Chapter Text
When Rayne met Delisaster for the first time, he was twelve years old and in chains.
The morning he had been taken was Finn’s birthday. He’d wanted to finish repairing the handkerchief he had been slowly working on for his younger brother, but had run out of thread and decided to go outside for a quick check. On his way out, though, an older teenager with a large sword had attacked the homeless encampment they’d been staying in, and Rayne had found himself waking up hours after he’d passed out at the boy’s swordpoint in a dark and drab grand hall.
“Where am I?” Rayne tried to ask out loud, only to find that he was unable to speak. Someone had evidently cast a spell or used some sort of potion on him, but he still didn’t know why. What use would anyone have for a poor orphaned child, anyway…? Surely it couldn't be something like trafficking or magic harvestation?
(This, of course, was quite somber for a twelve year old to be considering, but Rayne had crossed that line of “too serious” a while ago.)
Rayne discovered the actual reason not even minutes later, when one of the most fearsome villains in the history of the Magic Realm walked into the hall, with the boy who had attacked him and his brother’s temporary home following close behind.
There were two other teenagers behind him, one with short white hair spiked up in a buzzcut and one with jet-black hair and square framed glasses holding a cup of… what looked to be pudding, potentially?
“ This is what you brought back from the encampment?” Innocent Zero, a man whose magic was so strong he could contend with even Master Wahlberg of Easton Academy, leveled an unimpressed gaze onto Rayne, who glared back with as much force as he could muster. “When I said to find a mutt for your brother, I didn’t mean to bring one like this .”
“It wasn’t our fault, Father,” the black-haired one spoke. “Famin got us kicked out of most of the stores we went to, and there weren’t any animals at the encampment. Delisa will understand. It’s not like there’s much difference between a pet and a human, right?”
“If he doesn’t want it, I’ll take it,” the buzzcut boy spoke, his eerie purple eyes fixed on a point above Rayne’s head. “I like its hair. I want it.”
“That is a child, not an it, Famin. There is still time, Father. If you want me to, I can try to look for something else for Delisaster’s birthday…”
“It’s alright,” Innocent Zero just shook his head. “Hopefully Epidem is right. That child’s ability is strong, but he’s quite the nuisance to work with when he’s not feeling up to cooperation…”
“...It's because he takes after Famin,” the eldest boy sighed.
Their chatter had Rayne curious as to who “Delisaster” was. From the way they talked about him, it sounded as if he was a spoiled brat… but of course, if it was Innocent Zero’s child, anything was possible.
“He should be coming down soon. Come, children. Do present your gifts in a tidy pile.” Innocent Zero directed, personally leading the buzzcut kid as the black haired and oldest kid both deposited large giftboxes into an orderly pile. “You don't want to ruin your younger brother's fun, after all.”
“Yes, Father,” the three chorused in unison, before falling silent as all four of them turned to stare at the door. Rayne held his breath, unsure of what would appear behind the doors when they opened.
“Heyyy~! Good afternoon, Father! Guess who's day it is today!” A boy, a little taller than Rayne himself appeared. With the long golden hair that fell to his waist and the overly ruffled dress shirt and shorts he was wearing, Rayne could have mistaken him for a girl.
“It's our Delisaster's birthday, of course,” Innocent Zero said with far too much grace and kindness in his voice to be genuine.
Even with that oddly indulgent tone of voice from the mass murderer, it still couldn’t offset the strangeness of the ‘birthday celebration.’ The room was still cold and dark, certainly not something fitting for this type of occasion, and the children stood at attention like soldiers by Innocent Zero’s side. The only child who was any different was the birthday boy, who was beaming as he ran around the room in wonder. Rayne wondered if he had ever been here before, then decided he probably had and had just forgotten. “We’ve brought out your gifts and cake already, of course.”
With a sharp jolt, Rayne realized that his limbs were being made to move forward for him. It was an unprecedented experience for the twelve year old child, who, having grown up much quicker than his peers, had never himself tried crawling around like an animal, unlike most kids would when bored. After a moment, he found himself seated in front of the pile of giftboxes that had been brought in, presumably for Delisaster.
“Here, Delisaster. It’s a pet, like you asked for.”
“But I wanted a puppy,” the boy pouted. “That's not a puppy. That's a boy.”
“He can be a dog if you'd like him to be,” Innocent Zero said simply. To anyone else, the conversation would have ended there, Innocent Zero’s meaning loud and clear. Whatever this Delisaster wanted, Rayne would have to do.
He didn't expect for the boy to burst out in indignant protest again, “I don't want a boy to be a dog, though! Put him back! I wanted a puppy!”
Though the bratty and childish display made Rayne feel an abject amount of horror, this was the closest he had come to freedom thus far. If he actually made it out of here all because of this spoilt youngest child… well, he wouldn't thank him, but he'd maybe say one or two blessings to him. Once.
