Chapter 11: A New Loyalty
The neon light above the four-fold bed flickered once, twice, and then settled into a dull, steady hum. It cast the room in alternating shadows and pale blue light, illuminating the tangled sprawl of limbs and hair that covered the massive mattress.
Argent lay at the center of it all, propped against a mountain of pillows, surveying his domain.
Ruby had collapsed against his left side, her face pressed into his shoulder, a thin line of drool trailing from the corner of her mouth. Her silver hair fanned out across his chest like spilled moonlight. She was still wearing one of Yang's oversized shirts, rucked up around her waist, her legs intertwined with the blonde's.
Yang, for her part, had claimed the other side of the bed with territorial aggression. One arm was slung possessively across Argent's stomach, her fingers curled against his hip. Her lilac eyes were closed, a satisfied smile curving her lips even in sleep. The faint scratches on her back were already beginning to fade, a testament to her aura's natural healing.
Weiss lay curled at the foot of the bed, her platinum hair a mess against the pillow, one hand still loosely gripping Blake's ankle. The faunus girl had sprawled perpendicular across the mattress, her cat ears twitching occasionally. Even in sleep, they'd found a way to stay connected.
Pyrrha had claimed the edge of the bed, her red hair scattered across her face, her breathing slow and even. She'd been the last to fall, her stamina legendary even after hours of exertion, and Argent had watched her eyes finally flutter shut with no small satisfaction.
The room smelled like sex and sweat and the lingering sweetness of the cream puffs Ruby had insisted they eat between rounds. Empty water bottles littered the floor. A discarded lace bra hung from the desk lamp. The sheets were ruined.
Argent stirred, carefully extracting himself from the tangle of limbs. Ruby murmured something incoherent, reaching for him even in sleep, but she settled when he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
He padded across the room naked, unselfconscious, and pulled on a pair of loose sweats. His muscles ached pleasantly. The new scent of Blake's shadow semblance hummed in his bones, waiting to be tested, while Pyrrha's polarity thrummed beneath his skin like a second heartbeat.
It was mid-evening. The sun had set hours ago, painting the dorm room in deep shadows broken by the neon's pulse. Beyond the window, the lights of Vale glittered against the dark, a thousand lives unfolding without any awareness of the quiet empire being built in their midst.
Argent pulled on a t-shirt and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door softly behind him.
The corridor was quiet. A few students milled about at the far end, but the dormitory wing was mostly still. Most students were either in the cafeteria or their rooms, and the weekend had emptied the halls of the usual chaos.
He made his way toward Team Juniper's dorm, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished floor.
The door was slightly ajar, a warm wedge of light spilling into the hallway. He pushed it open without knocking.
Nora Valkyrie was perched on Pyrrha's bed, humming to herself as she flipped through a magazine. She looked up when he entered, her smile bright and utterly unguarded.
"Hey, Argent! What's up?" She tilted her head, her red hair bouncing. "Is Pyrrha still with you guys? She said she was going to come back for something."
"She's fine," Argent said, leaning against the doorframe. "Actually, that's why I'm here. She's going to be staying with Team RWBY's dorm for a while. We're rearranging some things."
Nora blinked, then shrugged. "Cool, cool. You know, bonding exercises and whatever. Makes sense." She tossed the magazine aside. "You need help moving her stuff?"
"That would be great." Argent stepped into the room, scanning the space. Ren was sitting cross-legged on his own bed, looking up from a book with barely concealed indifference. Jaune was sprawled on the floor, fiddling with his scroll.
"Hey, man," Jaune said, not looking up. "Pyrrha's moving out? That's a vibe shift."
"We're just adjusting some arrangements," Argent said smoothly. "She's still on your team for everything that matters."
Jaune grunted, apparently satisfied with that explanation. Ren returned to his book without comment.
Nora bounced to her feet, already grabbing the end of Pyrrha's mattress. "Okay, girl power, let's do this. Wait—" She stopped, her brow furrowing. "How are we going to get this thing down the hall? It's a queen size."
"Yours and mine," Argent said, moving to take the other end of the frame. He lifted the entire bed with a grunt of effort. His aura surged, augmented by the accumulated power of three different combat semblances. The bedframe barely seemed heavy. "I've got it. You grab the sheets and stuff."
