Defining Engel

It was a solemn hour inside the psychiatric ward - the exact moment MoonView Hospital came into possession of a living secret: humanity's greatest threat.

Prosper held his breath. His heart nearly stopped as he watched through the one-way mirror. Down in the cryogenic vault, a pale, translucent coffin descended into a sea of liquid nitrogen. Frozen in time. Locked in stasis to God knows what end, with him lying inside.

Prosper's chest tightened, a suffocating knot of conflicting resentment and grief. Leaning forward, the elf rested his forehead against the bitterly chilled pane. Strands of black hair fell past his pale face, veiling his expression as his skin cooled immediately against the glass. He closed his eyes, desperately trying to process what he had just witnessed. The scene was burned into his mind, seared into a consciousness already frayed at the edges.

It was for the best.

He repeated the phrase like a mantra, over and over, until it almost sounded maddening.

Prosper released a long, shuddering sigh. The heavy weight in his chest was festering, plaguing his every thought. It made him wonder how long he had left until he succumbed to the inviting madness of his own grief. He wished he had never watched that coffin sink into the deep freeze, but he knew better. It had to be done.

To Prosper, Engel was his home, his family, his love - his absolute everything. But to the rest of the world, Engel was the devil incarnate. A villain. The dreaded Emperor of the underworld - a criminal mastermind bent on overthrowing mankind and subjecting them to his iron rule.

The elf remembered the countless times Engel had ranted at the dinner table, or murmured just before falling asleep, about the hypocrisy of coexisting with humanity. He had always emphasized the double standards between species. At the time, Prosper had brushed it off as mere cynicism - an opinion he didn't have to share. The vampire was entitled to his convictions, even if Prosper strongly disagreed.

Never in his worst nightmares could Prosper have imagined that he was sharing a bed with the Emperor himself. They had built a life together. Engel was suppsoed to be his eternal partner, not his sworn enemy. For heaven's sake, the man used to read bedtime stories to their daughter and braid her hair before school. He kept fresh flowers in the house. He loved floristry.

None of this made sense, yet deep down, Prosper knew reality was catching up to him.

His thoughts drifted back, spiraling into the dark memory of his husband's arrest...

The warehouse - Three days ago.

Prosper clutched his semi-automatic pistol, his knuckles turning white. Adjacent to his position, the FBI SWAT team stood on standby, waiting for his signal. Blending into the shadows along the perimeter of the abandoned warehouse, the elf agent moved like a ghost, his footsteps utterly soundless.

According to the briefing, the underworld Emperor was suspected to be a vampire or a half-elf, while his underboss, who ran the west side, was a half-orc.

Keeping his breathing slow and measured, Prosper rounded the back of the building and slipped inside. There were no doors, no high-tech security - only thick cobwebs and towering stacks of rotting wooden crates.

Crouching low, he skirted the loose brickwork scattered across the decaying floorboards. Distant, muffled voices began to filter through the gloom. The further he crept, the clearer they became. One voice was low and guttural; the other was higher, silk-like and devious.

Propser paused, peering through a gap between two crates. In the dim flicker of an oil lantern, he spotted a hulking, seven-foot silhouette with small protruding tusks. The half-orc.

From this angle, however, he couldn't get a clear line of sight on the Emperor. Drawing a second pistol from his shoulder holster, Prosper inhaled sharply, then stepped out of the shadows and fired two tranquilizer-laced rounds into the back of the half-orc's knees - muted by a silencer.

The underboss roared, collapsing onto the floor with a heavy crashing thud. He writhed and swore profusely, but the potent sedative - formulated to drop an elephant - worked rapidly in real time. Within seconds, his thrashing ceased, and he sank into unconsciousness.

Propelled by momentum, the elf swept towards his second target, raising his pistol directly between a pair of glowing crimson eyes.

Then his blood ran cold. Prosper's hands faltered, and he lowered his weapon.

Those eyes. The pale, elegant features framing them.

"Engel?" Prosper's voice cracked in urgent disbelief. Tension coiled tight in his shoulders, adrenaline surging through his fae veins. "What are you doing here?"

