Blood-binding was common a millenium ago. Until Terrence Nott, a pureblood renowned for his fighting

Blood-binding was common a millenium ago. Until Terrence Nott, a pureblood renowned for his fighting prowess and sadism, forced a hostage and enslaved goblin to forge him a sword for his flamboyant duels in court. Hatred and cruelty poured into the sword from the goblin’s magic, his anger at being kept like livestock holding tight to the blade. Once it was cooled not in water, but hot blood, it refused to bend to the wizard’s will.

No but it had a taste for his blood instead. Every duel, every battle, the blade would twist to harm its own, drawing slight cuts and scars. Terrence didn’t notice the wounds until it was too late. Until after the blade had had its fill and was left sated in cold fingers.

And that, that is why, young wix, we do not harden our swords in our own blood. Because sometimes it draws no loyalty. Only hunger.

(submitted by kittenboudicca)