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Never Give a Yandere a Bolter [A Cliche (Yandere) 40k Romcom] Ch.30
🕑 Added 2023-06-24 05:53:48 +0000 UTC“Mon-keigh…” A smooth, cold, inhuman voice sneered.
Elodia looked past her father, seeing what he saw but not quite understanding where the hatred in his voice was coming from. The Mon-keigh… Humans… looked harmless. Sure, they were a bit more scruffy than her kin… and they were loud… And she could smell them from the tree she was perched in… Especially that one Human male who looked to be leading the group and whose scent made her ears twitch… But why did Father hate them so much?
If anything, Elodia thought the Humans were kind of charming! They had this air of energy and excitement around them that she’d never experienced amongst her own people. And they were obviously on an adventure! How could you hate someone on an adventure?
“But what could they be doing at the old ruins?” Elodia muttered, mostly to herself.
Of course, her father, Ilioch, overheard her, “Trying to sink their grubby, primitive fingers into our paradise, Daughter! That’s what they are doing!”
“They don’t look that primitive,” Elodia said innocently. “Look, that one there is even smoking the sacred herb. Can’t you smell it, Father?”
Ilioch’s sneer only deepened, “Yes, good nose, My Daughter. Truly, their perversions know no bounds. They do not even distill the sacred herb into mead or wine or oil, instead burning it straight like savages!”
“That’s not…”
Ilioch didn’t even let Elodia finish her thought, “Come, Daughter, the Dragonlord must be informed.”
He took off into the jungle without so much as a rustle of leaves, leaping from branch to branch with inhuman grace. To the untrained eye, his departure looked utterly unhurried. But to the eyes of another Aeldari, Ilioch was practically scrambling and stumbling.
“Oh, boo…” Elodia sighed and pouted.
Still, with one last longing glance toward the Humans, Elodia followed her father. Neither of the Eldar Exodites noticed that their presence had not gone completely unnoticed. In another tree close by, golden armor blended in impossibly with the sunlight streaming through the leaves. The massive golden figure stood from his perch as supernaturally sharp eyes tracked the leaving Exodites.
“As young Sona would say, ‘how interesting~’…” Alastor whispered.
Elodia quickly caught up with her father, still pouting at his back as they dashed through the treetops of the dense jungle together. She had a pretty good idea of what would happen when they told the Dragonlord. It wasn’t fair. Why did they have to kill the cute little Humans? They hadn’t harmed anyone yet.
They made good time on their journey back to the tribe. Even without their Dragon-mounts, Elodia and her father were still Aeldari. They moved with the grace and speed of gods. Their inhuman physique gave them unnatural balance and made each leap from branch to branch as simple as stepping across even ground.
Elodia used their journey back to calm herself. It would not do to pout in the Dragonlord’s presence. Even though she was nearly 180 cycles old, Elodia was still regarded as a child by her tribe and not being able to control her emotions would only further that belief.
So she breathed deeply and calmly, letting herself bask in the sensation of movement. She felt her muscles coil and spring with each leap and bound. She felt the breeze against her sensitive skin. She felt her mind reach out to the world around her, brushing up against the various creatures that called her paradise home.
Though… as she got older, her homeworld started to feel less and less like the paradise she remembered from her childhood. Oh, the world stayed the same. It always did. For an Exodite’s world was a study in harmony. The plants, animals, and Exodites all lived in perfect balance under the watchful eye of the World Spirit, from the smallest bacterium to the largest Megadons.
When she was young, the world was still so fresh, so new. Every day was a day worth exploring. Every day was a day worth learning something new. But as she grew, the world began to dull. She began to see the boring routines her people had fallen into and the lack of excitement in their lives.
For most of her kin, the simple life of an Exodite would have been enough. They would have been content and happy to work with their hands, live off the land, and find peace within themselves. But Elodia was not like most of her kin. She craved adventure! She craved excitement! She craved new experiences and strange oddities she could marvel at!
Even training to become a Dragon Knight did not satisfy her desire for adventure. Though the companionship of the Megadon she bonded with was a nice consolation prize. Sometimes she felt little Spiffy was the only friend she had in the world. She’d talk to him for hours when they were alone, laying out her dreams and her plan to join one of the Craftworlds when they next visited.
