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Amadeus | Chapter Three: The Violinist

Genre: Werewolf AU, slight Fantasy AU, Musician!Reader

Pairing: Bang Chan/Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: violence, animal attack, violence against animals, mention of familial loss, injury

Synopsis: Chan belongs to the Order of Amadeus who work to keep the kingdom safe from the lycanthropy plague spreading among the populace. You can only hunt so long before you become what you hunt.

Y/N is a violinist in a traveling music troupe-one of the few left in the kingdom. One morning when she is practicing in the woods, a man emerges from among the trees and changes her life forever.

Down a member, the Order of Amadeus continues their mission to end the lycanthropy plague, but their missing member remains in the back of their mind as they narrow in on the worst wolf of them all.

There was nothing you loved more than a foggy, misty morning on the edge of the forest. The dew kissed your skin as you left your tent with your violin case slung across your body. It was made of fine brown leather, a gift from your adoptive family for your birthday earlier in the year.

The violin itself had been your grandmother’s and thus was made of an antiquated willow wood that was rarely found in modern violins. However, your troupe liked the older, deeper sound provided by your violin, becoming a mainstay of their sound. 

You walked lightly to prevent waking anyone in your troupe, especially Anton. He had become your de facto older brother since you joined the troupe. He did not like your morning trips into the woods to practice saying that you would one day come face to face with a wolf. Yet, in your two years traveling with troupe, never had seen the glowing, yellow eyes of a wolf up close.

Whenever you and the troupe camped near the woods, you often heard their howls and barks in the distance. Sometimes, it would send shivers down your spine, but then you would glance at the shotgun outside each tent and feel a bit safer. Never had anyone needed to use one but as one of the few traveling music troupes in the realm, you all had to take precautions.

Reaching a lone black poplar tree near a quick running brook, you slung the case over your body and undid the clasps to bring out your violin. It was stained a red-brown which everyone likened to your hair. When your grandmother gave you her old violin, it seemed like it was an indication you were meant to have it.

Placing the instrument between your chin and shoulder, the leather of the chin rest having worn a lighter color where your skin so frequently touched it. Bringing the bow to the strings you began to play. You were not playing any tune, in particular, preferring to let the light pressure of your wrist guide you.

The tune turned somber as it so often did. Unless following the notes laid out on paper, it seemed impossible for you to play a happy song since an avalanche destroyed your village. You still do not know how you ended up at the lodge at the bottom of the valley where the avalanche did not reach. Yet, you’d woken up on soft linen sheets with your violin case laid next to you. The sheets caressed it just as it gently wrapped around your bruised body.

At the lodge, you’d taken to entertaining the guests by the shores of the lake and sometimes in the late evening in the lounge. When the troupe stopped in the nearby village, Anton heard you playing by the lake one day. After an impromptu audition, he asked you to join the musical troupe because their strings section lacked and use the unique sound of your willow violin.

You were thankful to have found a family after losing your own. Still, it was in these early mornings that you became pleasantly somber. Watching the sturdy winter tadpoles practice swimming against the current, you heard a sound among the trees. The bow ceased its fluid movements as you looked around, not catching sight of any glowing eyes or bared teeth. 

It was early, but well past dawn. You would never venture into the woods in the dark. Though, you had heard rumors of eternal wolves–werewolves that never left their wolf form–daytime wolf attacks were rare. It was more likely to be a hare or deer whom you often see eating their breakfast during your practice sessions.

The bow glided over the strings again. The music floated high into the trees almost blending in with the sharp breeze as if it belonged there. You hummed along with the tune absentmindedly, your feet soon joining in to slowly move to the sorrowful melody. This was your favorite part of playing, the way it made you feel like you were lifted high in the air.

A growl sounded in dissonance to the violin. Bringing the violin away from your chin and expecting to meet a snarling wolf, you instead came face to face with a brown bear. Having grown up in the far West mountains, bears were much more manageable than wolves. Yet, you’d never come this close to one before.

Dropping your bow and gently placing the violin against the black popular, you remained facing the bear. It was just like meeting any other predator–never ever turn your back. Once the violin sat in its case, you raised your arms over your head and theatrically curled your fingers into claws.

