Tiefling Boyfriend: Mercutio 2 (complete)

After Tyrone and I were married, we started plotting how to buy our own house. His basement dwelling under the shop was fine and all when it was an affair, but for a married couple it just didn’t suffice. We started pinching pennies where we could, trying to save up. I even began venturing into turning my writing into something.

I started gathering my collections of writings, scripts, and whatever I had tucked away. It had been Tyrone’s idea that I bring my writing into daylight. Before that I excused it as merely a hobby. Tyrone and my mother were the only ones who even knew about it, and no matter how good they said it was I took it with a grain of salt. They loved me, of course they enjoyed it. But soon Tyrone expressed to me that I should take my writing to the world, because it was worth it.

“I don’t know,” I grumbled one evening as I went through a script. 

“I do,” Tyrone insisted. “Don’t second-guess yourself. Put your name on it and be proud of what you’ve done. Not many people can write their own name, let alone an entire play like you have.”

I scoff as I look over the page. “Maybe I shouldn’t put my name.”

Tyrone arched a brow. “What?”

“I mean like, not my real name, a pseudonym or something.” I grimaced as I stared at the page. I crossed out my own name. “Perhaps something that would suit a more theatrical person.” I touched the quill to the paper, writing out a new name for myself.

“Mercutio?” Tyrone mumbled as he read it. “Well, it’s theatrical, all right.”

I smiled to myself as I looked at the name. It looked good, and it felt right. I glanced up at Tyrone and kissed his jaw. “I feel a bit better now.” I gathered up the pages and tucked them aside.

“Whatever helps.” He kissed the top of my head. “My sweet Mercutio,” he whispered in my ear.

I beamed at his words and happily turned to the page to write.

I sold a few short stories at first - nothing major, just things that would be printed in the paper, but it got us money. It took time to build, as all things do, but eventually I was being asked for things to publish in the paper. People were reaching out, wanting my work, and soon one of my plays sold. 

Tyrone and I purchased a new house together, something small still, but it was grander than anything either of us had ever lived in. Tyrone kept up his business, and I was able to write to support myself. 

“It’s strange, don’t you think?” Tyrone asked me one day. He had come home from work and was undressing in front of the fire.

“What’s strange?” I looked at him over my desk, ogling my husband as he stretched his feet out when taking off his boots. 

“All of this.” His voice was soft and gentle. His eyes looked around the room before focusing on me again. “That two people like us could build a life for ourselves.”

I stood up from my desk, letting my shirt billow open. “You make it sound like we never had a chance to start with.” I strode over to him, taking a seat in his lap. 

Tyrone’s hand grazed up my back, and he pressed his lips to my shoulder. “Neither of us were given much of a start. Half-breeds with nowhere to go, no matter what half we leaned into.”

My tail wrapped around his leg as he spoke.

“When I first met you, I saw a reflection of myself. Someone who knew, someone who would understand.” He pressed his forehead against the back of my shoulder. “I found comfort in you, because of how beautiful and confident you were. I never had that growing up, I always hid, always shied away. I go into a hidden back room and make shoes. I’m so happy I found a life with you, Mercutio,” he whispered.

“Then lift your head, look at me, and be proud.” I took hold of his face and raised his head up, planting the biggest kiss I could muster on his lips. “You are mine forever. You know this.”

“Never a doubt about that,” he chuckled. “But I’m still amazed when I think about it. We have such a wonderful home, and your writing is only going further and further.” He took a deep breath and sighed loudly. “I hate to say it, but I am so scared to be happy about the future.”

I frowned at him. “Why do you say this? To terrify me? To hurt me?”

He shook his head. “No! Of course not.” He took hold of my hand and squeezed it. “I am saying this because, if I seem strange, it is because of my own fear.”

“You're scared to be happy?” I scoffed.

He nodded. “It feels too good to be true. All my life I felt as if I were not worth it, and now that I have worth…” He laughed softly. “I feel so silly.”