He’d grown so much since she’d first hatched him. Sometimes still she couldn’t believe she could lean her whole body against his side or sprawl herself out across his back. He was her one true companion. And of course, Father didn’t approve of what she’d named him… What was wrong with ‘Spiffy’? He was spiffy!
A huff almost broke her imposed sense of calm. Father… There was another sensitive subject. They used to be so close. She’d idolized him. But just as with her feelings toward her homeworld, their relationship had soured with age. When she reached her mid-100s, they found themselves constantly at odds.
Something that Father dismissed as ‘teenage rebellion’. Elodia knew better though. It wasn’t just rebellion. Sure, she chaffed under the controlling and demanding nature of his love. But as she got older, she also came to notice things about Ilioch that she hadn’t as a child.
He… He was so dismissive of her dreams and anything different from him. So hateful toward everything he deemed lesser. He was arrogant and controlling and repressed and while Elodia still loved him as her father, she hated who he was as a person… And his attitude wasn’t even a rarity amongst their kin. He was almost a stereotype. A typical, ‘normal’ Aeldari.
Even now, Elodia knew he could sense her frustration and discontent. They were Aeldari. They communicated just as much through psychic thoughts as they did through words or expressions. She could certainly feel his burning hatred towards the Mon-keigh and his steely determination to do what he thought was right.
But of course, Ilioch would not say anything. He wouldn’t bring up her feelings or even acknowledge her opinion. Proper Aeldari controlled their emotions. It was a necessity because of She-Who-Thirsts, but Ilioch and other Aeldari like him took the idea to illogical degrees.
All of those things — the desire for adventure, her perceived immaturity, and her problems with her father — led to Elodia’s first impression of the Mon-… the Humans. They were something new, something interesting, something different from her normal routine life. And now Father was going to have them all killed before she even got the chance to talk to them!
Elodia ruthlessly smothered her feelings before her father could sense the further indignation she felt for an opportunity lost. They were quickly approaching the village anyway. She sighed, putting on the familiar mask she always wore around her kin. The mask of the dutiful daughter and ‘normal’ Dragon-rider-in-training.
They landed in a small clearing without even a puff of dust or spores. Elodia looked around, allowing the familiar sight of her home to calm the rest of her frustrations. Even though she felt confined here, it was still home. The village was all she’d ever known, which was both the problem and comforting at the same time.
Shaking off the paradoxical nature of her feelings, Elodia followed her father as he made a beeline for the Dragonlord’s dwelling. They passed others of the tribe doing their daily tasks. Everything the Exodites did, they did by hand. Their food was hand-picked and processed and their drink was brewed with painstaking personal effort. Their clothes were woven from harvested thread or hand-crafted Wraithbone. Even the construction of their homes — which could have been relegated to the unmatched psychic potential of their minds — was done by the whole clan and their bonded Megadons.
They didn’t have any trouble getting into the Dragonlord’s lodge. The tribe was a tight-knit unit after all. Everyone knew each other and their only enemies on the Maiden World were the other Exodite tribes. And even then, they were more like rivals than true adversaries.
The Dragonlord was lounging near the back of his lodge, the largest building in the village. The lodge was more of a communal space than a single person’s dwelling, evidenced by the other tribe members scattered around the interior of the lodge.
The Dragonlord’s lodge was easily the most impressive intact building that Elodia had ever seen. It was made of polished wood with a gleaming Wraithbone spine that ran down the center of the lodge’s roof and split into the ground to support the whole structure. Pelts and furs and other trophies lined the walls and floor. A smoldering bonfire sat in the center of the lodge, its embers constantly being used for cooking and other food preparation.
But Ilioch ignored the displays of wealth and community, heading straight for the Dragonlord. He didn’t even acknowledge his fellow clan members, leaving Elodia to greet them in his stead. The Dragonlord looked up from his mediation as Ilioch approached, his gracefully-aged face set in a sober expression that had seen even the fall of the ancient Eldar Empire.
