The Demon Lord and his Hero (BL)

Artemus escorted his two students home that night, giving them express instructions not to accept any letters or invitations that weren't vetted by him. Explaining the myriad reasons Syryn would have made enemies tonight, he warned them from meeting people unfamiliar to them. It all made sense to Syryn so he agreed with the professor.

After thanking Artemus, Syryn found a red-headed fan latched to him.

"Luci was worried," Alka explained, and then with a tight hug from the plant mage, "congratulations Syryn, I had no doubts but it still is amazing what you've accomplished."

Syryn was still high on the victory he had won off Rowan. It was the balm that soothed the pain of how pitifully he had been crushed in the past by the anti mage. Cupping his good arm around Luci's head to fluff his hair, Syryn shrugged at Alka, "And I think that's the last time I'll ever catch Rowan by surprise."

"Sorry Luci, my arm is injured and I can't pick you up today," Syryn informed the round red eyes that were looking into his soul with the pure admiration and love that could only come from a child.

"I want to help Syryn," the kid replied with a seriousness that belied his age.

The amused alchemist held Luci's hand and lead him to the dining table. "How do you want to help?"

The redhead bowed his head to think, adopting the same pose that Alka would often make when thinking. Head bowed and a finger curled over his chin, he replied, "I will help feed you, fold clothes, wash your back, and cut the plants – if Syryn wants."

Magnus who was stuffing his face without care dramatically clutched at his heart. "Luciiii, what about me?"

The redhead took a good look at Magnus' uninjured arms and ignored him. Needless to say, the fire mage received -1000 damage to his feelings.

It was then that the tinkling sound of their doorbell interrupted the cosy conversation they were having. Alka was busy cracking eggs over a saucepan so Syryn volunteered to check who was at the door. Magnus argued against it but the alchemist waved his concerns away telling them it had to be Artemus.

The alchemist was sure that the visitor was Artemus because he had seen the key that the anti mage had left behind on the kitchen table after a drink of water in the kitchen.

He made his way past the hallway and reached out to click the latch of the door when Syryn felt the familiar pull in his gut that warned him of something strange afoot. Syryn had always trusted his instincts. Hand hovering over the latch, the mage flipped through a dozen scenarios in his head none of which satisfied him.

The bell rang again and Syryn's guts once again reminded him that this was a bad idea.

"Syryn?" Alka was standing outside the kitchen door where it met the hallway. The alchemist shook his head and gestured for the plant mage to go inside.

Trust me. Get inside.

The plant mage obeyed without a word. Syryn was their smartest and strongest mage. Alka trusted that Syryn knew what he was doing.

The bell rang again and Syryn unlatched the door, ready to defend himself or run if that's what it came to. Body set in tense lines, he threw open the only thing that separated him from whatever it was that was sending his instincts into a tizzy.

If anyone would have asked Syryn to guess what was behind that door, he never would have answered correctly because the answer would not appear even in his wildest dreams.

The man whose presence could even steal the thunder of all the world's monarchs together in a room stood at his door with a genial tilt of his lips. Pomegranate red eyes with flecks of gold in them narrowed into a smile that lit up the stranger's heart-achingly desirable face.

From the arched brows like the wings of a soaring raven to the locks of midnight black hair that fell over his shoulders with languid grace, not a single strand was out of place.

"Syryn," the same low voice like silk to Syryn's senses. "Won't you invite me inside?"

For a second, Syryn contemplated slamming the door shut and jumping out through the back windows to start a new life as a barmaid somewhere in the next kingdom. Fortunately, common sense prevailed over the fear that reminded him of how powerful this man was.

Defaulting to flirt mode was the smartest thing that Syryn would do that day, "I don't invite strangers into my home but you're so attractive that I'm inclined to invite you into my room," he crooned at the beautiful man while leaning against the door with his arms crossed.

The stranger angled his head elegantly and chuckled, "aren't you a bold flirt, young one?"

It was the story of Syryn's life – flirting with dangerous older men whose kill counts exceeded the number of hairs that were starting to grow in Syryn's unmentionable places.

"It got your attention didn't it?" He smirked up at Traxdart even as a hundred butterflies went to town in his guts. No one in their right minds had ever dared flirt with the demonic emperor so openly. To hit on him without fear of deadly repercussion - it distinguished only the most brain dead of fools and those that had no idea of who Traxdart was. Syryn sought to convince the demonic emperor that he was the latter.

The man seemed to consider it for a moment. It was eerily silent in the dark hallway and Syryn's feet ached from wanting to bolt away.

"You had my attention since the day you came into this world, child," Traxdart softly answered. The words sent a shiver down Syryn's spine. This man's tightly leashed power and cold, ethereal beauty had captivated Syryn when he had first laid eyes on his emperor. Even now, the magnetism that drew him in towards the man was still an ember alight inside Syryn.