“There is nothing to be afraid of, sweetie.” I swiped my hand over his cheek and tucked his hair back. “We have everything we could possibly need. We're safe. We’re in love. I understand what you are saying - trust me, I do - but I assure you it is okay to be happy. There is no rug waiting to be pulled out from under us.”

He sighed heavily and kissed me, pressing his body against mine. “Okay, I believe you.”

“Finish undressing,” I purred into his ear. “I have a love scene to write and I am without inspiration. I am hoping you can help me find some.”

His smirk grew and his long lashes fell to his cheeks. “Go wait for me in bed.”

“It doesn’t take place in a bed, my love,” I purred into his ear. “It takes place as two lovers hide on the veranda. The world is cold, but their bodies are heated. They take comfort in one another, making love in the open air as they strain to keep their voices hushed.”

“You don’t sound like you’re lacking any inspiration at all,” he laughs as me. “It sounds as though you are full of it.”

“I’m full of something,” I leered. “But it isn’t you and that bothers me.” I kissed him again before I rose from his lap. “Hurry and meet me outside.”

“It’s cold, you sure about that?” Tyrone laughed. “I’ll meet you on the bed.”

“It can’t be that cold, besides I have you to keep me warm.” I went outside, stepping onto the veranda, but as soon as I threw the doors open I regretted everything. I slammed the doors shut, then went back to the bedroom where Tyrone was laying on the bed.

“Told you so,” Tyrone said with a smirk as he spread out.

“Just be quiet.” I climbed on top of him and pinned his arms over his head. “You’re gonna lay there and take it. You got it?”

He just grinned up at me. “Told you.”

Things back then seem so far away now when I look at them. It’s like glancing back at your reflection in a foggy mirror. You know what’s there and what is looking back at you, but you can’t make out the edges, you can’t be too sure. 

It was coming to be winter, and one of my plays was opening soon. Things were growing hectic, and the encroaching of harsh weather had added to Tyrone’s workload as well. We had not seen each other much, and when we did we were exhausted, so not much happened. 

“You should go see your mother,” Tyrone said one evening as we relaxed in bed.

“Why do you say that?” I sighed. My brain was fuzzy and clogged up from the work of the day. I had rewrites to do as well as a slew of other chores. It felt like my pipes were gummed up with pudding.

“When’s the last time you saw her?” he yawned.

I grunted in reply.

“Exactly. You should go see her soon.”

“She’ll be going to the play. I can see her then,” I mumbled into my pillow. 

“No, I mean it.” Tyrone stretched his arm out over the covers and placed his hand on my back. “Go see her soon. It’s just a gut feeling.”

I rolled over in bed and moved his hand to my face. “What’s got you so worried?”

“Nothing.” His eyes were closing. “Don’t you want to see her?”

I snuggled up close, putting my arms around him and laying my tail over his side. “Of course I do. But I’m so busy.”

His arm became my pillow as we both fell asleep mid-conversation. The topic never arose again. In fact, it never crossed my mind. I truly wanted to go see my mother, I always did, but there just never seemed to be time anymore. 

Then, as I watched over rehearsals on a particularly cold day, Tyrone came running into the theatre. He grabbed me up from where I sat and held onto me as tight as he could. He started sobbing, and I had no idea why.

I held on to him as realisation settled on me. I felt heavy, but I had no idea what to do with myself. I was confused, bewildered. No, no, this couldn’t be right, this couldn’t be the truth. Tyrone held my face in his hands as he looked at me.

“I’m so sorry, I just got the news. I’m so sorry.” His tears ran freely, while mine never seemed to come to the surface.

I returned home to find the store ransacked and half-burnt down. My mother was gone, or at least, the best of her was. 

I was told she was robbed. She had tried to stop it. A lantern must have been knocked over and started the fire, but my mother had been killed, pure and simple. I was told they had suspects, but that didn’t do anything to settle my growing anger. I wasn’t sad, I was angry. I had never felt such hatred in my veins, no matter what foul words had been thrown at me and my mother. I felt ready to foam at the mouth the longer someone talked to me.

