Chaos High

(Liberties have been taken with canon. Why? Because it’s Chaos, and I ain’t gotta explain shit)

 

Pain shot up the Prince of Change’s spine as he collided with the cafeteria wall. Moments later, another jolt of agony stole his breath away as a fist slammed into his diaphragm.

 

“NOT SO FUNNY NOW, ARE YOU BIRD BRAIN?”

 

Tzeentch grimaced as he forced himself to look into the eyes of his attacker. Standing a full foot above him, the Prince of Blood was an imposing figure indeed. Khorne’s overly muscular frame lent itself well to his role as the school’s football captain, not to mention his legendary jock rage. In any case, Tzeentch was little more than a twig in comparison, and there was little he could do to stop the rain of blows against his body.

 

“HAHAHA! LOOK AT HIM SQUIRM! HOW PATHETIC! MAYBE NOW HE’LL THINK TWICE BEFORE MAKING JOKES AROUND ME!” came Khorne’s bellowing shout as he spat into Tzeentch’s face. Turning to his friends, the jock laughed and left the bloody and battered form of his prey behind, slumped against the wall.

 

None came to Tzeentch’s aid, knowing better than to tempt the wrath of their beloved football captain. Thus, the Prince of Change was left to slowly drag himself to the Nurse’s Office, practically leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Each step sent a blinding burst of light across the daemon’s vision, becoming more and more amplified and pronounced as he trudged onwards. Resolute as he was, his injuries finally overcame him corridors away from his goal. As he fell to the ground, body twitching all the while, Tzeentch could have sworn he saw a familiar figure rushing to his aid...

 

“Is he going to be alright? Please tell me he’s going to be okay!”

 

“Well his injuries were pretty grizzly, but it’s nothing a week’s bed rest won’t cure. See that he takes these pills whenever he wakes up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a choir boy who is in dire need of my tender, loving care…”

 

A series of footfalls and the sound of a door being closed met Tzeentch’s ear as he slowly regained consciousness. He was lying on something soft, his head propped ever so slightly up by what he guessed was a pillow. Someone must of have brought him the rest of the way to the Nurse’s office, but who? Much to his surprise, it did not take long for his curiosity to be sated.

 

“...She’s an Eldar after my own heart. But really, does she need to do that *here* of all places?”

A feminine sigh proceeded this remark, and it was enough that Tzeentch was able to discern its owner: the Princess of Pleasure, the cheerleader squad captain, and arguably both the hottest and most popular girl in the entire school. Needless to say, she was many social rings above the Prince of Change, and had never so much as shown signs of noticing his existence. So why was she here?

 

Further adding to Tzeentch’s confusion, he felt a weight at the edge of his bed near his lower torso. “Why is he allowed to get away with this? And to think, I nearly dated the bastard…” whispered Slaanesh, another dejected and worried sigh punctuating her remark. Feeling that it would be best to reveal the fact he was awake, Tzeentch slowly opened his eyes and gave a light cough.

 

The Princess of Pleasure jumped at the sudden noise, nearly falling from her spot on the bed. She quickly regained her composure, however, and turned to stare into Tzeentch’s eyes with a look of concern. “Good, you’re back with us. I’m glad,” Slaanesh offered, placing a warm hand on top of the sheets that covered Tzeentch’s bandaged chest. “How are you feeling?”

 

Before Tzeentch could reply, a coughing fit overcame him, resulting in no small amount of blood to emerge from his mouth. “I-I’ve been better,” he finally gasped, moving to wipe his face clean. Yet again, he would be surprised - this time by Slaanesh quickly producing a bit a of frilly cloth and

dabbing at his face.

 

“You shouldn’t strain yourself, just relax…” she cooed, frowning somewhat as she went about her work.

 

“But...why?” Tzeentch began, moving to push her hand away. “Why are you doing this? Did *he* put you up to this? Or perhaps this is another one of Nurgle’s practical jokes?”

 

Slaanesh shrank back a little, withdrawing her hand from cleaning his face. “I… No! I just found you collapsed in the hallway and thought…”

 

“Thought what?!” shouted Tzeentch, feeling all the more angry upon hearing this. He was no stranger to being bullied, especially by those daemonettes who so enjoyed teasing him so. “Thought you’d kick me while I was down? Maybe build me up only to smash me down again? That’s all you popular girls do, isn’t it?”

 

His own tears were soon matched by Slaanesh’s own, as she tried to offer a response. “That isn’t, I wouldn’t…” she began, trying to find the right words. “L-Look...I know you’ve had it rough here, and that you haven’t exactly had a single friend to rely on. So I thought…”  She trailed off, looking dejectedly down at the floor. Rather than immediately berate and chastise her, Tzeentch paused, utterly baffled. The legendary Princess of Pleasure wanted to be *his* friend? This had to be a ploy. It had to be. Right?

 

“...You flatter me…” Tzeentch grunted, shifting somewhat so as to judge the condition of his body. From the feel of it, most of his muscles were bruised and bandaged, and at least one of his ribs felt like it was cracked. Needless to say, he certainly wasn’t going anywhere fast. “But why...why me?”

 

A pause. “Because you’re different. You’re not like the other daemons and xenos here. I feel like there’s a warm kindness within you. A crying child just wishing he had a shoulder to cry on and someone to hug. That is sort of my domain, after all…”

 

There was some truth to her words, but Tzeentch could never admit it out loud, much less to himself. “...Well...T-thanks. B-but you don’t have to...A daemoness like you doesn’t deserve a daemon like me, so…”

 

His response was cut short by a pair of lips being pressed against his own. As Slaanesh pulled her head back, Tzeentch’s eyes darted across her face, at this point almost positive he was dreaming. “There, believe me now?” the Princess of Pleasure murmured, blushing as she looked away.

 

“I…”

 

Slaanesh stood quickly, then turned back to look down at Tzeentch with motherly eyes. “I know, I know. I’ll let you rest for now. If you need me, just call, okay? Otherwise, I’ll be back later to take you home.” Before Tzeentch could reply, the stunning daemoness left him to stew in his swirling thoughts. This had to be a dream. It had to be. Or maybe Khorne had done more damage to his cranium than he thought? There was no way this was real...right?