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madamdiaval · 6 months ago

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I saw in your tags for the scenario promts that you're accepting requests👀 How about “you will always follow the trail in the wood, and it will guide you on the same path, to the same cottage, the same witch. it will always be your undoing” with Yuu? or, if you don't write for them, “names are not like currency here; they are more precious than diamonds and legacies” with Malleus?

I'll give u both xoxo

The Woodcutter and The Prince

Inc: Malleus Draconia, Reader/Yuu, Sebek Zigvolt, Silver, Lilia Vanrouge, Grim Warnings: None for once LMAO WC: 4.3k Summary: A fairy tale of a woodcutter, a beast, three knights, and a lonely prince.

It feels appropriate to begin the story with ‘once upon a time,’ the token element, as that’s what all tales of magic and monsters begin with.

So, once upon a time, there was a woodcutter.

You, or Yuu, as many called you, were somewhat of a respectable member of your village. As one of the few people who was brave enough to go trekking into the darkened woods beyond the boundaries for the needs of the villagers, they often turned to you for aid when times grew dire, and winter began its inevitable descent. You had grown up in these woods. You had seen many of the things that the shadows and the soil had to offer, and so you had come to settle into this life alone, becoming quite content in your role as a provider.

One day, when you are deep within the bowels of nature that never seemed sated, the sharp blade of your axe biting into an oak as you sought to fill your quota, a great beast steps onto the path before you. Fire laps in its ears, and it has a tail like a trident, which twitches and sways in irritation. It holds its head low to meet your gaze, and it’s with that stare that you find your arm stilling, the axe soon held limply by your side. When you cease your cutting, the beast gives a low rumble from within its chest before speaking.

“Woodcutter, there is a beast in this forest that cannot stop devouring. If you can satisfy him, you will be rewarded.”

You take a wary step back then, your gaze uncertain as you observed the power rippling beneath the great cat's skin. Its toothy smile contrasts the softer tone it uses to share with you its plea. Yet, despite all these aspects, you feel no malice in its presence. So you heft your axe onto your shoulder and fix the beast with a frown.

“How can I be of help? I come out here to cut the woods, not satisfy the monsters they house.”

The beast's tail flicks again as it settles on its haunches. Reptile-like claws dig into the soil of the earth as a shuddering sigh leaves its form. “The beast is a prince who, despite having all the possessions in the world, still carries an emptiness in his core. He is guarded by three knights who let him do as he pleases. Open their eyes, and your reward shall be even greater.”

“How can I even find this prince, or beast, or whatever he may be? The woods are so grand you can hardly expect me to know every corner.” You gesture to the thick trunks and towering leaves around you. “I know only what is close to my home, as that’s all I’ve ever needed. These woods have been more than giving.”

“You know where he is already. You have walked that path before—though you may need to dig into your dreams to see it. You will always follow the trail in the woods, and it will guide you on the same path, to the same cottage, the same beast. It will always be your undoing—or, in this case, his.” The beast smiles a great grin that showed its many rows of shard-like teeth. “Do you not love your home? Do you not love your kin? If you leave him be, he will come upon your doorsteps in time like a starving wraith. He will claw his way into your homes and feed you sweet dreams until you rot to dust in your beds. Then, he will simply move on.”

“He sounds horrid,” you sputter, your grip on the axe tightening. The beast nods.

“In a sense, he is. But even the most horrid can change with the right prompting. So tell me—are you good at carving?”

You find your curiosity soon outweighing your fright over the beast and the tales that he spins. His warnings of what will happen to your home, should this prince be left unchecked, sends shivers up your spine and you find yourself nodding at his words. The beast almost looks satisfied as he rises again with another rumbling purr. He slips back into the brush that he emerged from, the foliage swallowing his form, until all that is left for you to see is a pair of burning blue eyes.

“Good luck, woodcutter. The forest now rests in your hands.”

And with that, he leaves you alone once more, with nothing more than an axe and a marred tree as your companions.

________________________

You do not remember your dreams very well. You never have, even in your youth. They seem to dissipate out of your mind as soon as you wake, leaving you grasping at the vaguest of visions to piece together what tapestry your mind wove. Still, your feet carry you forward into the woods with sure steps, the axe still held on your shoulder as you walk. It feels as though you travelled for many hours until you came upon the first of the three the beast warned you of—a man with green hair, and armour of iron.

“Today, we will enter the valley,” the man declares, unaware of your presence at the edges of the meadow, “and my prince shall find his companionship there.”

You watch on as the knight looks back along the path, as though expecting someone else, before he moves to a stream close to your hiding position. You lower yourself closer to the twigs and branches below before clearing your throat to speak in a low murmur.

“Fine knight,” you coo, throwing your voice to make it sound far different than it is, “do you truly intend to let your prince enter the valley?”

The green knight stands sharply, his hand touching his sword hilt as his eyes flash with anger. “Who goes there?” He demands, his voice like a booming of thunder across the meadow. You remain concealed as you speak again.

“Fine knight, do you truly think your prince will find a companion in the valley? What will he do if he does not? He will become more despondent, more enraged, and he will pull you into a dreamless sleep as he has so many others. Will you let him do that?” Your nails tap the handle of your axe as you watch the knight's expression. “Will you let him steal your dreams too?”