"Niiice," Nora breathed, watching him carry the frame with obvious admiration. "You're like a walking forklift. That's hot."
"Thanks." Argent maneuvered the bed out of the room, backing into the hallway. Ren didn't even look up as he passed.
Nora scampered alongside him, her arms full of pillows and folded blankets. "So what's the plan? You and Pyrrha are getting serious, huh? That's awesome. She really needs someone who can keep up with her, you know? She's all 'Mistral's champion' and 'undefeated in the arena' but she's also like, really sweet and sensitive—"
"Nora," Argent interrupted, his voice gentle. "I appreciate the enthusiasm. We're just getting to know each other better."
"Sure, sure," Nora said, clearly not buying it but too cheerful to press. "You know, I thought she might be into you. She's been looking at you during combat class, like, way more than normal."
They rounded the corner into Team RWBY's dorm wing. The neon light ahead flickered, casting the corridor in waves of pale blue.
"Nora," Argent said, pausing at the door. "I should warn you. The girls are... sleeping."
"At this hour? They must've had a rough day." Nora grinned, shifting the bundle in her arms. "Don't worry, I'll be quiet. Just gonna drop this stuff off and—"
He pushed the door open.
Nora stepped through and froze.
The four-fold bed dominated the room, its massive frame filling the space that had once held individual bunks. On it, tangled in a heap of limbs and rumpled sheets, were the naked forms of Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna, Yang Xiao Long, Ruby Rose... and Pyrrha Nikos.
They were scattered across the mattress like offerings, their bodies on display. Weiss's leg was draped over Blake's thigh. Yang's arm was anchored around Ruby's waist, her hand cupping the younger girl's bare breast. Pyrrha lay on her stomach, her red hair fanned across the pillow, the curve of her exposed back rising and falling with deep sleep.
The air was thick with the unmistakable scent of sex.
Nora's arms went slack. The pillows and blankets tumbled to the floor with a soft thud.
The pillows and blankets tumbled to the floor with a soft thud.
Nora's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Her eyes tracked across the scene in frantic, disbelieving sweeps—Weiss's leg draped over Blake's thigh, Yang's hand cupping Ruby's bare breast, Pyrrha's naked back rising and falling with deep, peaceful breaths.
"What—" She choked on the word, her voice cracking. "What the hell, Argent? What the hell is this?"
Argent stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her with an expression that was almost casual. Almost indifferent. "They're resting."
"Resting?" Nora's voice climbed an octave. "They're naked! All of them! And Pyrrha—" She pointed at her partner, her hand shaking. "Pyrrha's on that bed without any clothes on, and you're standing there like it's completely normal!"
"It is normal," Argent said. "For us."
Nora's face went through a rapid series of emotions—confusion, horror, dawning rage. She took a half-step forward, then stopped, her fists clenching at her sides. "You're telling me you had sex with all of them? At the same time? That's—" She gagged on the words, spat them out. "That's wrong! It's sick!"
"Which part?" Argent tilted his head, genuinely curious. "The sex? The group dynamic? Or the fact that you're bothered by it?"
"All of it!" Nora's voice broke into a screech, and she spun toward the door, toward the hallway. "HELP! SOMEONE—"
Argent didn't move.
But something rippled outward from him, invisible and absolute. A silent flare of his semblance, expanding beyond the doorway, spreading down the corridor like a tide. It seeped into the walls, the floors, the ceiling. It wrapped around every student, every professor, every person within earshot.
Nora's scream died in her throat.
Not because she couldn't make noise—she could. It was the fact that no one was coming. The hallway beyond the door remained silent. No footsteps. No concerned voices. No sudden rush of attention. The entire floor had just... stopped caring.
She tried again, her voice raw with desperation. "SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE! THERE'S A—"
Still nothing.
The distant hum of the dorm's ventilation continued. Somewhere down the hall, a door closed. Someone laughed. No one came.
Nora turned back to Argent, her face pale. "What did you do?"
"Insurance," Argent said. "You can scream all you want, Nora. Nobody's going to hear you. Nobody's going to care. And nobody's going to question why you're suddenly screaming for help at..." he glanced at his scroll, "nine in the evening."