My mother was gone and there was someone in the world who was to blame. They were free and without a care in the world. I would make them care. I would make them regret it. I would give them no mercy. At least, that’s what the anger gave to me. The anger gave me nothing but misery and anguish. It fed a dark part of me that I had buried deep long ago. 

“You haven't cried, not even once.” Tyrone approached me. The days had bled together. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. 

“And?” I grunted.

“You need to cry, Mercutio. You need to let it out. Holding it all in won’t do any good.” Tyrone took hold of my hand. “Please, let it out.”

I snatched my hand away and laid myself over my writing desk. “How can I let it out when her murderers are still out there? How can I let go of anything when I have nothing to hold on to?” I dug my nails into the desk, leaving deep divots. “What do you expect me to do, my love? How am I supposed to grieve when nothing has been done other than the digging of a grave?”

Tyrone grabbed my shoulders. “I know you’re angry. I am angry too…”

I sat up in a fury. “If you are angry, then you should know! You should understand! I have no time to grieve!” I glared at him and stood up from my desk, shoving him away and falling backwards.  I stumbled, grabbing the runner on the mantel, which knocked over the candlestick. It fell. I sat there for a long moment until the wax began to drip on me.

“The rug is pulled out,” I whispered.

Tyrone came to my side and helped me up off the ground. “It’s going to be okay. We just need to...”

I gave him a harsh glare again. “We?” I pulled away the wax on my forehead as I moved away from him. “There is no ‘we’ in this situation, there is only...” I stopped myself when I saw the expression on his face, and I let my shoulders fall. “I’m sorry,” I whispered guiltily.

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s… it’s fine. You’re hurt.” His smile was uncertain and weak. “I just want to help you.”

My tail had curled itself around my own leg. “I know, but I don’t think I’m good to anyone.” I moved towards the door and took my cloak. “I need to get away for awhile.”

“Mercutio,” Tyrone said sternly.

I smiled up at him weakly. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry.”

I returned home, and stood in the ashes of my mother’s store. Harsh winds blew all around me, whipping my cape and making my tail coil around my waist for warmth. I hunched my shoulders as I gazed at the black, charred remains. Hot tears rose in my eyes, stinging in the cold. I looked up to the sky as snow began to fall. My eyes locked onto the moon, her half-face peering out of the sky as if spying on me.

My breath came in shudders. Soon I was taking in hard, shallow breaths that made my chest throb with pain. Each breath stung, hurting me as I tried to swallow the scream that wanted to claw out of my throat. The scream escaped, echoing in the air and ruffling the trees. The snow continued to fall, following me as I sank to my knees.

I cried into the charred marks on the floor and they looked as if they were opening up. A faint glow came from within them, as if the embers were waking up to finish what they started.

I pulled away as the lines glowed bright red and stretched out. They grew, spinning, then forming a circle. It spun around and around before sinking down into an open maw that spewed out darkness and ash. From within a woman stepped out. She was draped all in black, but her body was very exposed. Her deep blue skin was almost the same hue as mine, but I felt no kinship to her.

I scurried backwards as she strode towards me. Her long legs stopped before me, but I would not look up at her.

“I heard your screams,” she breathed. “Your pain has not been ignored. A mother knows when to come to her child.”

I held my breath, still gazing at her feet and legs. I was more terrified than ever to look up at her face.

“You’ve been hurt. You’ve been robbed. Revenge is what you seek.” Her voice was a low growl, hungry and vicious. She knelt down before me, her long hair sweeping over her face. “Look at you, my beautiful boy. It pains me to know you’ve suffered so.”

“Who are you?” I choked the words out of a strained throat. 

“Fierna.” She spoke the word in a low purr. “You may not know me, but I know you. I have known you from the moment you quickened in my womb.” She pulled her hair back, revealing a beautiful yet striking face. Her horns curled up and back from her forehead the same as mine, but her eyes - oh, gods - her eyes should not have belonged to anyone.