Your father always told you that if you meet a bear make yourself as big and loud as possible. Your voice was held down with fear, but you managed to force the bear to take a step back, but it still stood with its back slightly arched and fur raised. The bear was skinny and mangy, tufts of missing and matted hair dotting its otherwise beautiful fur.

Bears rarely sought out humans for food, company, or otherwise. However, this one was desperate. It growled again showing ulcerated, bloody teeth. You kept your enlarged stance, but nothing could widen your body. The bear was at least four times your size, even with its diminished frame.

You managed to let out a yell, but it did not deter the bear. The beast raised up on its hind legs, doubling, if not tripling, your stature. As it began to come down, it moved towards you. This time you let out an unrehearsed scream and fell backward.

Before the bear’s claws could come down, it suddenly turned, its massive paws landing inches from your head. You heard a man yelling to your right. Anton?

Except it couldn’t be Anton because the camp was to the left. The right was further into the forest. Standing up on shaking legs, you eventually caught a glimpse of a man. He wore some sort of armor and appeared to have a knife, but a small rapier was hardly going to defend against a bear..

You realized he had thrown a rock at the bear which must have distracted the bear from you. The man and the bear fought in a way that looked like two humans. The bear tried to bite and the man dodged. The bear tried to swipe and the man countered. It was so natural and nearly unbelievable to watch. 

Eventually, you realized you should help, but had no idea how. You had no weapon or strength to fight off a bear. You’d already tried what you could. During the tussle, you noticed the bear’s interest in the pack the man wore. 

“Your pack!” you shouted, hoping he would hear you. The man brought his attention to you, only for the bear to get a successful swipe in that knocked him to the ground. Running towards the tussle, you reached them in time to see the bear ripping the man’s pack from his back.

Once it was free, you used all of your strength to pull the man out of harm’s way. It was only when you had managed to pull him a few feet and the bear had fled with the pack that you realized the man was helping you by pushing himself along with his feet. It was awkward, but you got him beneath the poplar to examine his wounds. 

The bear’s swipe had left a slash across his chest. He wore leather armor, but it appeared old and soft. The bear’s claws had slashed right through it, blood staining the light brown hide. You also noticed bandages around his forearm which had bled through hours before. You considered your options. He needed more help than you could give him in the forest, but you feared he would bleed too much walking back to the camp. 

“I apologize for this as we just met,” you said, reaching to unclasp his armor and unbutton his shirt. Thankfully, the slashes were shallower than they looked. You did not have any bandages, but since it was towards the end of mid-winter you wore your thickest petticoat with multiple layers of soft cotton and fleece. 

Reaching down for the man’s knife, you cut a strip of white cotton from your petticoat and pressed it to the wounds on his chest. While the man was conscious, you worried since he stayed nearly silent and still beyond his labored breaths. You certainly did not expect him to make small talk, but something seemed off. 

Applying as much pressure as you could muster, the blood soaked through the cotton rather quickly. You cut another strip and repeated until it took much longer for the blood to soak through. As you worked, you spoke to him, trying to keep him awake.

“Thank you for saving me,” you said. “I’ve never encountered a bear before. My older brother always says I would meet a wolf out here, but that was the only time something like this has happened.” You noticed his eyes peering up at you as you talked. 

“My name is Y/N, by the way. I’m a violinist in a traveling troupe that’s passing through. Once I get your bleeding under control, I’ll take you back to the camp. We have a lot more supplies there. Our flutist, Maria, also trained as a nurse at one point, so she will be able to do a much better job.”

The man’s lips quirked into a slight, almost imperceptible smile. “You’re doing a good job.”

It was the first thing he said, yet, it sent a shiver down your spine that was not from the cold. “You’re regaining strength. Can you keep pressure on your chest?”

The man complied and used his good hand to keep the bandage pressed firmly against his wound. Moving from his chest, you looked at the bandage on his wrist. You knew that you normally were not supposed to remove an old bandage from a wound. But, this one was so dirty and blood-soaked that you saw no other option. 

Unwinding the old bandage, you noticed the small clots of blood and breathed a sigh of relief. Still, you could tell it was a fresh wound. Cutting one last strip of cotton from her petticoat, you wound it around his wrist careful not to get it too tight.