The knight doesn’t seem too fond of the idea as he stands by the stream, a conflicted look upon his face. His hand clenches and unclenches on his sword hilt before he looks back to the path once more. “I do not wish… to see my prince despondent anymore,” he murmurs, his voice now less fierce than before.

“Then find me a piece of yew and bring it to where your prince lay. I shall make it so that he may never feel alone again.” You urge. The knight seems uncertain still.

“Who are you? How can I trust you?” He demands again. You hum quietly from your hiding place.

“I am Yuu, and I swear that I will not lay a hand on your prince. If I do, you may guide the waters that fill this stream to fill my lungs instead.”

Well, this satisfies the knight, and with a huff and a nod he goes stomping into the forest to search for a yew tree. Once he’s gone, you creep out of your hiding place to continue down the path from your dream, pleased that the first obstacle is now done.

________________________

You find yourself disheartened as the walk carries on and the sun creeps further across the sky. It was dawn when you began, and now it is midday. Still, your mind remains focused as the beast's warnings play over, allowing you to be alert enough to hear humming before the figure emerges. The second knight is a creature in himself—a fae, wearing the clothes of a travelling merchant instead of the armour the first knight adorned.

He does not give you a chance to hide. His red eyes are locking with yours before you can even move, and the grin he offers shows a pair of brilliant white canines in his mouth. “Fine day, is it not?”

You pause, your axe on your shoulder as you open your mouth to respond before falling silent again. The knight and you observe each other for a moment before he speaks once more. “What brings you so deep in these woods? You are of the valley.”

“I am.” You answer deftly as you squeeze your axe handle again. “I am here to complete a task.”

“And what task might bring a woodcutter out here?” The knight prompts, taking a seat on a nearby stump to prop his chin in his hands. His smile does not waver as he watches you, and you know that trying to lie about your purpose to him will be a folly on your end.

“Do you truly intend to let your prince enter the valley?” You instead ask, lowering your axe as you shift your weight on your feet. The knight raises one dark eyebrow.

“Why should we not?” He replies easily. “He is our prince, after all. He wishes to find companionship, among others.”

“But dearest knight, do you truly think your prince will find a companion in the valley? What will he do if he does not? He will become more despondent, more enraged, and he will pull you into a dreamless sleep as he has so many others. Will you let him do that?” Your nails tap the handle of your axe as you watch the knight's expression. “Will you let him steal your dreams too?”

“I have no dreams left to steal!” The knight laughs as he leans back on the stump. “My nights are as empty as an abyss.”

“Then what of the others? When he steals away dreams and leaves everyone asleep, he will simply move on to another village. He will still be utterly alone. Do you wish to see him like that?” You pause to gesture to the silent woods around you. “Will you let him continue to hurt as well?”

The knight seems less fond of this idea as his smile wavers. Perhaps you are misjudging it, but this knight has an almost fatherly look about him when it comes to matters regarding his prince. His black nails tap his leg before speaking. “What do you offer him in turn, then?”

“Find me a smooth carving stone and bring it to where your prince lay. I shall make it so that he may never feel alone again.” You urge. The knight tilts his head in consideration.

“Who are you, and how can I trust you?” He muses. “We take great offence to lies, you know.”

“I am Yuu, and I swear that I will not lay a hand on your prince. If I do, you may urge the roots that tether these trees to tether my body instead.”

Well, this satisfies the knight, who rises from the stump with a soft laugh before stepping towards you. He touches your arm lightly and looks up at you with a mischievous grin, which does little to hide the wariness in his eyes. “Be kind to him, hm?”

Once he’s gone, you hoist your axe back upon your shoulder and continue down the path, the knights parting words now playing alongside the beasts in your mind.

________________________

Once more, you become disheartened as the midday sun soon shifts onto afternoon. You thought you’d find the prince faster and perhaps bypass the final knight, but it doesn’t seem that the world is willing to give you this break. When you come across the third obstacle, you do not see him as much as you do trip over his form. A stuttered gasp passes your lips as you regain your footing before looking down, where a pair of aurelian eyes are blearily looking up at you.

“Hm?” Languidly, the third knight sits up from his position beneath the tree. His silver hair nearly blinds you in the sunlight, but this still doesn’t stop you from seeing the peculiar army of animals hovering around his form. Squirrels, chipmunks, birds—it’s as though the entire forest rests by his side. “Who might you be?”

“Yuu.” You answer immediately, blinking your confusion away as you shift to face the odd man. He seems unbothered by both your presence and your axe as he remains sitting on the forest floor. “Are you… a knight?”

“Mhm.” The man hums back as he rubs his eyes before rising to his feet. The act sends the animals scurrying away in a tizzy as his attention drifts to you. “Are you in need of aid? You’re quite far from where the village lay in the valley.”

“I’m on a quest of sorts.” You watch the animals hovering on the edge of the treeline in interest before looking back to the knight. Despite his sleepy gait, there’s an alertness in his eyes that warns you off from trying any form of deception. “Do you intend to let your prince enter the valley?”

The silver knight looks surprised for a moment before he crosses his arms, a frown touching his lips. “... if he wishes to, yes.”

“But do you wish him to, knowing all that he will do if his desires fall through?” You decide a more honest conversation is best with this knight, who seems apprehensive of the plan to begin with. The silver knight looks past you to the pathway beyond for a moment before exhaling a soft sigh.