Nora's breath came in ragged gasps. She looked at the bed again, at the sleeping bodies of her friends, her teammate, and something in her chest cracked. "They're not sleeping, are they? You did something to them. You're controlling them."
"You're half right," Argent said. "They're sleeping because I want them to. They'll wake up when I decide it's time." He paused, letting the weight of that settle. "And yes, they're all mine. Body, mind, and soul."
"You're a monster," Nora spat.
Argent smiled. "No, I'm not. I'm something much better."
He stepped forward, and Nora instinctively backed away, her heels hitting Pyrrha's discarded armor. She stumbled, caught herself on the edge of the desk.
"You see, Nora," Argent said, his voice dropping into something lower, richer, "I'm not just a Huntsman. I wasn't just some student who showed up at Beacon with a chip on his shoulder and a semblance to hide." He stopped a few feet from her, close enough that she could smell the lingering scent of sex on his skin. "I have a purpose. A divine one."
Nora's eyes narrowed, her panic flickering into something like disbelief. "What are you talking about?"
"My father," Argent said, "is the God of Incest. The ancient one, the forgotten one, the one who was written out of the history books by the self-righteous Brothers who decided that love between family was an abomination instead of a sacred bond."
Nora stared at him, her mouth hanging open. "You're insane."
"Am I?" Argent raised his hand. A black, smoky shadow detached from his palm, forming a perfect duplicate of his hand in the air. It flexed, curled, then dissolved. "That's Blake's semblance. I took it from her. I've taken powers from every woman in this room. From every woman I've ever been with." He let that sink in. "I can do that because I'm not human, Nora. I'm a demigod. I'm the chosen champion of a divine purpose that you can't even begin to comprehend."
Nora shook her head violently, her red hair whipping around her face. "That's not—you're not—this is insane! You're just a guy! You're an eighteen-year-old student who's good at fighting!"
"Yes, on the surface. But underneath?" Argent gestured around the room, at the sleeping women, at the power thrumming in the air. "Why else do you think they all surrendered so easily? Why else do you think they're all so devoted? Because I'm just charming?"
Nora opened her mouth to argue—
And stopped.
A thought flickered through her mind. A strange, intrusive thought that felt not entirely her own. A question. What if he's telling the truth?
She shook it off. "No. No, you're just—you're using some kind of trick. A semblance that makes people believe things. That's it, isn't it? You've brainwashed them all."
"Brainwashing is such a crude word," Argent said. "I prefer enlightenment."
He took another step closer. Nora pressed herself against the desk, but there was nowhere left to run.
"You know what's really interesting about you, Nora?" Argent said. "You've always believed in things. Not gods, not religion—but you believe in Ren. You believe in Jaune. You believe in team dynamics, in loyalty, in the power of friendship." He smiled. "You're not an atheist. You're just a believer who hasn't found the right idol yet."
"I'm not worshiping you," Nora snapped.
"Not yet," Argent agreed. "But you will."
He reached out, and Nora flinched—
But he didn't touch her. Instead, he let his semblance flare again, this time not to silence screams, but to touch the sleeping minds of the women on the bed. Weiss stirred, murmured something, then stilled. Blake's ears twitched. Ruby sighed.
"They'll sleep through this," Argent said. "I've made sure of it. We have time."
"Time for what?"
"Time for me to show you the truth." Argent's eyes glittered. "My father, the God of Incest, saw humanity tearing itself apart. Saw the Grimm breeding in the dark spaces between our loves and loyalties. Saw how our refusal to embrace the taboos of our own blood created the very fractures that let the creatures of Grimm flourish." He paused. "He chose me to fix that. To spread his ideals. To use my divine power to eventually save humanity from the Grimm—and to rule my corner of the world as my reward."
Nora's breath was shallow, her pulse hammering in her throat. "That's—that's not how the world works. The Brothers established the rules. The gods of light and dark, creation and destruction. There's no God of Incest. It doesn't exist."
"Everything exists in some form," Argent said. "Every belief. Every taboo. Every shadow that the Brothers cast away from themselves." He leaned in, his voice a low murmur. "And every woman I've taken has felt my father's touch. Your friend Pyrrha is a perfect example. She's not suffering, Nora. Look at her. She's at peace. She's finally found something that makes all the frantic, exhausting struggle of being 'perfect' just... melt away."