The Dragonlord sat cross-legged, resting his back against his bonded mount and life-long companion. His mount was easily the biggest Dragon any of them had ever seen. It was so big that the back wall of the Dragonlord’s lodge had been intentionally removed to make room for his mount. It was as ancient as the Dragonlord, having witnessed the fall of empires and the rise of Exodite society with him.
Intense eyes bore a hole in Ilioch as he stopped in front of the Dragonlord, winced, and put on the bare minimum of a bow. Then the Dragonlord’s eyes shifted to Elodia at Ilioch’s side and softened ever-so-slightly. Elodia gave him a small smile, all she could spare without completely dropping her mask. Though she was still sure the Dragonlord’s millennia of experience picked up on her hidden frustrations and inner conflict.
The Dragonlord — for that was all anyone in the clan knew their ancient leader as — had always had a soft spot for Elodia and she for him. He was a figure she felt she could trust and come to with her problems when she got too fed up with her father or the routine of Exodite life. Elodia saw him as something of a grandfather figure to her, something that was probably more literal than she realized given that almost all of the Exodites on this world were the Dragonlord’s descendants.
The wall of flesh and scales behind the Dragonlord shuddered with a breath, adding gravitas to his words as he spoke, “Greetings, Dragon Knight Ilioch. Greetings, Dragon Knight Elodia.”
“Dragon-Knight-in-training,” Ilioch sneered, rudely correcting the Dragonlord and not even giving his daughter the slight allowance of a title.
The Dragonlord ignored Ilioch, meeting Elodia’s gaze with just as much respect as he gave Ilioch — and maybe more, “What brings you before me?”
Though her heart warmed from the Dragonlord’s respect, Elodia knew better than to interrupt her father when he was in a mood like this. Ilioch puffed himself up with an unearned sense of importance. It was a simple coincidence that he and Elodia were the first ones to find the Humans who had invaded their world but Ilioch didn’t see it that way. In his mind, this was fate and he was the instrument that would purge their paradise of savages.
“I bring dire news, Dragonlord,” Ilioch reported. “The primitive Mon-keigh have returned to our world. Even now, they are pillaging the bounty of nature that is rightfully ours and poisoning our world with their vulgarity! We should gather our forces and set forth to exterminate the savages! We must! Before more Mon-keigh show up and it becomes too late!”
Ilioch’s declaration drew the attention of the clan members around them. The dozen or so high-ranking clansmen and women gathered around, listening closely as Ilioch pleaded his case to the Dragonlord. Many of them agreed with his declaration, made obvious by the hard looks and sneers on their faces at the mention of Mon-keigh on their homeworld. Ilioch, feeling the momentum building behind him, stood taller, already convinced of his victory. The rest of the crowd was easily swayed as he waxed poetic about how it was their duty and purpose to purge the ‘savage Mon-keigh’.
But the Dragonlord just remained silent. His piercing gaze cut deeply into everyone present. Ilioch was too caught up in his own hype to truly pay attention. Elodia gave the barest hint of a wince, just a minute twitch of her lips, but of course, the Dragonlord caught it. While her father and his peers were working themselves into a murderous frenzy, Elodia was seemingly the only one against the idea.
The Dragonlord spoke again, his voice cutting through the hype like a hot knife, silencing everyone there, “… No.”
“What?!” Ilioch practically snarled, losing himself at the complete and utter refusal. “Surely, you misspeak, Dragonlord. The Mon-keigh is a blight upon our world! They must be excised and returned to the dust from which they came!”
The Dragonlord’s voice was calm, almost sagely with eons of wisdom behind it, yet also dismissive as if he was scolding a naughty child, “You know not what you speak of, child. You know nothing about the Mon-keigh. You do not know the dread of a million bodies bearing down on you like a never-ending tidal wave. You do not know the unease that comes with seeing their God-machines on the battlefield like walking mountains. You do not know the horror your actions will bring down upon our world!”
“B-But,” Ilioch stuttered, overwhelmed and losing his composure from the sheer weight of presence the Dragonlord wielded. “They are Mon-keigh! They are animals! They are an invasive species that must be put down at all cost!”
“My word is final, Ilioch. For the good of the clan — no, for the good of this world, we will not raise an aggressive hand to the Mon-keigh. Leave them to their business. If they attack us first, we will retaliate in kind but hopefully, that will not be necessary.”