“No,” I shook my head. “No. My mother was Chell. She was…”

“She raised you, yes, and an affable mother she was. Your father could not handle you, so he gave you away.” She reached out and touched my cheek. “But I have always watched over you.”

I pulled away from her, and she stood again. “My mother was Chell! What am I supposed to believe, if not that? You can say you’re my mother, but where have you been?”

She remained silent and blank. “I see your pain, my child. I feel it as if it were my own.” She clasped her hands around her chest. “I want to end it for you. I want to protect you.”

I blinked more tears from my eyes as I looked up at her. “How?” I spat. “How can this possibly all go away? Whatever you are, how can you stop it?”

Firena tilted her head. “I can help you bring justice to Chell.” She moved over to one of the burnt support beams and whisked her fingers over the top. As ash and smoke followed her fingertips, the shapes of men formed. “These men are the cause of your agony, and those that snuffed out your mother’s life so harshly.”

“The fur traders...” My voice was a croak.

Firena clenched her fists around the smoke shapes and crushed them. “So you know them already.” She glanced back at me with those haunting eyes. “Allow me to give you the power to defeat them. In return, I ask you come and live with me.”

My mouth was horribly dry. “Why would you want that?”

She strode toward me again. “Because, my son, there are many things a mother needs, but her child is always a priority.”

I still didn’t believe her. But my mother, Chell, was dead without justice. I managed to rise up and look Fierna in the eye. “Fine. I don’t care anymore.”

She smiled and embraced me. Her hand pressed against back of my head so my face rested on her shoulder. “I am so happy to have you with me, now and forever.”

She rubbed down my back, and it felt as if there was fire in my lungs. I tried to push away, but she held me fast, her arms like a vise around me. “Breathe deep of it,” she whispered into my ear. “Hold it fast within your chest.”

I clawed at her back, trying to escape. My throat felt like it was full of ash and flames. I cried and screamed, and yet all she did was hold me. Once she released me, I gasped in lungfuls of the cold air. “What did you do to me?” I wheezed. Thick clouds of steam floated from my mouth. “What did you do?”

“I gave you power most divine.” She held out her hand, and a small ball glowed there. It stretched out wings and a tail, taking the shape of a small imp. “Taking Darling with you. They will help you understand the path you now walk.”

Despite myself, I was taken by how cute Darling was. They blinked at me with wide black eyes, and fluttered in the air for a moment as they took me in. They had dark reddish skin, long ears, and a tail similar to my own.

“Darling, watch over him for me,” Fierna murmured. “Help him home once the job is complete.”

Darling chirped and looked back at me with a wide smile, showing off a mouthful of sharp fangs. 

“Wait! I...” Fierna was gone before I could even speak. I was left suspended between worlds, or at least that was how it felt. 

I glanced back to Darling, whose wings buzzed more than flapped.  “Darling, huh?” I scoffed. I then out my arm and let Darling come to rest upon me. They settled on my shoulder, then looked up at me with another big grin.

I didn’t stay long. If had been given the power Fierna promised, I wanted to use it as soon as I possibly could. I wanted to take care of what had been started and allow my mother to rest while her murderers burned elsewhere.

I found them at the bar, the same one where Tyrone had rescued me from my anger years ago. He wasn’t here now, so no one would spared. My anger would be fulfilled, quenched in the bloodbath. I had no time to be frightened of it. When I first used it, and a ball of fire hit one of the traders, I felt a wave of glee wash over me. I was attacked, beaten to the ground, but I called forth more fire, which brought me to my feet again. 

I’m not sure if it was Darling who was guiding me and showing me how to use my powers, or if it was a natural predisposition inside of me. It was anger that powered me, and hatred that guided my fire. I cast Hell upon the bar, and I know it was not just the traders I killed, but so many more. Whoever did not escape the bar did not escape me either.

I stood in the ruins, the embers and ashes, and looked up at the sky as the snow fell. The blood was cooling, turning to steam in the cold night air. The taste of copper lingered on my tongue as I breathed it into my aching lungs.

