.”

Aires really wanted to break his chair again. For how evasive the monstrous emperor was being, he was oddly capable of getting straight to the point. Holding out the barest hope that the matter would be dropped, he offered, “Fuck off?” Wey’land’s unchanging grin was answer enough.

Closing his eyes again and sitting straight and properly in his chair, Aires **** himself to accept the situation. He was in the middle of the enemy’s home, entirely alone and facing a creature shown to be his equal. All while his wife and lovers were held hostage in his own throne room by an enemy that had proven itself capable of operating invisibly. He had ****. Resigning himself and letting his pride fall, the Titan slowly looked up at his enemy and bowed his head a fraction. “I concede.”

Wey’land’s grin became enormous, a crescent moon of deadly silver fangs on a backdrop of armored skin black as the darkest night, “I accept your surrender. Now then, let us discuss the terms of yours and your women’s continued existence. Bal’shec!”

A creature that looked similar to Wey’land, but decidedly smaller, more feminine and sporting a much less elaborate head crest entered the room from an access way Aires hadn’t seen before.

“Yes, my Lord?” it hissed.

“Bring the implements and documents I prepared earlier, oh and a table, this isn’t the sort of thing one does on their lap, after all.”

The creature bowed and slipped away, and shortly after a group of yet more different looking creatures entered, though these looked more akin to the first Aires had laid eyes on. They were carrying an ornate looking table constructed out of the same black material that was visible through the nest. The first creature walked in behind carrying a finely wrought box of lacquered oak, which she reverently placed on the table that had been set down in front of the throne.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Wey’land sent the creatures away, before gesturing to the far side of the table.

Despite the urge to be petulant, Aires smoothly stood and effortlessly lifted his chain. He could have dragged it against the ground, probably producing all manner of unholy sounds, but again refrained. Slamming the metal piece of furniture down with a massive bang was entirely intentional though. Sitting down at the offered end of the table, Aires looked back at Wey’land, the monster of a man much closer and so easier to see the extent of his strain’s mutation. It still wasn’t pleasant.

“At least you’re prepared, though I’m not sure I should compliment you for being ready for my defeat. What’s this then?” Aires asked, nodding towards the box.

Wey’land grinned cruelly before answering, “I rather had a hunch you would see things my way, and as for this,” he flipped the polished and gleaming bronze clasps, opening the lid and turning it smoothly to face Aires, “This is the part I’m sure you will hate the most so far.”

Inside the box, the interior of which was inlaid in some kind of metal, lying rather innocuously upon the bottom of it, rested a rather elegant looking calligraphy pen, a rolled up piece of parchment-like paper, a small blade, and a curiously shaped circular object.

“.......I’m not putting any of those up my ass. If that’s what you want, I’ll take the war.”

“As amusing as it is to discover just how fragile your masculinity is, no, I’m afraid we will not be going to war over that. I am rather concerned that that was your first thought, though. I do believe I made it quite clear that I prefer the fairer sex.” Aires just shrugged.

“Either way, these are the implements that will ensure both of us hold ourselves to the agreement we come to. As you are aware, this virus can unlock much more than simple mutation, so this treaty will be rather more binding than its mundane brethren.”

“Interesting,” Aires mused, picking up the only piece he didn’t recognize, the round thing. “How does it work? Obviously our blood holds power, I imagine that’s the binding agent?”

“Half a gold star, and a friendly warning, my blood is very unique, and this process is impossible without it. It’s also quite fast acting, and will eat through just about anything, including you if you did the unthinkably stupid and tried to change your blood into a copy of mine.

“But in essence, yes, our blood is us. I have already written the treaty, using ink that contains minute traces of my blood, to avoid destroying the thing. You will cut yourself using this specially forged blade, and write your agreement to the terms.”

“Let’s take a look first before anything gets signed, yes?”

Wey’land grinned, “If that’s what will help you sleep with your women at night…”

Pulling the rolled up parchment out of the box, he unrolled it and turned it to face Aires. Leaning in slightly to get a better view, Aries silently read over the pertinent parts.

He was not surprised by anything he read in the first bits. In essence, he would agree to never attempt to subvert or subjugate the monster across from him, he would respect the Hive’s status as a separate state with all the niceties and such that went with that, and neither he, nor anyone he associated with, could knowingly harm or aid those seeking to harm any who resided in the Hive.

It was what came after that that surprised him slightly. In return for giving shelter and/or aid, either humanitarian or military, to the Hive as a whole or any Queens of nests that requested it, the Hive would offer the same.

The final part was what he disliked the most. It stated that an envoy/diplomat of the Hive would reside in Orthrys at all times, would be afforded accommodation befitting their status, and would be granted a personal audience with Aires or the temporary head of state in the case of his being absent, at least once a week should they request it. The same allowance for an envoy/diplomat of Orthrys in the Hive would be granted at the Emperor’s discretion.