“Delisaster, behave. Father didn't search so hard to find you a present just for you to be ungrateful for it,” one of the older sons said. “You can just pretend he doesn’t exist if you don’t like it that much.”
If Rayne could speak, he would surely have been spitting curses at them. His parents would be appalled if they’d seen what had happened to their son, surely…
“How about this, Delisaster? Instead of this boy being your dog, we’ll find you an actual dog. This one will be put away.” Rayne’s eyes widened at the words— once again, this was something he understood to be a threat. There was no way Innocent Zero would simply let him go out of the goodness of his heart… this was no doubt a thinly veiled way of saying to have him killed. “Famin can have him.”
“I don’t want Famin to have him, though…” Delisaster frowned. Rayne wasn’t sure which one of the children watching him was Famin, but he could definitely say that he would rather serve under a spoiled brat than a warmonger. “Ugh, fine. He can stay, but I still want a real dog! This guy, um… he can just be another Cellie, right?”
“Cell War is your caretaker. That… boy is not suited to stay in your presence.” Innocent Zero’s face darkened for the first time in his son’s presence, but it seemed that even that wasn’t enough to deter the other boy. Rayne would be impressed by his ignorance if not for the horrifying realization that his life depended on the demands the older boy made.
“But… this year, when everyone goes off to Walkis, I’ll be all alone! I need someone to keep me company, Father…”
“It’s a little too cruel to get rid of a child as young as this, isn’t it, Father?” The older boy spoke, then. “He had a younger brother, I think. Back at the encampment… it’s probably best not to provoke that child and fuel some sort of suicidal conquest. Even children’s grudges can become fatal mistakes in the future… I wouldn’t want Father to run into a hitch in the plan this early on.”
“...Alright. I see Doom has been thinking this through, then. In that case, Delisaster, I’ll leave this child to your care. See to it that he is behaving properly as your servant, and I’ll look into getting that dog for you.”
“Really?! Thank you, Father!” The boy beamed, before turning to Rayne, whose jaw suddenly felt sore all of a sudden— upon further investigation, he realized that he could once more move his mouth and speak. The boy helped him up from the cold ground, “Ah, before you say anything, you should probably drink something first. How’s grape juice sound?”
Rayne, though he was more mature than other kids his age, still had expectations of the people around him. He had expected Delisaster to ask if he’d wanted something a bit more… villainous, maybe. Like… the blood of his enemies. But given what he’d seen before, it seemed that he was just a spoilt teenager.
“...Grape juice… I haven’t tried it before.”
“Hm? Then I’ll have to show you. It’s good! Father says that I can drink wine when I’m older, but right now I have to stick to grape juice… well, anyway, we should be going back to my rooms. I don’t want Famin to get any dumb ideas,” Delisaster spoke at practically a mile a minute, speaking even as he dragged Rayne along through the long hallways. “I don’t really know how to take care of a person, so you should make friends with Cellie. He’s a lot better at that then I am, but I’m wayyy better with magic.”
“Is that so…?” Rayne couldn’t hide his incredulity, but it seemed that Delisaster didn’t care. It was a peculiar feature of the older boy’s, the disregard of his father’s rules that would continue even as they both grew into adulthood— of course, at the moment, Rayne had thought nothing much of it besides making it out to be a side-effect of raising such a spoiled child.
“Okay, then!” Delisaster beamed when they stopped in front of a set of huge gilded golden doors, pushing through the two double doors as he dragged Rayne into the apartments. Rayne, who had grown up in a comfortable suburb until the eve of his parent’s deaths, was completely blindsided by the blatant display of wealth.
“Here we are, then!” Delisaster turned back to smile at him, tugging on Rayne’s hand as he stood in the golden rays of light streaming through the ceiling-tall windows. “Welcome home!”
At that moment, Rayne— freshly kidnapped, twelve years old, bitter and scared and above all longing for his family— could only feel rage in his heart at the proclamation. This is not my home, he wanted to say. But in the house of an enemy, an overly trusting and hyperactive spoiled child was a better bet for freedom than the other inhabitants of this place.
“...Thank you.”
(If he could have foreseen his future, Rayne knew that his twelve-year old self would have jumped to try and kill him. But it’s too late to regret now, as he raises the hand of the devilspawn he swore loyalty to and presses a sweet kiss to his knuckles.
“Feeling up to talking now?” Rayne regards his tired out companion with what could be taken for a smirk.
“...Ugh, you’re the literal worst.”
“It’s your fault. Your face makes people want to bully you.”
“Huh?! How is that my problem?” Delisaster frowned. It reminded Rayne too much of the expression he’d worn the day they met.
“Well, you chose me, didn’t you?”
“...I’m going to sleep.”
“If you say so. Goodnight, Delisaster.”)