Darling came to rest on my shoulder and chirped to me. “Right,” I whispered to them. “Let’s go home.”

As I walked away, I knew I was never going to be free again. I was lost, aimless and alone. I could never go home. I had to abandon it. I had to desert Tyrone. It would be best for him to forget me and move on with his life. He deserved better now. I was no longer a man good enough for him.

I was welcomed into Fierna’s home with open arms. Her tight embrace wrapped around me again, holding me so I could not escape. She needn’t have bothered. I had no more will to run. “You will always have me.” She slipped her fingers under my chin and tilted my head up. “No one loves you like your mother.” Her grin was not a comforting one. It was vicious, even threatening. “Come now. You should rest.”

It felt like I was being led into the dragon’s den. To this day, it still does. When I walk the corridors, I feel as though there is a creature breathing down my neck.

Fierna gave me a room that evening, already prepared for me. She had been waiting on the moment, or any moment, when I would take her offer of power. There was very little of motherliness in her, but she tried, at least. “Make yourself comfortable,” Fierna told me. “I’ll let you have the evening, but in the morning…”

“No,” I cut her off. “Tell me now. Why am I here?”

A proud look crossed her face, and she smiled at me. “Very well. Take a seat.”

We sat down before the fireplace, and Darling curled up in her lap. “I have a very special job for you - one that may not make the most sense, but your talents suit it perfectly.” She stroked Darling, petting them like a lapdog. “Over there.” She pointed, and my eyes followed her gesture to a writing desk. “That is where you shall work.”

I furrowed my brow. “Whatever hellish place this is and I am to have a desk job?”

She smiled again. “Forgary, dissent, lies, and malice. You’ve written about all of them before. The last play you penned featured a woman who blackmailed all her friends and family.” She tilted her head to the side. “I loved it.”

“She was murdered at the end,” I reply blankly. 

She giggled. “Yes, she was.”

I shook my head. “Wait a minute - I only just finished it. Not even Tyrone had read it.”

“I’m a fan,” Fierna purred.

I scowled at her. “So you want me to write false documents? What about?”

“I want you to scribe pages that will make the world burn, my son.” She moved Darling off her lap as she rose from her chair. “That is why you are here. That is why you were born. The deal was struck long ago, and you will be my instrument of revenge.”

A shiver went down my spine to my tail, which had wrapped itself around the leg of my chair. “My birth?”

“Your father, the moron,” she clicked her tongue. “He has such strong hatred in him, enough to attract me. We agreed to a deal. I would get you, and he would get his own revenge.”

“And what revenge would that be?”

“I told you,” she sniffed, “You’re going to help the world burn, and from the ashes, his blood will rise.” She came to my side and kissed my forehead. “Rest well, my son. Your work begins tomorrow.” Her fingers ran through my hair and the smile that pursed her lips, once again, felt to me like a threat. This was her lair, and she was the dragon.

As she walked away from me I put my head in my hands. Darling came over, his wings buzzing until he landed on my lap. My work, she said, would begin, but I had a feeling it would never end. 

I would wake in the morning to find my desk opened up with a stack of work to one side. As Fierna told me, I was to create false documents, pen letters, and otherwise create dissent between the kingdoms. It was through this work that I discovered my supposed father was a nobleman - Charles Lavette, a powerful warlord of sorts who desired nothing except more power.

When I stopped working and left my room to wander the dragon’s den, Darling followed. They came and went from my quarters, taking my pages and bringing in more for me. I found I could go down into the cellar, but I could not go any further upstairs than where I was.

I found myself strangely entranced by my new work. I grew giddy at the idea of using my words to afflict people and cause their tempers to flare, their tears to rise, and chaos to reign in their breasts. I was shocked by how unconflicted I was by the harm that would be inflicted by my pen.

I grinned, gazing upon my works so mighty, knowing they would cause all who read them to despair. Oh gods, I was born for this. But more than that, I enjoyed it.