“I do not wish to see him hurt. I care for him dearly, for he is family to me, but…” the knight trails off, leaving you to pick up his sentence. “I also do not wish to see him so alone anymore. My father, my friend, and I—we have always been here for him, but he seems unable to see that.”

His father and his friend must have been the other two knights. You brave a step closer to the silver knight. “Do you think your prince will find a companion in the valley? What will he do if he does not? He will become more despondent, more enraged, and he will pull you into a dreamless sleep as he has so many others. Will you let him do that?”

“I can travel in dreams, so it is of no worry to me. But my father and my friend cannot.” The silver knight seems torn for a moment, standing on the precipice of loyalty and love, before his brilliant gaze looks to you again. “What are you offering, Yuu?”

“Find me clay—primed for creating—and bring it to where your prince lay. I shall make it so that he may never feel alone again.” You promise. He looks unsure for a moment.

“How can I trust you?” He asks, his voice soft and full of genuine concern.

“I swear that I will not lay a hand on your prince. If I do, you may take the stones that lay on this forest floor and lay them upon my body instead.”

Well, this satisfies the knight, who nods his head soberly before turning away. A wave of his hand sends the birds fluttering, the squirrels skittering, and many of the animals into a frenzy as he steps off the path into the woods. You watch him until he vanishes before turning back to the path.

___________________________________

When the sun dips below the horizon and the sky above the woods is a blaze of golds and reds, that is when you see the home where the prince resides.

True to the beast's words, it is not a grand palace you encounter, but a cottage nestled deep within the woods. A garden surrounds the home, which is built of stone and oak, and a fence guards the path to the front door. You push it open with some trepidation before following the stones to the entrance. A part of you seeks to take your axe within, but another part protests, leaving you to set it aside instead.

The door gives in to your push with little protest. When you pass through the threshold, you are enveloped in a warmth that seems unnatural, making your skin prickle beneath the wool clothing that keeps you safe in the woods. You tug on your collar as you look around the room—carvings and trinkets decorate the space, each one hand-crafted by someone who resides here.

And this is when your gaze comes to rest on him.

He’s observing you as you observe the space. He is a tall man—of this you can tell, even from where he sits—with sharp green eyes and dark lips which are twisted into a frown. Two black horns rise from his head into sharpened points, which are where your eyes go to immediately even as he speaks.

“Yuu.” Your name rolls off his tongue with such ease that it sends a chill down your spine. You look at him in surprise, wondering how he knows your name already, which he then goes to answer with his next few words. “Names are not like currency here; they are more precious than diamonds and legacies. You give yours far too freely to expect it not to spread.”

“Was it your knights?” You query as you move closer, drawing a chair out to sit across from him. The act momentarily surprises him as his expression shifts. This is a victory you take. “They all asked me for my name before I passed.”

“No, not the knights. Nature is a most noisy companion. Every breeze, every leaf, and every insect are buzzing about your venture. Dearest woodcutter, what is it that you seek from me?” The words are spoken with an undercurrent of distrust as the prince’s lip curls, showing teeth similar to those of the second knight. You take note of his pointed ears as well. A fae—not a monster like the beast said. Not even close, in fact. The guardedness in his gaze is not born of hostility. “You left your axe outside.”

“I haven’t used it at all on my walk. And I seek nothing more than a conversation.” You lean back in your chair as you glance out the nearby window. This position will let you see when the three knights make their return.

“You do not seek congenial conversation. I sense an interrogation is on the horizon.” He gives a harsh scoff as he crosses his arms. The temperature in the room seems to rise with his frustrations. “What is it you seek, woodcutter?”

“Are you going to the valley?” You bend to his demands and ask your questions as you meet his eye again. There is no cowering or simpering in your seat—you match his gaze steadfast with your own resilience.

“What if I am?” He counters with all the haughtiness a young prince may possess. The act makes him seem more human and prompts a quirk of amusement in your lips.

“What is it you seek?”

“Why does what I seek concern you?”

“Because I have been warned of what may happen if you cannot find it.” A moment of silence passes at your statement as the prince’s stubbornness remains. Then he sneers.

“Did the beast offer you a prize? Is that what you want? A pretty reward for stopping me?” He hisses. You consider his words carefully. At first you did want a reward, in addition to aiding your fellow villagers. The three knights you’ve met have altered this perception, however. The first one with his unwavering loyalty showed you what the prince could be. The second one with his paternal concern showed you what the prince has been. The third knight with his uninhibited care to both the prince and his family showed you what the prince is.

This is not a monster. This is a man in a cottage who has, in some way, been put in a role he isn’t sure he wants to fulfill. He has fallen into content monotony—precisely like you.

So you shake your head because you know this is the truthful thing to do. “I did want the reward, but not anymore. I would rather talk to you for a while.”

Another flash of surprise sparks another twinge of victory in your chest as the prince leans back in his seat. “... talk to me?”

“Mhm.” You gesture to the room. “Did you make these?”

“I?” The prince then looks around as well, as though noticing the carvings himself for the first time, before clearing his throat. “Some, yes. Others were aided by my knights. It is somewhat of a stress reliever for me.”

“They are quite nice.” You praise, which eases the tension in his body a little more, opening the opportunity for an amicable conversation. “How did you get into such a hobby?”

