Chapter Text
Vil never thought much about the many times when makeup artists and fashion coordinators had 'dressed him up' for his acting roles or celebrity appearances.
It wasn't anything close to giving up control. It was merely allowing the people who knew best and were the most professional in their fields to make Vil presentable for a role, an interview or a live performance.
They knew what makeup matched best with the lighting…they knew what type of outfit would be needed for shooting a film verses a live broadcast…they knew what hairstyle would make his facial shape stand out or lessen depending on his role.
The many times when he sat in a chair sipping at a fresh smoothie as he scrolled magicam to check on the latest gossip while his hair was being curled were times he felt at ease…like mini breaks in the long work day.
Even better when his favorite stylists would be there to conversate with him.
It was apart of the job. Though Vil did like to do his own makeup for more personal interviews, he never declined advice and guidance from senior make-up artists. This actually allowed him to learn more about what products he could be using and what he shouldn't be in certain situations.
As much as he researched on his own…the advice and knowledge directly from those working in the field felt like a privilege to him.
Right now…felt nothing like that.
There were two unfathomably gorgeous people working on his hair right now, each taking a side to straighten out his long blonde hair to perfection. The both of them had talked about Vil as if he weren't even there…about how soft and gentle he looked…how they would hope Io would grow bored with him…because they surely wouldn't if given the chance. They would treat him like the pure little dove he was.
One unfathomably gorgeous person had just finished Vil's makeup, going on about how beautiful Vil's facial structure was…they kept touching his face…contouring it too softly so they'd purposely spend more time admiring his face…lingering the lipstick on his lips for way too long. They wished Vil could test all their products…they would try every piece of makeup on that perfect face. Skincare routines would be SO fun…
An unfathomably beautiful nail tech was happy to redo Vil's broken nails…claiming they would love nothing more than to play with Vil's hands and feet everyday if they could. They couldn't stop being mesmerized by his long fingers and perfect nail beds…how his feet were so delicate and cared for…they massaged his hands and feet…applying new nails and recoloring them to perfection. They showed some other colors and designs they plan for Vil later…they can't wait to tend to him, hand and foot, again.
The unfathomably beautiful one who put him in this white dress…open back and sleeveless with gold designs…admired Vil's body. They praised Vil for having such a delicate figure…a figure many have died trying to maintain. They explicitly admired his waist…ignoring the fading burn marks…they tightened the corset more even when Vil let out a gasp of pain…they promised he'd get used to it. He had to show off such delicacy. They want to put Vil in the finest of clothing to show off such a beautiful frame.
Vil smiled kindly thanking them for their praise…enjoying being desired so much…
They all adored him…they were obsessed with him…they saw him as the perfect canvas…to be painted in their visions of beauty…
This is what you wanted right?
To be the fairest of them all?
To be adored by everyone around you?
Those thoughts mocked him and threatened to break his composure.
To snap and tell these people to stop treating him like an object.
This isn't what he wanted…
THAT isn't who he is.
No. No, No, No…he retreated into his mind while he allowed these beautiful creatures to have at his soul.
Shape it into what Io desired.
It was easier than he thought…truly becoming a doll.
Easy…but horrifyingly so.
"Are you ready?" Elion's voice brings Vil back as he looks up to the blonde. He stands patiently looking down to Vil who was still sitting there in the hairdresser chair.
"I am…" Vil smiles softly when he notices the hairdressers are long gone. He stands up from the chair. "…I…are you going to guide me?"
"Of course!" Elion gently links his arm with Vil's and starts to lead him out of the huge dressing room and into the bright open hallway of the mansion.
The walk down this hall felt long and dreadful. The nausea turned to anxiety as he keeps up with Elion's pace. Elion doesn't seem to mind that Vil was totally spacing out as he rambled on about what they might have for lunch today.
Good. Vil needed to try to think about what the hell he was supposed to do next.
You know…if Io doesn't immediately realize he isn't under his control and promptly breaks his mind apart.
Even if Io doesn't notice…if Jamil is totally under his control how is he supposed to set him free? If Jamil becomes sound of mind, Io will just…dish the same punishment?
Throw him in the watery doom pit?
Or maybe Amir is full of shit, and Jamil will resist?
Come to clarity…but be able to hide it.
Use that cunning to manipulate everyone around him that he is lost to Io's will.
Jamil will see Vil and give him a knowing look…
…and they can figure this out together…they might get out of this together…
"My darling, Vil!" Io's voice chimes with a softness that sends a hard chill down Vil's spine.
Io is hurrying down the hall to meet him. Elion slips his arm from Vil's and steps aside before Io walks up to Vil, cupping his face and looking into his eyes.
It happens so fast that Vil's eyes widen in surprise. He quickly smiles with a soft laugh, making his surprise seem joyful.
"I am sorry it has been so long, my most beautiful doll." Io's voice is sincere as he kisses Vil's nose gently.
Time to play this up.
Vil lets out a relieved laugh as he wraps his arms around Io and hugs him. Putting his face in the crook of his neck. Squeezing him in a needy sense. Breathing into his neck as if it were fresh air. As if he longed for this moment his entire life.
Io is stiff for a few moments and Vil fears this might have been the wrong move…until Io hugs him back tightly for a few moments. Io then pulls back to place a kiss a top his forehead.
"You're…finally here to stay?" Io asks hopefully, he runs a thumb down the side of Vil's cheek.