“Stand up,” you said after tying off the makeshift bandage on his wrist. As he stood up, you took the two ends of the bandage and tied it behind his back. Picking up his shirt and the leather armor, you handed it back to him. For the first time, you noticed his hard muscles. Turning away to give him some privacy as he got redressed, you carefully arranged your top skit back over your petticoat.

“You’re bleeding,” he said from behind you. Facing him, you gave him an odd look, seeing that he was dressed and picking his knife up from the ground.

You do not remember feeling warm blood, but as soon as he mentioned it, awareness came back to your body and you felt pain on the side of your neck where you’d hit the bark of the poplar tree when the bear attacked. 

“It’s all right,” you said. “It’s just a scrape. Come on, let’s get back to camp.” Reaching for your violin that thankfully remained untouched, you secured it in your case before the two of you headed back towards the edge of the forest.

“Y/N!” Anton yelled when he saw you. He looked panicked, likely having noticed your absence lasting later than normal. “Where the Hell have you been?!”

“Where’s Maria? He’s injured,” you said, gesturing to the man who had slung his arm around his shoulders due to the settling pain from his wounds.

Anton’s tall form continued to stay close as Maria–hearing her name–emerged. She was one of the oldest members of the troupe. Plump with gray eyes and graying hair, the man seemed to relax when he saw her like a son seeing his mother.

“What the fuck happened?” Anton asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He was from the Southern provinces evident by his dark skin and accent that carried a lilt. 

“I was practicing,” you said. 

“You were practicing?” He quirked an eyebrow before scoffing. While he seemed angry, you noticed the relief washing over his features. “And then what happened?”

“And—then—a bear attacked—”

Anton let out a sharp breath. “See, this is why I don’t like you practicing out in the woods. You never know what is lurking in there.” He sighed and placed each of his arms on the tops of her arms. “Are you hurt?”

“Just a few scrapes and bruised pride,” you said, giving the man who had become your older brother a small smile. “That man—” It was only then you realized you did not know his name. “--he distracted the bear. Since he was injured I owed him a debt and brought him here.”

Anton was not a fan of new people that were not explicitly invited. You understood, but also wished he was not so strict about maintaining what he called “the integrity of the troupe.” Still, you knew he would make an exception this time because the man had saved your life and was not really in a state to cause much trouble.

“Very well,” Anton said. “We shall provide aid, but do not go getting attached. As soon as we reach the next village with a bed in their infirmary, we are parting ways.”

Chan woke up hours later. He noticed the sun was beginning to dip below the trees and the hour before sunset was upon them. The woman named Maria had stitched his wounds. Her eyes lingered on the bite wound, but she simply disinfected it and did not ask questions. For that, he was thankful. 

It was not long after he awoke that the violinist—Y/N she’d said her name was—came into the tent carrying a tray. On it was two blue ceramic bowls, a small plate of greens, and a roll. She sat down beside him and placed the tray over his lap. 

“I know it’s not a lot, but Maria said you can’t gorge yourself immediately.” Taking one of the bowls from the tray which seemed to contain a stew with a dark colored meat and a few types of vegetables.

Chan studied you, noticing that you had changed and your hair looked freshly washed. The scrape on your neck had been bandaged. He had noticed your natural beauty when he first came upon you playing in the woods. Hearing the somber song, he was surprised to find you dancing to it. He’d watched and listened for a moment, closing his eyes and nearly falling asleep since he had been up the entire night.

“Thank you,” he said. He took a sip of the stew and found that the meat was lamb—his favorite. Dipping the roll in the broth, he nearly salivated down his chin as he took a bite. This is certainly not the meal he expected from a traveling musical troupe, but he could not complain.

“Thank you,” you said. “It took a lot of bravery to take on that bear. I cannot repay you enough.” You bowed your head in respect and thanks.

Chan felt odd accepting your thanks as it was more instinct than anything. His training was to prevent beasts from ravaging the human race. Sure, normally, it was wolves, but all large carnivorous creatures were alike. Yet, he did not reveal his true identity to you. You would only feel more indebted to him and maybe even less lucky. He did not want you to feel like you were simply part of a routine.

“It is only what any respectable person would do.” He was already almost done with his food, absolutely ravenous after going nearly an entire day without any food. You seemed to notice and placed your roll on his tray. 