________________________

When the three knights return, night has fallen, and you have managed to coax the fearsome prince into quite the drawn-out conversation. You note that he becomes far more vibrant in his speech when speaking of things, he’s passionate about, to the point that he hardly notices the three knights nudging open the door until you pause the conversation yourself.

“Hello again.” You greet them, noting the materials they carry in their arms. The green knight seems guarded still as he looks between you and the prince, while the other two knights merely offer brief, knowing smiles before setting the materials on the counter.

A piece of yew, a stone, and an excess of clay held in a makeshift bucket. The prince’s eagerness is replaced by curiosity as he leans forward to stare at the items.

“Did you go foraging?” He asks the second knight incredulously. A tittering laugh is his response as the knight drifts to your side.

“Well, Yuu. You’ve seemed to have made yourself quite at home here,” he notes, the amusement never leaving him as glances at the prince. “Malleus, to not have even offered our guest a drink.”

“Lilia.” Malleus shoots back with a narrowed gaze, which only prompts Lilia’s entertainment over this matter further. “You, Silver, and Sebek are all obliging to a woodcutters orders, hm?”

“Oh, our dear Yuu was persuasive. They told me I could feed them to trees, told Sebek he could feed them to the river, and told Silver he could stone them if they put a hand on you—so we were not overly concerned.” Lilia pinches your arm lightly before looking at the supplies you asked. “I wager I have an idea of what these were gathered for, but please Yuu, do enlighten us.”

“Well, it’s far too late to do anything now—at least for me,” you quickly add as you glance at the quartet, “but I understand, Prince Malleus, that it’s companionship you’re seeking?”

Malleus seems slightly displeased at your read of him as he glowers at you—a sharp contrast from his previous joy. It’s Silver’s light nudging to his arm that finally draws a curt nod out of the prince.

“I know it may not be apparent to you, but companionship is already something that you have. Are you not accompanied by people who care for you in your daily life already?” You gesture to the three knights before continuing your points. “It may be hard to hear but promises of dreams and endless sleep are not ways to earn more people by your side. I began this thinking I was hunting a monster, but now I sit here across from you knowing that you and I are more alike than we think.”

Malleus seems ready to speak, but you shake your head, which causes his mouth to close once more. You then point to the items that the knights collected. “Each of those items are capable of being crafted and changed in some manner. What tools would you use for them, Malleus?”

“A blade for wood, a chisel for stone, and my hands for the clay.” Malleus answers immediately.

“Those are all tools you have on hand. Tools that can allow you to craft wonderful things if used right and if taught correctly.” You then look back to the prince. “Speaking with your knights has shown me that you are someone worthy of being cared for, of being around. You don’t need to go storming into villages—you have tools to earn their care. You just need someone to show you how to use them.”

You then sink back in your chair with a sigh. “I’m just a woodcutter, yes, but I’m also someone who knows my village well. If you let me, I can introduce you to them—without the sleep part.”

A pause fills the room as Malleus seems to consider your offer. The three knights remain silent near the door, but you can see by the looks being exchanged and the shifting on their feet that they, too, are hoping he concurs.

“... you give a rather valiant speech.” Malleus finally hums as his fingers go to touch his chin thoughtfully. “If you are willing, then perhaps… yes. I think I would quite like that, dearest woodcutter.”

If the room could heave a collective sigh, you’re sure that it would as you rest your elbows on the table with a small laugh. You do not know what the beast’s reward was meant to be, and the curiosity about it fades as you offer the cautious prince a reassuring smile.

You haven’t the heart to tell the man that you’ve never carved a single thing in your life—but that’s an issue for another day.

#twst #twst mc #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #twst yuu #twst fanfiction

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madamdiaval · 6 months ago

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𝑺𝑪𝑬𝑵𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.

↬ OF FAIRYTALES, FOLKLORE AND FAEKIND.

scenarios inspired by various settings, encounters & magic tucked between pages, fashioned by the author.

+ feel free to change pronouns / roles !

FAIRYTALES.

‘ let me guess, you thought a true love’s kiss would help you. ’

‘ you will always follow the trail in the wood, and it will guide you on the same path, to the same cottage, the same witch. it will always be your undoing. ’

‘ i have never seen a more tragic creature. how might i help you ? ’

‘ you must take this knife and plunge it into his / her / their heart. ’

‘ forget yourself. that is how you break your curse. ’

‘ remove this thorn from my hand, and you will be rewarded. ’

‘ i’m tired of being a prince. i think i would actually enjoy being a frog. ’

‘ tell me of the beast, and i will hunt it for you. ’

‘ mice are never just mice, and pumpkins are rarely just pumpkins. ’

‘ i don’t think breaking a spell should be this simple. ’

‘ i never thought i’d return here, to the site where it all began. ’

‘ are you an orphan ? it’s just that they’re always finding themselves in magical predicaments. ’

‘ the mirror speaks falsely in your ear. it is your true curse. ’

‘ my heart feels uneasy, although i am free. is it supposed to ? ’

‘ i’m sorry, it’s just that i thought this is the part of the quest where the animals ought to start talking to me. ’

‘ of course i plan on going to the ball. why wouldn’t i ? ’

‘ jealousy has made more witches out of women than adam’s rib. ’

‘ where has choosing goodheartedness and having golden hair ever gotten you ? ’