"I want to be with you." Vil replies innocently, gently as his amethyst eyes soften. "It feels so right."
Vil's not supposed to recall the many times he resisted.
Being dragged kicking and screaming, spewing hate and vile at Io.
"You smell so good." Vil hums softly as he allows his body to relax against Io. "I love this smell…"
"You made it…it's yours." Io pulls Vil from his neck gently, to look to him. Io's eyes are soft…his smile genuine even on that usually stoic face. "You gave it to me."
"I gave it to you…" Vil repeats with a nod and a smile…trying to still feign haziness in his mind.
"You did. Don't worry…things will get more clear for you soon. I promise." Io takes Vil's hand and leads him further down the hall. Io leans in and whispers gently into Vil's ear. "My doll, I am sure Elion told you I have a gift for you."
Vil fights the urge to recoil before he leans into Io's lips on his ear.
"A gift?" Vil asks shyly.
"Yes. I hope…it will make you want to stay with me. To not think to leave me…" Io places a kiss on Vil's cheek before they stop in front of a bedroom door.
Io opens the door and motions for Vil to walk inside. Vil steps inside and takes in the room. It's beautiful…very spacey and decorated in whites with silver embellishments. The bed was massive and there was so much natural sunlight from the open windows. Rows of books, study space, lounge areas…and the carpet felt so soft beneath his bare feet.
It…felt too pure. Too clean…too much like the room of a maiden…a maiden to be kept hidden away as a prize…only for the winner to enjoy as they pleased.
"It's beautiful." Vil turns to Io with a breathless smile, feigning being so taken by the room.
"This room isn't the gift." Io states with a smirk before he claps his hands. One of the doors open in the room and a familiar figure steps out to greet him.
Vil's heart catches in his throat at the sight of Jamil.
It was Jamil...but not him...Io's image of him.
The first thing Vil notices is how Jamil holds his head so high.
Higher than he's ever seen but in such a eerily regal sense.
He then notices Jamil's black hair was pressed like silk as it curtains down his shoulders in the most perfect way he's ever seen outside of Fairest City or Magicam.
Jamil's snake like movements are more prominent as he walks towards Vil…and his heart aches when he notices it…
…as Jamil moves in a sway and his hair flows beautifully with that sway...he can see it…
Io's fingerprints burned into the side of his neck.
Vil wills down the lump in his throat.
Jamil's face is sharpened in the same way everyone else is…but he looks…refreshed. The bags under his eyes gone as any trace of fatigue has been erased from his being.
The same is noticeable about his posture. How his shoulders seem broader and less heavy than usual. The dress he wore was black…with gold embellishments…showcasing his wonderfully lithe body…contrasting Vil's lighter appearance.
Jamil now stands before Io and Vil.
"Jamil…" Vil whispers softly as he resists the urge to take hold of his lover's face, look into his eyes deeper to find something there…to make sure he was still there.
"How does he look in this light?" Io asks as he walks to Jamil's side and loosely puts his arms around his shoulders in a sideways hug. One hand taking Jamil's chin and tilting his head back, as if to put his face on display for Vil.
Jamil's expression had been blank and vacant but when he looks to Vil…his gray eyes showed a bit of recognition. He smiles fondly with such an innocence that Vil's never seen on his face before.
Vil had to hold himself back from ripping Jamil free from Io's grasp.
Instead, he plays the part.
"He's beautiful…so beautiful…" Vil smiles shyly to Jamil, still unsure if he were there or if he were truly under Io's influence.
Io leans down and whispers into Jamil's ear. "Go to your heart."
Without hesitation, Jamil swiftly moves forwards to Vil. Standing before the other with adoration and longing in his gray eyes. His hands gently taking Vil's waist.
Vil sucks in a breath at the touch, looking down to Jamil as he gently slides his hands to the side of his neck. Jamil's eyes close as he sucks in a gentle breath at the touch. His cheeks flush instantly…
…like how Vil's touch usually makes Jamil flush instantly.
He was still there.
Relief overwhelms Vil as he cups Jamil's face and takes him into a passionate kiss. Jamil kisses back instantly as he pulls Vil closer so they're body to body.
"I will…give you both some time…" Io says sweetly, mostly to himself as the lovers seem pretty distracted with themselves. He looks genuinely happy at their reaction to one another as he steps out of the room without another word.
The sound of the door locking could be heard behind him.
Vil pulls back from the kiss before he looks to the door and then to Jamil.
He's gone.
He left them alone, thank the fucking seven!
Vil hurriedly takes Jamil in a hug holds tight. His relief flowing out of him as he lets his composure fall. Tears threatening to fall as he says in an exhausted whisper. "Thank the seven you were able to resist. Now we need to figure out how to overpower him…I have so much to explain and it's all really convoluted bullshit…."
"Then don't explain." Jamil whispers softly into Vil's ear. "Let it go."
Vil heart falls hard into his stomach before he gasps in shock. He quickly tries to pull back from Jamil's embrace as if he has been stung by his very words.
Jamil smiles up to Vil softly as he holds him by the waist tighter, keeping him trapped in his arms.
His gray eyes were soft…no fight in them…
Just a pleasant acceptance.
"You don't have to fight anymore, Vil. You don't have to suffer. You don't have to pretend." Jamil's voice is so tender. So sincere. As if he means everything he's saying from the bottom of his heart. His face almost looks pleading when he says ever so softly.
"We can be free. Let's just stay here and be free...okay?"
