Neer woke slowly, head pounding as a war drum before battle. His senses were dialed beyond what he’d ever known. He could hear individual raindrops on the windows, each one sounding off like a gunshot. Boards creaked and stones scrapes from microscopic movements that Neer had never even considered possible before. The pops and crackles of a gentle fire and candles were akin to fireworks booming overhead. The smells of deep musk, old stones, petrichor, burning wood, and damp wood assaulted his nose. The taste of spices was still heavy on his tongue, now greater and far more overwhelming. Though the burning pain in his body had faded, his skin felt bare and sensitive. 

The fanciful robe he’d been forced to wear for the ritual was gone, leaving him in his underclothes and swathed instead in sheets of the finest silk. At least, that is what it felt like against his skin. Opening his eyes was far out of the question. Even the dim firelight was far too great for his aching eyes to bear. Thunder crashed outside, and Neer screamed again. His head felt as though it were being pulled apart. Suddenly, he was drawn into someone’s lap. 

Their body was covered in soft fur and robes that seemed cool to the touch. A gentle claw stoked his jaw as a cup was brought to his lips. Neer drank greedily, the warm drink chasing the pain away. After he’d finished the drink, a hand gently wiped something from his face. 

“Art thou well?” The Crimson Lord rumbled, no longer speaking with his mind. His words vibrated through his chest. Which Neer realized with no small amount of fear that his head was lying against. The light of the candles no longer burned his eyes as he opened them. Hesitantly, he looked up to see the bat-like face of the god of blood staring down at him. His eyes hooded with concern, and to Neer’s utter shock, affection. 

“I’m…” Neer hesitated, dread beginning to weigh him down again. He wanted to jump away in fear, but his body felt like unset jelly. Even the strength to raise his head from the creature’s chest was lost on him. “Why am I alive?” He asked, wincing at the pain in his throat. The Crimson Lord jolted in surprise. His crimson eyes widened as his large ears suddenly shot straight up. 

“What doth thou say? Why wouldst thou not live?” He asked, seemingly distressed “Didst thou expect to die?” At Neer’s look of confusion, the bat god suddenly held him closer, wrapping his many robes and cloaks around him protectively. It occurred to Neer that the sheets he thought were wrapped around him were in fact the same intricate robes of the god. Though now, the creature was the size of a man, his many wings gone. Though he could not see it through the robes and soft chest fur of the Crimson One, he could feel the bat shaking in rage.

“Didst the fools ere thou ne'r bother to explain?” The bat god growled, sending a shiver down Neer’s spine. Slowly he regained the ability to move his limbs, though his movements were clumsy. He pulled away just enough to look at the Sire. 

“My people, are they safe?” I asked urgently. He seemed even more concerned and he drew me back to him to relax. 

“Of course  they are, little one.  The ritual is mere, and the deal struck.  The contracts  hast been written and our union is done.  E'en now mine subjects work to bring thy people food from our lands” He explained, a taloned hand carding carefully through Neer’s hair. Relief and confusion warred in his heart, but in the end, the important thing was his people were safe. But something was not right. 

“Then why am I alive? And what Union?” Neer asked, looking up at the now somewhat flustered deity. 

“'twere  written towards the treaty i sent to thy great grandsires.  Though written  'i  the crimson tongue, mine advisors ensured thy people would understand it.” He said, before clearing his throat. Then, in a calm and melodic tone, the Crimson Lord spoke in verse. His rumbling voice acting as a balm to Neer’s nerves.

“The one whom wears the golden round  

offer blood and heart with pate bowed

 once hand be offered, and they be bound. 

to the people, peace be found”

The words settled in Neer mind, instantly seeing the mistranslations and misunderstandings that must have plagued his family. The mysterious artifact, the scroll which held the “prophesy” was a peace treaty. And a treaty with one truly momentous condition. As pieces began clicking into place, Neer glanced about the room. It was grand, and dark. Rain pattered against wide stained glass windows, dark curtains, tapestries, and carpets covered the walls and floor. The room was lit by a crackling fire in an ornate fireplace and countless candles. The pair were laying on a gigantic bed, with a sheet red tend over it. Curtains hung from the top of the bedframe, drawn back for the moment. 

Lastly, his eyes landed on a mirror, tinted ever so slightly yellow. And he saw himself. His once dark hair was stark white, his eyes glowed faintly red. His skin was pale as milk with no blemishes to be seen. His ears had sharpened to a dramatic point. The rest of him was concealed by the bat god’s flowing robes, though he could see that around his own neck was a thin golden chain. Hanging from which was a ruby the size of a peach pit. Having noticed him staring, the Crimson Lord brushed a claw against the gem and quietly asked. 

“Art thou pleased with thy wedding gift?” He asked. “I resolve to wear the blade thou presented me every day i am able.” And that was the final piece. 

“Oh my gods it was a political marriage request.” Neer mumbled numbly. “Oh my sweet gods I married you.” The thought sent a rush of heat through him. He felt himself become, for lack of a better word, excited at the notion. Only for the feeling to quickly flee from him as the deity chuckled. The creature gently turned his face away from his reflection to meet his beastly gaze. Sorrow and affection danced in his eyes. 

“Thou forsooth didn't realize?” The Crimson One asked. Neer shook his head slightly, his eyes never leaving the beast’s “And thou were so prepared to die so thy people could live?” The creature asked, drawing closer as he did. 

“Yes.” Neer replied, a tear falling down his cheek. He was unsure if it was a tear of relief or one of grief. He had no time to ponder as the god of blood rushed forward. The flash of fear he felt was snuffed out by the passionate kiss he was given as their lips met. Neer melted into the abundant affection, a kind of closeness he had only ever dreamed about. Arms held him close and a strong heartbeat thrummed in time with his own. His excitement returned with a passion, as he pressed himself close to his apparent husband. Slowly, they pulled away from their kiss. 

“Then I could not bid for a better consort.” He laughed. “What is thy name, sweet one?” His breath was warm against the prince’s face. Strange way to begin a marriage, he couldn’t help but think. 

“My name is Neer. Neer of Vathrah.” He whispered in return, somewhat out of breath and certainly disheveled. The Crimson Lord’s hands ran down his back, sending shivers up his spine.