‘ are you a helpful wizard, or the kind that sits in a tower reading moldy books ? ’

‘ i’m dreadfully bored. who knew waiting for a prince was so strenuous ? ’

‘ we all have towers we must leave, and magic that will try to thwart us. ’

‘ i’m afraid for the clock to strike. the hour will ring in the place of my heartbeat when we must be parted. ’

‘ i had no idea carpets could fly. or pigs for that matter. ’

‘ what would happen if the knight did not arrive to the castle, and the dragon made a den of it and a hoard of its people and prize of its princess ? ’

‘ i sometimes think i was switched out at birth, like a lizard in a bird’s nest. i belong somewhere else. ’

‘ in another kingdom exists a throne and a crown that is mine by right. ’

‘ if i did not wake up one day, i would still be waiting on a spinning wheel, dutifully bored. ’

‘ something in me knows you are here for my heart. ’

FOLKLORE.

‘ in all the myths i’ve heard, it’s never been worthwhile to approach strange sights. it’s best to turn around and pretend you never saw them. ’

‘ nothing is folklore until it exists longer than consciousness remembers, and lives in spite of it. ’

‘ i’ve heard your name before, in songs and lengthy ballads. ’

‘ whatever has led you here to me, there is destiny in its making. ’

‘ the beast returns every century or so, and tries to devour us. it will come again before long. ’

‘ a pretty face is not nothing. it earns you a hearth and a kind hand, after all. ’

‘ their lips are red as blood, and their teeth carve ruin into throats. ’

‘ aren’t dragons supposed to breathe fire and make a fuss about having their treasure found ? ’

‘ someday you will become a pilgrim, a saint, or a favored story, while i will be a voice on the wind. ’

‘ the stories say brides don’t live to the light before demons devour them. why should i become one ? ’

‘ there was another girl like you once, in a small town like this one. i can’t remember if she became the monster or died trying to escape it. ’

‘ remember to festoon the hearth with garlic, or rosemary, or one of those mundane herbs that keep evil out. ’

‘ that sounds like nothing but a tall tale, but i’m certain smaller minds would eat it up. ’

‘ to cross this bridge, you’ll have to pay a heavy toll. ’

‘ don’t stray too far from the path set before you, or something interesting might happen. ’

‘ i’ve passed that yard of crops a million times, but the crow never moved from its post until this morning. ’

‘ it is as though ancient fears are still in us like scars or stitches. ’

‘ graveyards aren’t where you find ghosts. look for them in places that feel like memories you shouldn’t have. ’

‘ stories reap princes from peasants as if their skins were crops in the ground. ’

‘ what form does your fear take ? surely not that of a bear or a lion. such things are too assuring. ’

‘ i found myself where everything was too familiar to be real. ’

‘ in safe beds on cold dark nights, we learn to face the monsters in our own minds. ’

FAEKIND.

‘ you’re not to partake in a fairy feast. don’t you know it’s the food that will devour you ? ’

‘ i’m sorry you did not read the eyes of the trees before finding yourself here. ’

‘ i wish to go back. i want to forget everything. ’

‘ you think that believing in us is enough to protect you ? that it will kill us if you forget, and we prey upon your unknowing ? ’

‘ step around the ring three times, like a backwards clock. that’s how you get to fairyland. ’

‘ i’ve never heard such sweet music before. ’

‘ where the trees begin to twist and groan in their roots, remember you must not make a right turn. ’

‘ i didn’t feel like i’d stepped into another world, but like it stepped into me. i knew i was there and forgot i’d left anything behind. ’

‘ how amusing. a human ! ’

‘ would you be my bride if i were to take you into the ground ? ’

‘ i know of tunnels you might take, the burrows of trolls and rabbits. ’

‘ don’t take anything from this realm, none of it is worth the price of keeping. ’

‘ there are courts by many titles in the lands beyond the veil, all of them other. ’

‘ names are not like currency here; they are more precious than diamonds and legacies. ’

‘ did you think all of us looked like goblins ? ’

‘ getting here is easy, but getting home is quite the trick. ’

‘ i shall give you a riddle, and it will puzzle you until you know the answer but forget your own soul. ’

‘ a bloodline is nothing when you’ve outlived civilizations. ’

‘ refusing my hospitality is like human sin, and it will bring worse upon you. ’

‘ everything here is and isn’t, and things are and aren’t. ’

‘ on lonely nights i stare into the trees, and a strange face leers back. ’

‘ the thrones here are made of bones and blood, and built upon decay. ’

‘ a third time is not a charm, but a bargain. it says that you want something enough to wager your sense. ’

‘ it is dangerous to think that magical beings do not have human intensities. ’

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madamdiaval · 6 months ago

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Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 1.5]

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: There is a little, annoying human trapped in this bay with him. And he's going to eat them. (Vil's POV)

[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3]

There was a little, raggedy human staring up at him from the sand, and Vil had never felt so miserably persecuted in all his years.

The thing had been bound to him in a mess of ropes and frantic, bipedal flailing, and he’d honestly thought that it had drowned. Hoped that it had drowned. But no, apparently he couldn’t be quite so lucky. None of his pod’s raids had ever gone so terribly, and normally he was better able to keep his head about him. But it had been Epel’s first attempt at sneaking on board one of the grand, creaking, human vessels, and maybe he’d been a touch concerned about it. Like a fretting parent sending their guppy off to the deep for their first solo-swim. And perhaps he’d struck a bit too quick and sharp when he saw things headed South. Not taking the normal care he would to assess for traps, or weapons, or stupid humans and their equally stupid, fraying ropes.