Nora's eyes darted to Pyrrha's sleeping form. The champion of Mistral, the untouchable hero, looked vulnerable, open, utterly unguarded. A faint smile graced her lips.
"She looks happy," Nora whispered, hating the words as they left her mouth.
"Because she is," Argent said. "And you could be too."
He stepped back, giving her space, letting the seed settle.
"I'm not going to force you, Nora. Not tonight. I want you to think about what I've said. About what you've seen. About the possibility that everything you've been taught about the gods is incomplete." He gestured at the door. "You can leave. Go back to your room. Ren and Jaune are still there, blissfully unaware of anything wrong. You can go to the authorities, try to report me—but we both know how that'll end. No one will believe you. No one even heard you scream."
Nora stared at him, her mind racing.
"Or," Argent continued, "you can stay. You can wait. You can learn the truth about my father, and about the purpose that awaits you if you choose to embrace it."
"Nora looked at the bed again. At Pyrrha, Weiss, Blake, Yang, Ruby—all of them peaceful, content, utterly lost.
"I hate you," she said, but her voice was trembling. Hating him didn't feel as solid as it had a minute ago. The idea was already worming into her brain, taking root in the fertile soil of her uncertainty, her exhaustion, her desperate need to belong to something greater.
"The feeling is temporary," Argent said. "Trust me. All my girls felt it. Now look at them."
Nora didn't have a response. Her mouth opened and closed, fish-like, groping for words, finding nothing. Her entire worldview was cracking, splintering, and she didn't know how to hold it together.
"Take the night," Argent said. "Think. Dream. Let my father speak to you in your sleep if you allow it. Then we'll talk again."
He turned away, dismissing her, moving to the bed and settling himself among the sleeping women. He pulled Ruby's head onto his lap, stroking her black hair.
Nora stood frozen, rooted to the spot.
The exit was right behind her. The door was open. She could run.
But her legs wouldn't move.
She watched Argent's hand stroke Ruby's hair, watched the sleeping girl smile him, watched the whole sick tableau of submission and serenity laid out on the bed like a painting of the peace he promised.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, a quiet voice whispered, perhaps he's right.
---
And somewhere in the back of her mind, a quiet voice whispered, perhaps he's right.
Nora shook her head, hard enough to make her vision blur. "No. No, this is—you're messing with my head. You're using some kind of semblance, some kind of—"
"Am I?" Argent didn't move from his position on the bed, Ruby's head still cradled in his lap. His voice was calm, almost bored. "Then why haven't I used it on you yet?"
The question hit her like a physical blow.
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again.
"I... you..." The words wouldn't come. She wanted to say that he'd been manipulating her since she walked in, that the whole conversation was some kind of twisted mind game, but the logic wouldn't hold. He hadn't touched her. Hadn't activated anything. Hadn't even raised his voice.
He'd just talked.
And that was the terrifying part. Because everything he'd said made a horrible, twisted kind of sense.
Nora's eyes drifted back to the bed. To Pyrrha. Her partner, her friend, the woman who'd stood beside her through countless battles and never once shown weakness. Now she lay naked and vulnerable, her face peaceful in sleep, her lips curved in a smile that spoke of deep contentment.
She looks happy.
The thought echoed through Nora's mind, and somewhere in the dark spaces of her consciousness, something shifted.
It started as a warmth in her chest. Small at first, like the glow of a candle in a vast, cold room. Then it spread, branching outward through her veins, through her thoughts, weaving itself into the fabric of her beliefs like roots finding purchase in fertile soil.
She gasped. Her hands flew to her chest, pressing against her sternum as if she could physically contain the feeling blooming inside her. It wasn't pain. It wasn't pleasure. It was something else entirely—a sudden, absolute certainty that cut through every doubt, every hesitation, every carefully constructed wall she'd built around her identity.
The God of Incest.
The words echoed in her skull, not as a foreign concept but as a revelation, a truth that had always been there, waiting for her to see it. The Brothers had hidden it, buried it deep beneath layers of doctrine and self-righteousness, but now—
Now she understood.
