dorian ♕’s Comments (group member since Nov 28, 2020)

dorian ♕’s comments from the Grimoire’s Return. group.

As soon as she kissed him, Marcus felt the rush of power enter him. The sign of her, of ACE, of his witch. He loved it.

She was here.

And she was his.

As soon as Marcus parted from her, he rested his forehead on hers, panting a bit. “You don’t realize how fucking long I waited to do that. I’ve missed you’d so much. I never stopped loving you, no matter what happened, even with how cheesy that sounds.”

He looked at her in her blue eyes. “I love you. I live ToG so fucking much it HURTS.”

Marcus closed his eyes and bowed his head as Ace’s magic flowed from his shoulders. It seemed to waft over the crowd, covering them in a mist.

Well, this was quite unexpected.

He was used to having to become a nurse at the last second, made to stitch and mend other soldiers of his platoon. He had seen more blood and gore in a month than he did his entire life.

But now… they had Ace.

He looked at her, into her blue eyes that were glistening with power. And he simply said it:

“Ace. I love you too.”

Marcus winced at the blood that splattered onto his face as Ace murdered him.

That was truly the only way to describe it.

Blatant murder.

The guy slumped against him, and Marcus pushed him off, grabbing Ace’s hand to lift himself off. He pulled away from her, not wanting to confront the “I love you” thing just yet. He looked around.

Aenia was overtaking Illusium’s armies but by not, meaning he had to go to the med witches. He looked at Ace.

Marcus shook his head. His blood splattered hands. “Ace, your fine. Ace, you didn’t-“

He was cut off as a soldier whipped him back, choking his words off. Marcus coughed and sputtered as he hit the ground.

Now, a lesson in war, people: NEVER hit the ground.

Never.

It was the first thing Burroughs had taught Marcus, the first thing he learned when he joined Venandism.

When you hit the ground you die.

Marcus shook his head. They were having a conversation in the middle of a battle.

“You don’t— you don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Marcus, despite his personal feelings on the topic, did know that at least. Ace hadn’t done anything wrong. She wanted to protect her family, protect the land she grew up in.

He was just being selfish by trying to not let her and instead let her leave with him.

He wasn’t even sure if that would’ve worked. She never told him she even LIKED him.

As soon as Ace lunged towards him, Marcus twirled under her upraised arm, and shoved his sword up another soldier’s spine.

He was panting. But Ace was here. And that was what mattered.

He looked at her, the way she liked, the muscle she packed on, and he felt like he NEEDED to kiss her, or he would die.

Of course, she wouldn’t allow that after he tried to murder her.

But to be fair, she tired to kill him TOO.

“Ace. I’m sorry.” He said after a moment.

Marcus swallowed deeply for a moment, staring at her.

Maybe it was weird to think that someone covered in blood and sweat and dirt was beautiful, but he didn’t care.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Then before she could blink, he bounded forward and smoothly slid around her to stab a soldier in the gut. His eyes were alit with a fire that was extinguished two years ago.

“You might want to watch your back though. Would be quite TRAGIC if you died.” While still looking at her, he extended his arm behind him and stabbed another soldier in the neck.

Marcus smirked at her. She was still the short bratty girl he loved.

She was still alive.

Scar covered, yes, but if anything, that made her more beautiful and more… Ace. More of his witch.

“Don’t have to be thankful for—“ His eyes widened and he sucked his teeth. “Duck.”

Marcus stared.

She was alive.

Ashe was alive and Burroughs fucking knew this and he told him this a hundred damn times but Marcus never believed him and—-

There she was.

Marcus grabbed a dagger from his belt on his waist and flung it at the soldier at her back. “I don’t follow people. It is merely a coincidence that we happened to be in the same place at the same time.”

And he narrowed his eyes. “No one TOLD you to kill that man, you know. I could’ve handled it.”

Marcus fought through the army. Being that he was under a different legion (commanded by none other than Burroughs) he rarely saw flashes of the King’s soldiers, who wore gold to distinguish themselves.

Lowly common soldiers like him wore a bloodred.

He came face to face with one soldier, a man who stupidly didn’t wear a helmet. It was only luck that he didn’t die yet. Marcus swing low at the man, making him distracted as he tried to dodge the blade. As Marcus grabbed his other knife to stab the man, he collapsed in front of him.

Marcus stared at the body of the man, confused.

Then he looked up.

