Arthdal (Tanya and Yangcha)

Prologue

A/N: I'm pretty rusty, but I am missing some Yangcha and Tanya. It's been a year since I wrote, so be nice lol. We all know in real life they'd never happen, however, this is a world of fiction. There is going to be no over-the-top themes in this one. I wonder how believable this could be. But the way these two are on screen is mesmerizing. I already know she will end with Eunseom, so this is like an alternate storyline. Alas, how it started. (I created that image with Daz studio making my Yangcha younger)

--------Warning, kind of a gruesome start------------

Tagon's smaller frame heaved as he dropped the rock on the ground.

He'd backed away from the body that lie dead before him uncertain of what to do next. It was up to him to do this now, or his father would slaughter an entire family to hide his sin...-his half-blood son. Tagon had learned early on in life that he was not loved by his father as a normal son should be. No, if anything he was a constant eyesore for what he represented.

Blood dripped from the deadly wound on the small body, and some also dripped from his hands as they shook. The killing was not a fulfilling feeling, nor was it as hard as he thought it'd be. More than anything, he felt regret. Someone's child had come out to play, and in a few hours, a mother and father would work themselves raw trying to find him. 

It was that sadness, that last time you saw someone, that he'd never felt from anyone before. Still, he didn't take pleasure in the action. With his mind settled in the silence of the forest, Tagon staged a scene that made it look like the small boy had fallen on a rock and died.

It was hard to feel things as normal humans did. Even he knew his emotions were off to some degree. They didn't hide what they were, they laughed and played while he hid and sulked. The small child was not much older than himself but had probably felt more love in his short life than Tagon knew he'd get in his entire life. This was his curse. Any time he got close to someone, they ended up dead because of him. All somehow learned what he truly was, and none ever cared who he'd been for they'd know. Everyone only saw the monster he was.

He was of a rare kind, one that was not liked in this world. 

Igutu.

Igutu often suffered health problems due to the waring of genes between the two species of humans and Neanthals. He'd snuck away from home and found something to do with another boy when it had started.

He moved to sit on a log not far from the body as he collected himself. His nose still bled, one of the side effects of his growth, and the reason for the boy's death. His father hardly ever let him out because at any moment he could fall over in pain, vomit, or have a nosebleed revealing what he was. Tagon's blood was purple, not red like a human, and not blue like the Neanthal.

Why had his father bedded a woman like that and then taken the child from her if he wanted to hide it all along? And twelve years later, here he was. This kid was better dead than the entire family, yet he had no choice but to act. Today, of all days when he'd gotten freedom, he encountered his curse.

Now collected, Tagon dragged the boy's body to the creek where he washed, and then floated it. This would look as if he fell on a rock near the water and died. Just as he turned to leave, a small body ran in the opposite direction.

"Shit," he growled and ran after a child who had been hiding.

Where is he? Tagon thought as he looked around from side to side frantically. He smelled wood-burning and ducked down behind a tree as he neared a small house. His eyes narrowed as he looked for the child and silently cursed him for giving chase.