There was of course much flowery language and probably unnecessary flavor text that basically said and did nothing but pad the document, and Aires internally groaned, ‘Fuck me, even when he writes, the bastard can’t shut up,’ before looking up at the being waiting patiently across from him.

“Seems surprisingly straightforward, given your previous actions,” he said snidely, though he did take the pen and twirl it in his fingers.

With a chuckle, Wey’land replied, “Yes, well, I’m afraid that for you, that’s only the first half, and the one I expect you’ll like the most when all is said and done.”

“I suppose the second is contingent on the first?”

“In a manner of speaking. You recall I said this process is contingent on my blood?”

“Naturally…” he said with a hint of trepidation.

“Well, both parties require it for it to bind.”

“Is this the part where I get ‘accidentally’ melted?”

“No, this is the part where I spent a long time working around you getting melted, you’re welcome.”

“Thanks. How do I avoid getting melted?”

“Pick the limb you like the least.”

“Is it going to stay on me once we’re done?”

“Yes, but you’ll very likely wish it didn’t.”

“Fuck. Left leg, I guess. Do I get to know what’s going to happen beforehand, or is it one of those ‘better if you don’t know it’s coming’ type of things?”

“I’ll tell you, after you put the band around your leg and mold it to the whole thing, do ensure not to mess up the inscriptions. I would also recommend reverting to your natural skin, unless you want to prolong the process?”

“Double fuck.” Aires examined the ring a moment longer before doing as the emperor said, molding it around his muscular leg like the world’s dumbest skintight boot. “Go for it.”

Wey’land removed the knife from the box and set it on the floor. “Unless you want this process to take as long as possible, put your leg in there.” Aires quickly did just that, not looking forward to what he was about to experience.

“Let’s hope I didn’t overestimate your regenerative abilities.”

So saying, Wey’land held his arm above the box and, with a quick motion from his tail, sliced his wrist wide open.

With a hissing that sounded like a thousand dens of rattlesnakes, his blood surged out of his body and quickly began filling the box. Seeming to burn the very air, it quickly reached the top and Wey’land pulled his arm back, licking the wound as an animal would, displaying once again he was no longer fully human.

Aires didn't care about that too much though, he was too busy trying very hard not to scream. Despite his already bad expectations, it was no exaggeration to say that it was agony. The god’s regenerative power was pushed to its limit making sure that the nerves all continued functioning, much to his extended displeasure. He felt every nuance of the pattern being inscribed into his being, permanently forging the contract and ensuring the mark would remain even if the limb was removed. The **** continued for far too long and Aires felt his teeth crack, before the torment finally ended and he gratefully pulled away.

A cursory glance showed the ‘protective’ boot pitted and corroded, which Aires removed with a powerful flex of his leg. That hurt too, but his regenerative factor was quickly catching up to the damage, leaving his leg unpleasantly red and marked with a twisting sleeve of convoluted, organic patterns, notably similar to the architecture of the palace that housed them. Somewhat annoyed but rationalizing that he could cover, disguise, or supplement it, he wasn’t entirely against it.

“I want you to know,” Aires said nastily as he grabbed the dagger and cut his hand, wetting the tip of the pen with his blood, “that I am going to do everything I can to find a way to mark you too. After all, our agreement marks us as equals. We should look the part.” Scribing the parchment with his name, Aires tossed the wet pen back on the table.

Looking up from his fully healed wrist, Wey’land chuckled, before holding up his blemish free arm. “I wish you luck, few things can even break my skin, and of those that can, none save my own tail are subtle enough to do it.”

Standing up as the parchment briefly flashed a virulent green, and his blood surged as he watched Aires wince, he gestured towards a small alcove which revealed itself to be a cleverly disguised doorway to a small balcony. “Do keep me updated though, I am rather curious how much effort you plan to put towards the endeavor.”

“Believe me, I will. I’ve found magic can open the way to many possibilities. I can’t say this was fun, but…perhaps a necessary evil. I’ll send my representative within the week.” Aires stepped out on the balcony and stretched his wings, ready to be free of the black city.

“Oh, I rather had a good time, myself. You will find your throne room devoid of all but one of my Drones on your return. I rather expect you’ll be hearing from me shortly to discuss logistics and such.”

“Very well. Enjoy your evening, Wey’land.”

With a smirk and a hand stealthily on the door, Wey’land gave his final, mocking farewell.

“You as well… Aiden.” Before slamming the door shut in the god’s face.

The Titan had already spun to demand answers, but was met by nothing but the smooth surface of the door. He had half a mind to break the stupid thing down and demand answers. In the end, his desire to see his women safe overruled his need for answers, but he resolved to accomplish two things concerning the emperor: mark him and get an earnest explanation. For now, he poured strength into his legs, one twinging more than the other, and jumped as hard as he could, annihilating the balcony beneath him in the process.

“Fuckass,” he grumbled to himself before spreading his wings and soaring towards Othrys and home.

“Sonuvabitch, I liked that balcony.”