“Also, I never got your name,” you said, your smile reaching your eyes.

Chan thought for a moment. As he was from the Eastern provinces, he carried both his original name and the name that he used in places unused to the tongue of the Eastern provinces. He pondered which one he should tell you, but remembering he used his birth name in the Order, it became an easy decision.

“Christopher. My name is Christopher.”

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Amadeus | Chapter Four: The Seven

Genre: Werewolf AU, slight Fantasy AU, Musician!Reader

Pairing: Bang Chan/Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: talk of wound care

Synopsis: Chan belongs to the Order of Amadeus who work to keep the kingdom safe from the lycanthropy plague spreading among the populace. You can only hunt so long before you become what you hunt.

Y/N is a violinist in a traveling music troupe-one of the few left in the kingdom. One morning when she is practicing in the woods, a man emerges from among the trees and changes her life forever.

Down a member, the Order of Amadeus continues their mission to end the lycanthropy plague, but their missing member remains in the back of their mind as they narrow in on the worst wolf of them all.

Seungmin woke up as the first light shone through the trees. He and Chan usually were the first ones up, though, that is if Chan slept at all. There were many mornings when he would wake up and find their leader awake with bloodshot eyes, reviewing maps and the most recent reports.

This morning was different. He heard the soft breathing of his fellow Amadeus member. His eyes scanned down each one. Beside him, Jeongin slept soundly with his dark hair flopping over his closed eyes. Hyunjin and Felix slept closely together. Han and Minho each slept on either side of the fire which was now reduced to gray and black ashes. Changbin lay with his blanket pulled up to his chin, but his feet sticking out. 

Seungmin chuckled at the older man and gingerly walked to the fire to restart it. Grabbing a few chunks of the firewood they had shopped from a stump the night before, he placed it back among the ashes and crumpled up some dry leaves and dandelions he found nearby. Taking the black stone and his knife from his pocket, he led the spark to the base and watched as the fire ignited.

The warmth would likely wake up Han and Minho soon. He glanced over at the end of the camp where Chan had chosen to sleep the night before. His blankets were crumpled and Seungmin did not see their leader among them. Sometimes Chan would get up and go catch something for breakfast or get some more firewood, but considering his injuries and that they planned to eat what they carried and move on that did not seem likely. 

“Chan?” he asked, his voice louder than he would normally make it while everyone was still asleep. Seungmin heard a bit of rustling as he no longer was careful with his footsteps as he rushed to where Chan’s bedroll laid. Leaves crunched beneath him and the normally stoic man felt tears coming to his eyes as he found the blankets empty.

Looking around, he counted the packs and noticed that Chan’s was missing. That gave him a small amount of relief, knowing that he was somewhat prepared. It also meant that their leader had not turned since he likely would’ve woken them and not taken his pack. 

Despite the tears in his eyes, Seungmin hurried over to Minho—who was second in command—and shook him awake. Normally, this is something he would never dare to do because Minho could get quite grumpy. But, when Minho opened his eyes and saw the look on Seungmin’s face, any anger he held at being abruptly woken up dissipated. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately sitting up and touching Seungmin’s shoulder gently. As the second oldest, he often fell into the habit of taking care of those that came to the Order of Amadeus much too young. 

“Chan—he’s gone.”

It took them about four hours to get a message back to the Order. Even with the quickest messenger from the local village, it was hundreds of miles to the capital city, Seele. The remaining seven members of the Elite Eight regrouped at the inn they stayed at the night before. 

“He took the bandages,” Hyunjin said as everyone went through and emptied their packs. No one else spoke up, indicating he hadn’t taken anything else. 

“His bed was cold,” Minho said. “He likely left not long after we all fell asleep.” His brow knitted together as he tried to figure out what to do. It would take at least another few hours to receive instructions from headquarters. 

“We can’t leave him,” Jeongin said. “He wouldn’t leave any of us.” They all nodded in agreement. Chan would circle the kingdom a hundred times for any of his members. Yet, they had few indications of where exactly he had gone. 

“Changbin, Jeongin, start searching the village and talking to some of the locals to see if they have seen anything. I doubt he came this way, but it’s worth checking.”

The two men nodded and gathered their things. 