He feigned confusion at the demon's words. And when Traxdart made to move through the hallway, Syryn panicked for a moment. Without thinking, he reached out and clamped a clammy hand around Traxdart's arm.

The demonic emperor froze in his steps. He slowly turned back to Syryn, gaze drifting to where the alchemist was holding onto his arm. A thrill of terror shot through Syryn but he didn't let go.

"I apologise. I have forgotten the laws of the world," the emperor quietly informed Syryn. "I saw your impressive fight with the anti mage today. And so I found myself wanting to speak with you, Syryn. Forgive my intrusion."

Before Syryn could reply, Magnus came out to check on them. He appeared relaxed but Syryn could see the alertness in the fire mage so well disguised under the lazy demeanour.

"What-" Magnus blurted out and aborted his words. His eyes were fixated on the beautiful stranger whose presence seemed to fill the hallway just by standing there.

Syryn fearfully looked to the emperor but there was no killing intent coming from the man. He wondered what Traxdart must have been thinking about being stared at by a human as if he was a piece of jewellery.

Magnus snapped out of his stupor and turned to Syryn, "a friend?"

"A fan of mine" Syryn answered with a cocky grin. He was a hundred per cent sure that Traxdart was here to take a look at both demon half breeds.

The emperor was being courteous enough that Syryn wondered if that was the only reason he had come to them for. If Traxdart so desired, he could just cart them both away unhindered by the combined attacks of all mages in the house. He hoped that the man would leave after satisfying his curiosity. After all, Traxdart always preferred to handle his half breed minions with care.

"Stay for a cup of tea. You're the first fan to approach me so I'll sit with you for a while," Syryn told the man while leading him inside.

The surrealness of the situation finally began to sink in when Syryn watched his housemates laugh at a funny anecdote the demonic emperor was telling them. The emperor himself was in their apartment, quite relaxed on a kitchen chair, and sipping on a cup of honey tea.

"Oh my god.." he breathed out. And when the doorbell rang again, Syryn reconsidered the window that was closest to them.

"I'll get it," Magnus took a look at him and volunteered.

A minute later, Artemus came striding in with Magnus. His onyx eyes were calm but there was a sharp appraisal in the way he looked at the stranger in their kitchen. Syryn was now certain that Artemus was immune to beauty. How could he not bat an eyelid at Traxdart? The anti mage was abnormal.

Artemus took the seat right next to Traxdart and made himself comfortable. He was hyper wary of the stranger. Syryn knew this because of how the anti mage had parked himself right next to the man, proximity that Artemus avoided under normal circumstances.

The demon emperor, an ex-demon lord, an anti mage and a mage seated in a line. It was like the beginning of a bad joke. Syryn contemplated what his night had come to.

"Who are you?" Artemus opened without preamble.

"Traxdart," the demonic emperor answered easily.

Shit! Syryn thought with shock. He hadn't just expected the man to spit out his real name so carelessly. Red hadn't appeared - a smart move, really - so Syryn was the only one in the room aware of exactly who this great personage was. Well, not exactly, because Traxdart could not appear on their plane as himself. This was just a pale imitation of the demonic emperor, a puppet where a measure of his consciousness inhabited.

"I warned my students not to let in strangers but it seems they are incapable of following the most basic of orders for self-preservation," the anti mage spat out a few inflammatory words with a straight face. Immediately, Syryn felt a rock drop in his stomach but his fears were assuaged.

Traxdart showed no signs of having taken offence. His amber flecked eyes lingered on Syryn and then Lucien without giving away any hints as to what he was planning for them.

And when he spoke, he seemed amused, "It sounds like I've overstayed my welcome."

Traxdart's long tapered finger was curled over the handle of his teacup with easy elegance. With a clink, he set it down on the table and swept his gaze one last time over Artemus. And when he turned his eyes to Syryn, the boy understood what Traxdart had sensed - Syryn's essence inside the anti mage.

The emperor made no move to spill his secrets. He quietly allowed Syryn to escort him to the door under the heavy gazes of all his housemates.

"Syryn, you've entertained the foolish whims of a lost stranger," Traxdart turned those gorgeous eyes on him and they were friendly. Syryn's words were lodged in his throat, unable to form meaning. He was overwhelmed by the events of the night.

"I hope we meet again, soon," Traxdart told the quiet boy. And without waiting for Syryn's reply, the emperor stepped out into the moonlight and faded like mist.

The alchemist finally unclenched the knot in his stomach and sighed. It felt like a blade hanging over his neck had been removed. But the night was not done with him yet.

"Syryn, let's play a game of who fucked up," he heard the voice of Artemus behind him, "cause one of you fucked up tonight." The anti mage had never sounded more furious. Syryn could not flirt his way out of this.

"Professor-"

"Get inside," the words were softly spoken but it cracked like a whip.

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