Blood came rushing out of his body as he came face to face with HER.

Marcus Aloysius Carnam was in battle.

There was something so… enhancing about it, the way he moved with the sword like it was his own, the way he lost himself in the blood and chaos and screaming.

It had been two years since Ace had died. It had been two years since he jumped the cause to protect Aenia from Illusium.

Two years since he renounced Venandism.

And he had loved every single minute, hours, day, MONTH, of it.

*TIMESKIP: two years since “The Reckoning” (the attack that began the war)*

Darian smiled at her, grabbing her chin to wipe her tears away. “You’re Fine. I understand it. I promise I do. And I’ll do my best to try to help you survive. I mean, it’s only fair, right?”

He stood up, letting the woman get a moment to herself, as he walked up to Mal. He just narrowed his eyes at Mal.

“I love you, cousin. I truly do. So, PLEASE, don’t make me regret making you my Advisor. Please.” Then he swallowed deeply. “Because I won’t hesitate to end your life. As a King, I have duties to do, and that means my country comes first. Even before my family.”




Marcus was going to lose it.

He wiped his tears frantically, then reared his head. “I wanna join the war.”

He looked at Burroughs. “Help me. Please.”

“Absolutely not.” Darian insisted, looking at Mal incredulously.

“Are you serious right now?” He asked of Mal, before moving to the girl. “Look. Ace, I saw you as a CHILD. I saw you grow up a bit. And doing this.. wanting to be involved in a war… it’ll KILL you. You want that?”

He had to try with the girl. He went to grab her hand, to hold it, to provide comfort, despite of the blood on her. His gold hair descended over his dark gold eyelashes, and as he reached for Ace, it painted more of a picture of an angel kneeling before his goddess.







Marcus sobbed. “I killed her.”

He said it over and over, there was no end to it. “I killed her. I killed her. I killed her i killed her i killed her i killed her i killed her—“

It was becoming frantic, the way he said it, there was no end.

He didn’t just CARE about Dante, but that was a conversation for another day.

“Mal. That’s the type of mindset our enemies have. You want to be like them? Attacking a land in the midst of a crisis?”

He knew Mal followed the thinking that in order to beat the enemy, you had to BECOME the enemy. It—

It was smart, Darian would admit, but it wasn’t okay.

It would corrupt you as much as it did the enemy.






Marcus woke up in an infirmary. Beside him sat Burroughs, looking at him worriedly. Marcus stared at him.

Then he remembered.

She was gone.

And for the first time in his life, he let Burroughs hold him, as he cried.

Darian blinked widely, before pulling Mal to the side to whisper to him.

“I’m sorry, that’s DANTE’S DAUGHTER??” Darian squinted at Mal, crazily.

He had been searching the streets for Cas and Dante, after managing to get back in contact with them. He didn’t see Ace much, though.

“If Dante was… yeah, he would KILL me. I’m not putting my childhood friend’s daughter in danger.”

Even if that was the only thing they were, not even BEST friends. Moving on front the fact that that’s all Dante and Darian were. Nothing ever more.

No matter how much he wanted it.

“I appreciate how much you’ve done in the three HOURS I’ve been King, Malory, I do, but this is just… can we even trust her?”

Darian winced at the loud sound of Mal hitting his head on the doors, and let go of his illusions.

“Shit. Mal, you okay?” He ran to Mal’s side, ignoring the girl. Then he paused. “Wait. Who exactly IS this girl?”

Darian was holding in a laugh. It was…

It was just so damn FUNNY to watch Mal stare at the crown questionably, as he tried to reach for it. Then, Darian motioned with his other hand, making his closet doors fly open.

Or, more, made it LOOK like they were.

“Why my crown right there, of course.” Darian pointed to Mal’s desk.

It was a small illusion, something he managed to work together by bending starlight through mirrors and such. On Mal’s desk was a small, glass crown, bedecked with jewels of the prettiest colors, and glaring brightly.

Darian smirked at Mal. “You don’t remember working on it?”

Darian raised a brow. “I require you to fix my crown.”

The thing was: he wasn’t wearing a crown.

At all.

So, logically, it wouldn’t make sense for Mal to attempt to, but that was besides the point. Darian stepped forward and looked around Mallory’s room. Despite Darian’s constant prodding, he had decided to keep his old room, with its messiness and hats astrew.

It was quite endearing, in a way, the way Mal clung on to things.