“Jeongin, Seungmin, you two wait here for the messenger and review the maps for probable places he could’ve found shelter within a few miles radius.” Minho did not think Chan would’ve gone far. While he was strong and capable of walking long distances and scaling rough terrain, his injuries and the exhaustion he surely felt would’ve limited him.

“Hyunjin, Han, you’re with me. We’ll head back to the forest and see if we can find any traces of him.” Everyone seemed to understand their assignments and within minutes they had fallen into their places.

Chan slept several hours for the first time in weeks. He was prone to bouts of sleepless nights that left his eyes deeply colored with unrest. That morning, he only awoke when Maria walked in carrying a plate with his breakfast—thick oatmeal, berries, and a sausage. Not much, but better than he likely would’ve had otherwise. Even though it was dinner, it seemed Maria had the idea to provide breakfast as if he had truly slept through the night. Chan was disappointed that you were not the one to bring him his breakfast, but he gave the older woman a smile and mixed the berries into the oatmeal. 

“Once you’re finished, we’ll have a look at those wounds,” she said, sitting down near the entrance of the tent. 

“Okay,” he said. “They’re less painful now.”

Maria’s eyes narrowed, but only slightly. She was hesitant to believe him. Though, she knew he was trying to be reassuring. “Good,” she said.

“Y/N said you play the flute.”

Maria nodded. She did not seem like the chatty type, but Chan wanted to see what he could learn from her. You, of course, told him so much, but he knew there were things that you wouldn’t tell him. Mainly, he wondered why a young woman like you traveled with this music troupe. 

You were obviously from the Western mountain region based on your accent and light skin. But, you were pretty enough to be the daughter of one of the wealthy mountain merchants. You should be debuting in the illustrious lodges of the mountains where wolves were still quite rare, instead of traveling with a band.

Much like his own group, he assumed something had happened that pushed you away from your home. The entire group was made up of people who seemed to be far away from where they belonged. 

“How did you come to join the troupe?”

“Chrysotomus?” she asked. 

The word was one that Chan had never heard before and he looked at her with his head slightly tilted as he brought the spoon to his lips again. 

Maria seemed to understand his confusion. “It’s the name of our group.”

“Ah.” He nodded and waited for her to continue on answering the question.

“I’d always loved playing music, but back in my day, women didn’t really do things like this. I settled down and had a family. My boys are all grown up now and my husband died some years ago. When all this wolf business started up, I took the opportunity to travel. At the time, I didn’t really care if I died, I felt I had nothing to live for.”

She paused and her lips formed a thin line with all the color disappearing briefly. “But, then, I found this group and they were all kids. I felt like I had to take care of them.”

Chan gave her a small smile. He’d finished his breakfast halfway through her story, but did not want to interrupt. The older woman was still agile and appeared not that much older than Chan’s parents.

“I can tell they appreciate you,” Chan said, reassuring the woman. He held up his bowl and set it aside. “As do I.”

Maria made her way to Chan’s bedside and began unwinding the bandages around his wrist. The wound was pink instead of red, but he could still see remnants of the blackened outline that was one of the tell tale signs of a wolf bite. 

“Ah, much better,” Maria said, again, paying no mind to the blackened edges of the wound. Grabbing out a clear liquid, she gave him a warning look before pouring it over his wrist. Chan winced as it burned into the wound. The burn thankfully subsided quickly, leaving behind only a bit of bubbling. 

She started rewrapping the wound with a fresh cotton bandage. The smell of the fresh cotton was beginning to become almost comforting in contrast with the irony bloodsoaked bandages when he’d wandered in the woods the night before.

“All right, sit up,” she said. Chan obliged, wincing slightly as he felt the muscles in his chest and abdomen contract, pulling at the wounds. He pulled his borrowed T-shirt over his head and was relieved when he was able to lay back down. 

Maria examined the fresher wound of the two. She applied both the clear liquid and another salv before helping him sit up again so that she could wrap the bandage around his back. As she finished tying off the bandage, you peeked your head into the tent. 

“Hey, is now an okay time?” you asked, seemingly both to Chan and Maria. 

“I’m just finishing up,” Maria said, looking at Chan who suddenly realized he was still shirtless. Even though you’d technically seen him shirtless when you tended to his wounds earlier in the day, his ears turned red and he reached for his shirt and slid it back over his body.