But none of that mattered. It was hardly a crime to want to protect your family. It had happened, that was the end of it. There was no changing things. And now he was here. In this cove. With that thing.

You pedaled backward in the sand like those two legs of yours hardly worked at all, and even though it looked like you were retreating (rightfully so, at least you were smart enough to realize this was a lost battle), Vil still bared his teeth in a challenge. Because he was angry, and sore, and at the moment you were the cause of every, single one of his problems in the world. He tossed his tail in the surf, splattering stinging bits of ice water into your face.

“Stop! Stop!” you squawked, wheeling away like he was dousing you in acid rain rather than a bit of pissy water warfare. “I get it! I won’t come near you, jeesh! I wasn’t planning on it to begin with!”

“Of course you weren’t,” he spat. “From the looks of you, you don’t plan much of anything at all.”

You didn’t respond to his scathing insult, only kept scooting yourself back against the sand on legs that still apparently refused to work. Or maybe you’d simply forgotten about them. You seemed like you could be the type.

He ground his talons into the damp sand at his hips and felt the ridges of the fins along his spine prickling tight and painful, trying to puff out in a predatory display that they simply couldn’t because he was still bound in the godforsaken rope.

“I don’t know what your little plan was,” he hissed, “but you’ve done both of us a disservice. And while I’m sure you’re used to disappointment, I am not going to tolerate this.”

More silence. You looked—not confused, per se. But definitely not particularly keen on following his very justified rant against your person. Your gaze kept darting from his vicious glare, to his claws digging up the shoreline, and then to his lips. He could see your own mouth moving a bit alongside his, like you were trying to echo the shape of the insults flying off his tongue.

“Listen here, you fleshy rat,” he snapped, jabbing a black talon in your direction. “You’re going to tell me the course that your ridiculous ship had set so that I can return to my pod at once. Do you understand? And if you’re lucky, I won’t crawl my way up there to bite off your fingers one by one. How’s that sound?”

You blinked back at him with no comprehension, like his marvelous depiction of having your bones gnawed on for snacks just wasn’t a vivid enough picture.

The rage in his chest bubbled bright and hot, and the age-old magics in his veins zipped through his blood like a stroke of lightening.

Insolent brat.

Fine. He’d make you listen then.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you said, and oh, you were a nuisance. He was going to rip your nerves out from the depths of your useless, human limbs. Feast on your bones until the marrow had been picked clean and leave the scraps for the gulls—

He parted his lips and sang loud and sharp—letting that familiar lull roll off his tongue like the sweetest poison. His Call had always been the strongest in his pod, after all. That’s why it was his job to keep them safe, to ensure that no one was lost in a hunt that was meant to be so simple just because they couldn’t keep their purple-headed curiosity under wraps long enough to not to be caught—

Vil turned his sneer back your way, fully prepared to see you kowtowed before him with your nose buried in the sand. And—

You were just sitting there. Butt in the muck and just as wide-eyed and brainless as before. Staring back at him with a startled sort of expression on your face and nothing else. Normally there was a sort of tether between him and his victims. A call, an answer. Simple principles. And while he could never see the tangible net of his influence tightening around their brains, he could always sense it. Or at least something like it. But this time, there was just… nothing.

Vil snarled, swallowing around the spiky pinch of something in his gut that he refused to call panic, and canted his head back to sing louder.

The shallow dregs of the cove rippled at his hips with the force of it, and he could feel the swell of his influence curling out further and further. Digging its claws into anything and everything it could reach. He could feel one tether spooling out and grabbing after the other, feel the familiar pull of subservience from the very sea itself. And—

“I can’t hear you!”

Oh, you mocking piece of—

He widened his mouth until his jaw was creaking and his tongue was going numb from the sharp bursts of arcana snapping from throat.

“It’s not a challenge!” you wailed, hands cupped over your mouth to try and shout over his howling song. “My ears literally, actually, do not work, you fucking overgrown anchovy!”

His mouth fell closed all at once, the Call cutting off so abruptly that the returning wave of snapping magics almost made his head spin. The power of it hung along his nerves like the zipping prickle of electric eels, and the water at his hips churned and bubbled.

“There,” you huffed, like someone who’d just been horribly inconvenienced by a gust of wind ruining their hair, rather than a human bearing the full weight of a siren’s fury. Brushing off some of the most powerful magics in the ocean like it was nothing worse than a bit of sand in your trousers. It was… unnerving. And it had something uneasy curdling in Vil’s stomach.

He dug his claws into the sand, fins flaring along his sides in a defensive display before he could help himself. Your eyes tracked the way the muck gave way beneath his talons and he watched your throat bob. Good. You should be afraid of him. Because he refused to be afraid of a human like you. No matter how the hair at his nape prickled or the fins at his ears pinned against the sides of his head.

“Well…” you said after a long moment, awkward and stiff. “I should get going, I suppose.”

And then you were stumbling your way to your feet to venture deeper into the crags of the small island. Vil smacked his tail against the surf, loud and sharp. A plaintive ‘good, begone,’ if ever there was one. But you didn’t even flinch, let alone turn around to witness his grand ‘fuck you.’ He wasn’t sure why he was expecting you to.