She understood the sacredness of forbidden love. The divine purpose behind taboos. The way that embracing one's blood made one stronger, more connected, more whole. And at the center of it all stood Argent, the chosen champion, the son of the forgotten god, the harbinger of a new era.
Nora's knees buckled.
She hit the floor hard, the impact jarring through her legs, but she barely felt it. Tears were streaming down her face, hot and relentless, her breath coming in ragged sobs. The truth was overwhelming, the weight of it crushing and liberating all at once.
"I'm sorry," she choked out, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I didn't—I couldn't see—"
Argent rose from the bed, crossing to her with unhurried steps. He crouched in front of her, his eyes meeting hers with a warmth that made her heart ache.
"There's nothing to apologize for, Nora. You couldn't see because you weren't ready to see. But now..." He reached out, cupping her tear-streaked cheek. "Now you're ready, aren't you?"
"Yes," she breathed, the word coming without hesitation. "Yes, Master. I believe. I believe in you. In your father. In the purpose. I—" She broke off, another sob wracking her frame. "I've been so blind."
"You've been so lost," Argent corrected gently. "But you're found now. You're home."
Nora pressed her cheek into his palm, her eyes closing. The tears kept coming, but they were different now—not tears of grief or confusion, but of relief. Of finally, blessedly belonging to something greater than herself.
"Please," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Forgive me. For doubting you. For disrespecting you. I didn't know. I couldn't have known. But I know now, and I'll do anything. Anything, Master."
Argent's smile was slow and approving. "That's what I wanted to hear."
He withdrew his hand, and Nora immediately felt the loss of contact like a physical ache. She opened her eyes, desperate to prove herself, to earn back the favor she'd squandered with her foolish resistance.
"I'd be happy to forgive you, Nora. But forgiveness comes with conditions."
"Anything," she repeated, her voice firm despite the tremble in her limbs. "Name them. Whatever you need. Whatever you want. It's yours."
Argent straightened, looking down at her with an expression that mixed authority and affection. "First," he said, "I require your consent to transform your brain chemistry. I prefer all the women in my harem to be capable of enjoying each other fully. You'll need to be bisexual, Nora—able to bond sapphicly with Pyrrha and the others. I want to see you explore that connection, to truly appreciate the women around you as more than just teammates."
Nora's cheeks flushed crimson. The thought of being with Pyrrha—of kissing her, touching her, pleasing her—sent a jolt of heat straight to her core. She'd never considered women that way, not really, but now the idea was taking hold, and she found herself wanting it with an intensity that surprised her.
"Yes," she said, the word rushing out. "Yes, I consent. I want that. I want—"
"Good." Argent's voice was warm approval. "And the second condition: you'll let me fuck you. Let me come inside you, so I can copy your semblance and add your power to my own."
Nora's breath caught. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
She was already wet. The heat spreading through her had pooled low in her belly, an ache that demanded satisfaction. She could see the naked women on the bed—Pyrrha's curves, Weiss's pale thighs, Yang's full breasts—and her new, blooming bisexuality made her want to crawl across the mattress and taste every single one of them.
But Argent was offering something more. Something deeper.
"Yes," she moaned, the word practically a prayer. "Yes, please. Fuck me. Take me. Use me. I'm yours, Master. I'm yours."
Argent extended his hand to her. She took it without hesitation, letting him pull her to her feet.
Her hands went to her own clothes, tearing at them with frantic urgency. The tank top went over her head, and the shorts followed. Her breasts bounced free, her nipples already hard and aching. She kicked off her boots, then her panties, standing before him completely naked.
She was beautiful. Compact and muscular, with curves that promised violence and pleasure in equal measure. Her auburn hair fell in disheveled waves around her shoulders, her green eyes blazing with devotion.
Argent gestured to the bed they'd brought from her room. The mattress sat against the far wall, still bare of sheets, the frame gleaming in the neon light.
"On your hands and knees," he said.
Nora moved without hesitation, crossing the room with purposeful strides. She climbed onto the bare mattress, positioning herself on all fours, presenting herself to him. Her tailbone lifted, her hips tilting in silent invitation.
She looked back over her shoulder at him, her eyes wet with tears and lust and absolute submission.
"Please, Master," she breathed. "Make me yours."