You seemed to pay no attention to his half-nakedness as you came to sit beside him. “I want to introduce you to the rest of the troupe. There’s not too many of us. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be too overwhelmed.”

Chan shook his head. “Not at all, I’d love to meet them.” 

He would’ve met them on your deathbed if it made you smile like you did when he answered. “I’ll be right back.”

Maria gave a sly smile before slipping out of the tent since it was about to get quite crowded. Chan noticed the shakiness in her hands and hoped that she was off to eat something herself.

It took about ten minutes for you to come back with a retinue of musicians following behind you. The tall, dark skinned man Chan recognized as the one who had greeted the two of you when you came back into camp. He stood closest to you and held a fairly indifferent expression, like an older brother dragged somewhere by his younger sister. Chan’s heart ached.

You started with the man beside you. “This is Anton. He’s our de facto leader and plays the clarinet and sometimes bass clarinet.” Next, you motioned to a shorter man with mouse-like features and a balding head. “This is Louis. He plays piano.”

The first two men left after their introductions and pleasantries to make room for the rest of the troupe. You pointed to two women—not too much older than you and Chan—who also appeared to be from the Eastern provinces. Though, based on their features and clothing, they came from the island nations east of where Chan himself came.

“Ayame and Ayaka, yes, they’re twins,” you said, chuckling at the obviously frequently asked question. “They play trumpet and trombone.”

Finally, you came to the last person in line. It was a young boy. He stood to your shoulder, but looked like he would one day be much taller. You placed your hands on his shoulders and smiled. “This is Benji. He’s our percussionist.”

Benji looked at Chan with wide eyes. “Did you really fight a bear?”

Chan chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

“That’s so cool. Can I see the scratches?”

You quickly looked down at the boy. “Maria just finished bandaging him. Maybe you can help her next time.”

Benji looked slightly disappointed but nodded. You noticed the way the young boy seemed to admire him and were secretly glad that the boy had someone younger to look up to. Anton—while the youngest man in the troupe—was still nearly a decade older than you.

The boy seemed to grow shyer as silence fell on the tent. He said his goodbye and ran from the tent and out into the late afternoon air. You smiled after the boy before sitting back down beside Chan’s bedside. 

“We all kind of take care of him, but he doesn’t really have a role model that isn’t old enough to be his father.” You began gathering up his dishes, which he’d forgotten were next to him. As you stacked things on his tray, Anton came rushing back into the tent. 

“Y/N, we need to pack up. We’re leaving tonight.” 

You scrunched your brows together. The troupe rarely traveled at night to avoid running into wolves, especially when traveling near the forest. It was easier to stay in one place and stay quiet.

“Why?” You asked, glancing over at Chan, obviously concerned on how well he would be able to travel. 

“We just got word from the village. The Order was in town last night and one of them got bitten. They’re missing. We can’t risk staying around much longer.”

Your eyes widened. The Order of Amadeus was the entity that worked to reduce the spread of the lycanthropy plague. It meant there had been enough wolf attacks in the area to warrant their presence, and the fact that one member was now missing was nearly unheard of.

You looked back at Chan again. “Is there room in one of the wagons?”

Anton’s gaze looked past you at Chan. ‘We’ll find room.”

With that, he left, presumably to get everything packed up. You quickly took his dishes from the tent and came back. You started packing things up silently, wetting your lips as the only sign of your nerves.

Chan’s throat went dry. Word had spread. Yet, there seemed to be no suspicion on him, and even if there was, it seemed the troupe did not plan to abandon him on the edge of the woods. He watched as you worked and used his strength to sit up. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

You turned to meet his eyes. “Uh, if you can get your bedding rolled up, that would be great. Once we get things in the wagons, I’ll find a space so you can lay down.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my legs. I’m happy to walk.”

“You know that if I allowed that, Maria would not.”

“Now, Christopher, if you want to make yourself useful, roll up your sheets.”

Chan smiled at your stubbornness. It reminded him of Minho, but the thought of what his friend was probably going through right now humbled his thoughts. He dropped to his knees and folded his sheets in half and rolled them as tightly as his bandages.

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