He watched you crawl your way up a mess of boulders and old shells, eyes narrowed and that same, unpleasant prickle running through his nerves. Once you were well and truly out of sight, he returned to his fins and started doing all he could to assess the damage. The sooner he could deal with this setback and set out into the depths of the ocean, the sooner he could return to his pod. And the sooner he’d be away from you, and all your strange, human ways.

You returned maybe an hour later, only a few minutes after he’d given up on trying to pick the horrid mess of twine from the wounds along his tail. His claws weren’t made for such delicate work, and the poisoned tips of them weren’t doing his shredded fins any favors.

He turned on you with a snarl that would have sent any other sentient creature scurrying for cover, fins pinned and canines on full display. But apparently you had less self-preservation than even the brainless, teeny, rock crabs burrowing hurriedly into the sand.

“Hello,” you said. Like that was any way appropriate.

“Get lost,” he snarled.

You nodded back, simple and sage, and then pointed to the mess of your ropes twined along his fins.

“I can get that off if you promise not to eat me.”

Vil sneered and surged forward to scrape his claws through the muck again, hoping his demonstration of what he would do to your face if you stepped near him was clear enough to get through your head.

“Touch me and you’ll be lucky if all I do is eat you.”

You blinked back, and he watched the way your eyes jumped across his expression. Trailed to his mouth, his brow, his teeth. Reading whatever you could see there. And then you shrugged again, unbothered by his spitting threats as before.

“Alright. Your loss, I suppose.”

There was a keenness to your gaze though, a sharp, pointed consideration that had his hackles rising all over again.

“If you think that you can be rid of me that easily, you’re solely mistaken,” he spat, smacking his fins into the shallows until the water was churning wild and angry. “This is all your fault, and whatever ridiculous plot you’re considering, I’ll gladly return it tenfold.”

Your face pinched like you had any right to be annoyed by this at all, and then promptly turned away from him like you’d lost all interest in his theatrics. You meandered around the shore, scooping up the battered remains of some of the fish that had stranded themselves during his failed Call. Then you sat yourself well away from the water’s edge and pulled a knife from your boot, running it along the fish’s scales and clearing out the muck.

“Thanks for the food!” you chirped petulantly, making long, pointed, eye contact as you did so. Like that little blade of yours was supposed to be any sort of a threat. Perhaps he could use it to pick the leftover bits of you out of his teeth.

Vil turned up his nose and returned to carefully grooming the shredded ends of his fins.

“You’re an obnoxious brat,” he growled, wincing as his claws caught over a frayed patch of scales and began to bleed all over again. “And I’m going to drown you.”

Naturally, you did not respond.

The rope burned, and he knew he wasn’t helping himself. The twine of it was frayed, poor quality. And combined with the tacky, salt-sticky damp of the waves, it made the worst sort of web. Vil threw himself around in the shallows like a pup stuck in their first net. And he knew—knew—this wasn’t going to make things better. But the more he worked to free himself and the less progress he made, the angrier he got (Not afraid, angry. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t).

A tight bit of fibers snagged along the delicate mesh of the fins at his hips and gave a shrieking riiip that had him collapsing into the sand bed with a bitten off noise that he refused to call a gasp. But Sevens, it did hurt. He pressed his face into the shallow pool of warm water beneath his chin and forced his breath to calm, to dig his claws into the grit beneath him rather than his own scales. Because this wasn’t working. And he—he needed to fix it. On his own. Because he was on his own. And he was going to manage, just like he always had.

There was a noise off on the shore—the tumbling of pebbles against stone as you shifted around in your little, makeshift hideaway. And he refused to look up to meet your gaze. Because surely you were staring. Humans were always so happy to watch his kind suffer, flailing about in their traps and bound in nets like a garish display. And he wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of knowing he’d been seen like… like this.

So he forced himself to go still and silent, ignoring the pain biting into his sides like the teeth of a shark and the panicked, clawing thing in his gut that kept screaming that he was going to die here.

The next morning, you were wandering the shoreline, scrounging after the remains of various crabs from the day prior. Vil refused to look at you, and spent the time pointedly running his claws through the tangles in his hair and primping himself like he didn’t have a care in the world. Because if a stupid, lowly human fit for nothing but an after-dinner-snack could thrive in these circumstances, than surely he could do even better.

There was the soft, wet sounds of your footsteps behind him, and Vil turned on you with a roaring snarl—fins pinned and spines perked, defensive.

“What?” he snapped, beating his tail.

You awkwardly held up one your pickings—a round, red crab with fat claws.

“I don’t know if you all eat fish or whatever, but…”

Vil fought the urge to gawk. Were you offering him one of—but why would you—

He bit through his surprise with another sneer. “Firstly, crabs are crustaceans, not fish. You’d think any self-respecting creature that spent their days on the ocean would know something as obvious as that. Secondly, why would you even think that I would share a meal with you? Even I didn’t think humans could be that stupid, but you’re certainly setting a new bar.”

Your mouth twitched at his very sharply enunciated ‘stupid’ and he fought a smirk.

“Oh. Know that one, do you?” he cooed, all mocking.

“Look, do you want it or not?” you snapped, irritated, and his fins flared up again—wide and defensive.

