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1.
There was no doubt in the world that the Noblesse was extraordinary. Raizel was one of a kind, a strange figure who exuded pure aura, with scarlet eyes that always seemed to see straight through you. Urokai had admired him for as long as he had known him. Pretty, pristine Raizel, who looked out at the world with an enigmatic expression… who wouldn’t be drawn to him? Who wouldn’t want to help him?
Raizel was different, Urokai knew. He was strong, he carried a divine duty. He was respected and feared by everyone, the strange, slight Noble who could kill them all with a flick of a finger. He was power personified. Emotionless, cold and unfeeling, and Urokai couldn’t help but want to be the one to draw some warmth out of him. To make a tiny smile come to his lips.
So he stood there in his manor, trying his hardest to practice making tea even when Zarga said it tasted horrible, in the hopes that he could one day win the favor of the elusive Cadis Etrama di Raizel. Urokai wasn’t sure of everything, but some part of him knew— he wanted Raizel’s eyes on him and him alone. And why shouldn’t that be true?
2.
It was a sin to love Raizel, Loctis thought. The Kravei Leader was a married man with a wife and a daughter (a wife already passed into eternal sleep— a daughter who cared not for him—) and it simply wasn’t right to have affections for that solitary Noblesse. Yet it was inevitable. There was just something about him, something Loctis couldn’t put into words.
Cadis Etrama di Raizel never belonged among the Nobles, never would. He gazed out that window for decades upon centuries, and spoke few words if at all. It was next to impossible to garner his attention. But Loctis found that for some reason, he wanted it deeply. Wanted to make the young Noblesse turn to him, gaze upon him with those scarlet eyes so rarely seen.
Raizel was untouchable, holy, distant and cold, and Loctis contented himself to admire from afar like many did; Loctis was aware of Urokai’s particular situation, as were most Nobles. Loctis felt a sense of deep protectiveness towards the young man, an angel, the human’s heaven on Earth. Loctis guarded his affections for him quietly in his heart, unable to help it. If it was a sin to love Raizel, then he was a sinner; it was as simple as that.
3.
Gradeus liked Raizel, of course he did. Everyone did. Raizel was innocent and pure, guarded from the world like a dove in a cage. And Gradeus, the cat; he couldn’t help the desire to pounce. Ah, there was just something nice about Raizel— sure he was kind of weird and solitary, but he had that kind of aura to him, the metallic tang of blood power. Gradeus was drawn to it, was drawn to him. He was curious about just how strong Raizel was, exactly. And how could he have so much power, looking as fragile as he did?
And honestly… he was supposed to be looking for a wife to create successors, but… somehow, the whole thing made him uneasy. Which was strange; Gradeus believed in family first. But for some reason, he didn’t want to start his own. At least, not with a woman. Yet Raizel’s presence made him reconsider companionship; maybe it wasn’t so bad then.
Delicate, powerful Raizel, a pretty face, an absolute being. Raizel was feared and revered, and Gradeus understood; and he had a deep, hidden desire to make Raizel his, to win that flower for his own possession. Gradeus had always gotten what he wanted before, and after all, this seemed no different.
4.
Edian thought that her reactions, her feelings, were only natural. Raizel was beautiful, endlessly so. He was strange, and beautiful in his strangeness, in his otherworldliness. It was only natural that she admired him and had developed somewhat of a crush on him. Raizel was a distant, perfect figure, the epitome of beauty, a solitary ruler.
She didn’t know him at all, she reflected sometimes. But she loved him (or his image, or the idea of him, simply) all the same. He was icy and cold, never paid her particular mind, but he allowed her to do as she pleased. She stared at Raizel for hours on end, admiring his perfect form, enamored by it— by him. The Noblesse.
And if she felt that she would do almost anything for him, then it was only a natural continuation of her sentiments. Raizel was a statue carved out of glass, the all-powerful judge of souls, a being to be placed on a pedestal and adored from afar. If there was something deeper to that then, well, Edian didn’t know. After all, this was what love was, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?
5.
It took Frankenstein a very long time to realize he was in love with Raizel. The answer to everything was much more simple than he thought: he loved him. Cadis Etrama di Raizel, the Noblesse, a lonely, melancholy figure who stared at the world he wanted without exploring it for himself. Who put himself in chains, held himself back, ingrained the idea that his life meant nothing into his very heart.
Well, Frankenstein disagreed. Raizel’s life was worth it; why couldn't he see that? For that matter, why could no one else see it? The Leaders who came and went, the Lord sitting up high on his throne— none of them seemed to see the Noble desperate for companionship, locked up by his own accord. No one seemed to see Cadis Etrama di Raizel, considerate and too selfless, a good and caring soul, kindness personified.
Raizel, the man who had taken one look at him and decided to protect him; who knew nothing at all about Frankenstein other than that he was in pain, and unable to let a stranger suffer alone, had taken him in. Raizel who liked his tea sugary-sweet, who conversed with the birds and the deer and left them pieces of scone, who gazed lovingly at the flowers in the garden, who fussed over all of Frankenstein’s cuts and scrapes from working.
Frankenstein had no more doubts. And when the time came, he slipped a drop of his blood into Raizel’s tea. Bound for eternity.
+1
Raizel’s love for Frankenstein was a natural thing, a wondrous thing. Raizel lived alone, in the shadow, for centuries upon millena— and then one bright, shining human being broke into his manor and his life and lifted him out of that self-imposed darkness. Raizel who had never known companionship, now had a stranger seeking shelter, dependent on him until he recovered. Raizel did his best to treat him well, to look after him and keep him safe.
But then he recovered, and never left. Instead he started caring for Raizel, becoming his butler in truth rather than as just a cover. Frankenstein was extraordinary, in all aspects; he was filled to bursting with life and passion and virtue, the polar opposite of the relic of the past that was Raizel. And he chose to serve him, for some reason.
Frankenstein was the only one who saw Raizel as he was. Not as the Noblesse, not as an all-powerful judge— but just him, Cadis Etrama di Raizel, a lost and lonely person, longing quietly for the outside world. Within a few months he managed to do what the Leaders could not do in centuries. Raizel didn’t need much in his life, but Frankenstein’s tea was one of those things, and his company— something Raizel couldn’t do without.