Had Engel been kidnapped? Blackmailed? No - they were talking - as if they were civilized. As if this was normal.

And he heard it.

Prosper took a step towards him, but Engel averted his gaze, refusing to make eye contact. He remained deathly silent.

Holstering one of his weapons. Prosper reached out, his hand trembling as he cupped Engel's chin, gently trying to pull his husband's gaze back. Engel snapped his head away, striking Prosper's hand aside. Yet in the flickering shadows, a faint sombre light glinted in those vivid crimson irises.

Engel offered a small, half-hearted smile. "I know you're angry with me, " he murmured, neatly sidestepping his husband's questions. He glanced subtly over his shoulder towards the massive, bolted wooden doors behind him as if aware of the forces waiting just outside.

Slowly, Engel raised his hands in surrender.

Prosper's face contorted into a stern, heartbroken scowl.

"Before you turn me in," Engel said softly, "I have only one request. Please...take care of our daughter. Amy. She doesn't know the world like we do. Just, please protect her."

Hearing her name spoken aloud in the dimly lit gloom shattered whatever lingering denial Prosper had left. It was true. The man he loved was the monster the world feared.

Prosper ground his teeth and spat in disgust. "Keep her name out of your mouth," he hissed, his face twisted in revulsion. "You lost the right to speak her name the moment you finally revealed yourself - for who you really are."

Refusing to waste another second, Prosper raised the comms unit on his shoulders to bring it in. But before he could utter a word, Engel lunged forward, grabbing the elf by the collar and dragging him into a desperate, frenzied kiss.

He bit down on Prosper's lower lip, pulling hard enough to break the skin. As a drop of blood welled up, the vampire licked it away, savouring the sweet, intoxicating taste of the elven and the fae. He leaned into the dark euphoria it brought him, enticed by the thrill of flirting on the edge of ruin - especially as he felt the cold steel of Prosper's gun pressed firmly against his stomach.

Engel smirked against his lips, brushing a thumb along the elf's jawline.

Prosper let out a low snarl. Reaching up, he seized a fistful of the vampire's raven hair and pulled him back in, deepening the kiss into something raw and feral. It was animalistic, a frantic collision of two people unraveling at the seams, knowing they had nothing left to lose except their sanity.

Finally, Prosper forced himself to break contact and pull back, staring directly into the bloody ocean of Engel's eyes. He knew, with devastating certainty, that this was the last time he would ever look into his husband's soul again.

Stepping back further, the elf relinquished his hold and spoke coldly into his radio. "The Emperor is secured. Do not open fire. Bring him in alive. Over."

The heavy wooden doors burst open with a deafening crash. Tactical lights cut through the gloom as the SWAT unit poured into the warehouse, weapons drawn.

"ON THE GROUND! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! DON'T MOVE!"

Engel complied smoothly, dropping to his knees and lacing his fingers behind his head as a dozen laser lights painted his chest. Prosper stood frozen, watching the man he loved get pinned down to the ground.

There was no going back.

It was over.

In the quiet chill of the psychiatric ward, the memory slowly faded. The elf tightened his hand into a fist and struck the one-way glass with a sudden, agonizing force. A faint, hairline crack branched across the surface.

He lifted his head, meeting his own reflection. Primal golden irises burned with a dark, seething anger.

Was it really over?

Snow pours endlessly from the night sky. Frolicing daintily in the subtle wind in their descent. Engel stood there at the front with his frame silhouetted against the dim glow of the hallway lights behind him. In his hands were two mugs of hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows.

“You two! Your drinks are going to get cold!” He shouted over from the front porch.

“Hold on! We are almost finished.” Prosperous shouted back as little five-year-old Amy finally gave the snowman pebbles for eyes and a mouth, before adding the finishing touch - a carrot for a nose. Engel rolled his eyes and smiled at the sight of them. Amy was wrapped up from head to toe in warm, pink overalls. Red mittens covered her small hands. And a white beanie on her head. Her face was flushed with a rose tint, whereas Engel and Prosper could barely feel it.

Prosper pulled out his phone with Amy standing next to it, smiling, showcasing her baby fangs, next to her first snowman. He turned the phone