Ilioch visibly fumed at the Dragonlord’s decision. A Human’s eyes would have only seen the frantic twitching of his ears but to an Aeldari, Ilioch may as well have been red-faced and screaming to the heavens. His trademark Aeldari self-control quickly reasserted itself but the momentary lapse did not go unnoticed.
When he stormed off, the more traditional, hardline members of the crowd followed. While some had been pacified by the Dragonlord’s words, others agreed with Ilioch. For a moment, the Dragonlord looked every year of his millennia-old age as he felt the clan split and fracture around him.
Still, all was not lost. Some had seen the wisdom in his decision. Others just trusted him enough to abide by it. Ilioch and the group that would split with him were a minority. By the grace of the World Spirit, the clan might still survive their foolish prejudice.
“Dragonlord…?” Elodia asked for his attention, having stayed behind despite her father’s departure. “I know my father… He will not heed your decision. Even now, I imagine he is gathering support to do the exact opposite.”
“I know, my dear Elodia…” the Dragonlord sighed. “Nothing I could have said would stop him. Like so many of our species before him, Ilioch’s arrogance and xenophobia have gotten the best of him. And they may just doom our world.”
“Surely there is something we can do, Dragonlord?” Elodia pleaded with the naivety and optimism of the young.
The Dragonlord didn’t immediately answer her, instead changing the subject slightly, “You saw these Humans as well, Elodia. Tell me, what did you think?”
“Well…” Elodia trailed off, unsure of herself.
“There is no need to deceive me. I only wish to hear your truthful opinion. I will never judge you, my dear,” the Dragonlord encouraged.
“I… was curious,” Elodia admitted. “They were interesting and new and exciting, almost magnetic with how I felt drawn to them. I wanted to talk to them, to learn and exchange experiences… even potentially form a bond or relationship…”
She tensed, expecting some form of backlash but the Dragonlord just nodded, “I suspected as much… I was much like you in my youth. It is almost nostalgic to see you wishing to walk the same path I did.
“Of course, the Humans of my youth were so very different than what they are today. They had a civilization that could have rivaled the old Aeldari Empire. They were advanced in both culture and technology, wise beyond the short history of their species. At their zenith, our people could have called them equals.”
“W-What happened?” Elodia asked, enraptured as always by the Dragonlord’s tales from his youth.
“Many things, my dear,” the Dragonlord shook his head sadly. “Their own creations rose up against them, putting a swift end to their golden age. Then our own species Fell and She-Who-Thirsts was born. Their reliance on the Warp for travel meant that their galactic empire fell into ruin just like ours. The entire galaxy was plunged into a dark age that still persists to this day.”
The Dragonlord snorted as a sudden look of humor and amusement came across his face, “Then there was that Revelation fellow. He was a fun guy before he got all in his head about ‘his responsibility to his species’… Though that is a story for another time…”
“Why are you telling me this, Dragonlord?” Elodia was confused but still in awe of her grandfather’s life experience.
“Because I need you to do something, my dear Elodia,” the Dragonlord said with a slight smile that did nothing to take away from the seriousness of his expression. “Something radical and dangerous. Something that just might lead to the survival of our clan. I need you to make contact with the Humans.”
“Dragonlord?! What would the others say?! I would be deemed a traitor to our race, would I not?” Elodia said in a hissed whisper, eyes darting back and forth as if nervous about being overheard.
The Dragonlord nodded commiseratingly, “I know, my dear. But you have already expressed interest in the Humans. And they must be informed of your father’s treachery. They need to know he does not act with the clan’s support. Maybe then they will spare the rest of us.”
“I-I…” Elodia hesitated, her mind racing. This was unbelievable and tragic yet oh-so-tantalizing. Her chance at adventure had come, given to her by a prejudiced father and the understanding of the Dragonlord himself. And all it would take was throwing away any relationship she had with her father and maybe even the rest of her clan.
Because while the Dragonlord would support her, others would not. Even those who accepted his decision. The tribe would look at her with disgust and disgrace for engaging with the savages that had set upon their shores. She may very well be cast out. Her father would certainly disown her.
But… “As you command, Dragonlord…”
