Imperialairways
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Summary
After Bahamut falls to Odin, Dion is taken captive—and made to suffer for it. Broken in body and spirit, he survives only by clinging to the unexpected kindness of Kihel, a twelve-year-old refugee turned apothecary-in-training who offers him unwavering compassion and quiet companionship, asking nothing in return. Their bond becomes his light in the darkness.
A story of resilience in the face of suffering, found family, and recovery.
Primary focus: Dion & Kihel (father-daughter). The only true romantic ship is Terence/Dion! But features unromantic instances of Dion with others.
Note: This AU departs from canon—roll with it. It takes place in the canon world but political details, character relations, and other events diverge. No Ultima.
CONTENT WARNING!!: Please mind the tags!! Chapters will have individual content warnings. Sexual assault against Dion occurs more than once in the story but will not be depicted erotically or in great detail. The story deals heavily with the aftermath/recovery.
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In the depths beneath the imperial palace, in a prison called the Aerie, lives a boy with amber eyes and dragon wings. Dion has never known kindness, never been treated as anything but a weapon—until nine-year-old Terence stumbles upon his cage and sees a person where everyone else sees a monster.
Over years of stolen visits and whispered promises, Terence teaches Dion to read, to hope, to believe he deserves more than chains and darkness. He brings him books and honey cakes, brushes his hair with gentle hands, and promises that one day they’ll see the world together.
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A loosely canon divergent AU where Bahamut is feared rather than revered. Sylvestre’s first heir is thought to have died at birth and Dion grows up in cell deep in the dungeons of Whitewyrm, raised to believe he is nothing more than a weapon. -
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Kihel lay on the settee, head propped on the armrest, clutching a bouquet of lavender and baby’s breath to her chest like she was attending her own wake. Ironic—considering she’d just witnessed a murder. Not a real one. No blood, no mess. Just the kind of death you can’t come back from, no matter how many titles one’s father paid for.
She stared at the ceiling as the events of the last hour replayed over and over in her mind’s eye—starting, as all great tragedies did, with a boy and a bouquet and two doting fathers.
A series of oneshots featuring Terence and Dion as the original lawnmower parents.
(Humorous, not crack) -
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Dion delivers a forbidden letter to his dear friend, Terence, under cover of darkness—an act of defiance that costs him dearly. But some bonds cannot be severed, even by those who would break a boy to forge a weapon.
Distraction. That’s what they called Terence now—like he was a weakness to be excised, like the empathy he was meant to shed. No friends, no lovers, only the cold light of Bahamut waiting to be unleashed on command. Kept in a gilded cage on a pedestal high above those he would protect, those he was meant to slaughter.
Inspired by the Logos passage read by Stewart Clarke.
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Knights-in-training, Terence and Dion, stumble across a waterfall on an otherwise miserable journey through the woods. And with a recently acknowledged awareness of each other, they do as any curious young men would do.
And other one shot stories.
Ch.2: medieval sex ed and first time
Ch.3: library distractionsFluff and smut, please read the tags, Dion has a vagina. Terms for genitalia are kept as vague as possible so can envision him as trans or however else you interpret it. Specifics are listed at the start of each chapter.
Series
- Part 1 of Take Me to Your Heart
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A series of Terence/Dion one-shots exploring aspects of their relationship focusing around hurt, comfort, loyalty, love — and most importantly, finding a home in each other.
- Words:
- 18,678
- Works:
- 2
- Bookmarks:
- 4
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‘Dion...’ My name is splendid on his lips, it is simply the name of a human being. And I devour his beautiful, sincere mouth, mad with gratitude, torn with lust and tenderness. At that moment, I would have light-heartedly given up Bahamut's roar, to be able to kiss him endlessly.
I feel tears pricking in my throat and at the corners of my eyes. Weak creature, foolish child without marrow.
Before Sylvestre Lesage's deadly litany reaches our paradise, Terence intercepts me, rescues me, hooks me in his ashen gaze and fills my face with kisses, as if he knows, always, when my monsters would call. -
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Written for Whumptober 2023 in collaboration with Maegaeth. Links to accompanying art in Notes.
There is no light save the scant torches that burn in the corridor beyond casting flickering shadows through the metal grating and bars. He’s heard of the Republic’s prisons. Labyrinthine tunnels that wove beneath Ran’dellah. Few who ever entered were seen from again.
Series
- Part 21 of Wyvern’s Tale: A Collection of Ballads, Verses, and Laments for Dion the Bold, the Mad Prince
Bookmarked by Imperialairways
06 Aug 2025