Vil crossed his arms on an exaggerated, pointed huff and turned in the other direction. A clear dismissal. “I’d rather starve.”

“Whatever,” you griped, voice canted sharp with your foul temper, and then there was a crack and a yelp.

Vil turned back to see you reeling away, hand over your mouth to catch a mix of blubbering, wincing curses and a shattered crab shell clenched between your fingers in the most obvious show of stupidity he’d perhaps ever seen. He burst out into laughter before he could help himself, and you stormed away with warm cheeks and pieces of jagged, red shell still clinging to the corners of your lips.

That night he fought the ropes even harder, ignoring the way they pulled, and tore, and dug into places that he knew they should not. And maybe it was self-destructive, stupid, but if he didn’t get himself free of this horrible mess his fins would never heal. He’d never be able to swim properly again. And he’d never be able to leave this cove, never return to his pod, his family. Never—

A shell walloped him in the back of the head and Vil turned with a shriek so vicious it nearly startled even him. Because there you were—the bane of his existence. Standing at the edge of the water with that ridiculous, deadpan look on your ridiculous face and already scrounging about in the sands like you were looking for something else to throw at him. He didn’t even know what he was screaming at that point, absolutely brought over the edge in rage, and pain, and fear, and it was all. your. faul—

Then something in your expression snapped and you were storming forward towards the surf—absolutely incensed.

“Look, fish face! You were the one who attacked me! You!” you shrieked, stomping in the sand and nearly pinning the longer, trailing ends of his fins beneath your heels. “So stop acting like I’m some scheming shithead who was planning to trap you like this from the start!”

“You trapped me!” he howled, outraged. “You were going to kill a member of my pod! Who’s barely out of his pup days! And he was my responsibility, and you were going to attack him!”

Magic zipped along his tongue, demanding that you kneel. Show your throat and be done with it. But when you just kept glaring back—absolutely stone-faced and seething with indignation—Vil forced himself to take a breath, and then another.

“Epel,” he spat, low and exaggerated. He saw your eyes flicker to his lips, trace the outline of the word. “Epel,” he said again, sharp and angry. And when your own mouth began to subconsciously follow the shape of it, he was off and running again. “He’s my responsibility. Epel. He—” Vil pointed at the pale, lavender creases at the base of his fins. “His hair is like this. You saw him. You spoke to him. And you were going to tie him up just like you did to me.”

Your eyes narrowed, sharp.

“That kid,” you said after a moment, lips twisting in a frown. “You attacked me because of Purple Head?!”

“Epel,” Vil spat again, smacking his fins into the surf to douse you in a mess of seawater. “Not some kid. A pup. Barely of age. And you were going to—”

“You—” you hissed, scrubbing the salt from your eyes with the back of your hand. “He was still attacking us first! He was going after my friend!” you snapped, kicking your own wave back. It splattered along Vil’s hips, barely a sprinkling in comparison to his own tidal waves. “You don’t get to act all noble and protective, and like any of that makes any difference when you all were going to eat us!”

Vil snarled, and the twist of it left a bitter, rotten taste on his tongue. It wasn’t the same. It didn’t matter what you wanted, because you were just some human. Humans were vile, and cruel, and good for nothing but filling their bellies. And this was his family. So what if you claimed you were just standing up for your own brood? It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t.

So he turned back to dive into the shallows with as much force as his aching, crippled fins could manage. Sinking to the bottom of the cove in a huff of bubbles and clawing his way through the muck until he was well and truly hidden in the murky, sandy depths. He smacked his tail against the mess of pebbles and rocks until every creature beneath was scurrying for safety—fleeing outwith the flailing, destructive force of a Siren’s tantrum.

Was that why he was here, then? Bound and gagged on some hellhole of an island because of his own mistakes? Because you’d just been aligning yourself with the moral high ground he’d been riding this whole time? Saving your kin at the cost of your own, fragile skin. Dragged overboard to fight the monsters trying to devour your family whole. Ridiculous. He wasn’t going to let himself feel bad for the slighted prey in a hunt gone wrong. Sharks certainly didn’t regret the fish they chased, nor did the great black-and-white whales that pursued those sharks in turn. This was just the way of things, the circle of life. And he wasn’t going to feel guilty about the tight, protectivelook on your face as you shouted him down about defending your own pod at all.

You were curled up by the same rock the next morning, sleeping soundly against the rough hewn edge. It looked hideously uncomfortable, with your chin tucked up against your chest and your head pressed against half-a-dozen layered, jagged ridges. Vil had always heard that humans were used to luxury—soft, plush blankets made of foreign fabrics and great, stuffed squares of bedding that could put even the finest woven siren nests to shame. And there you were. Scrunched up with a shell clearly embedded in your cheek.

He frowned, fins rippling awkwardly at his sides where the majority were still knotted up in twine.

He needed to leave this cove. As soon as possible. And get away from… all of this.

It generally wasn’t considered the best of ideas to Call openly across the sea. Lone sirens were prime targets for all sorts of nasty scavengers. Human hunters, rival pods, even other rogues looking for a fight. It was dangerous to mark one’s position so openly, let alone in a manner that made it obvious of the less than stellar situation they had no doubt found themselves in. It was also a nasty toll to try and Call so far for so long, on himself and the environment around him. A screeching, horrible thing that he’d only heard a few times in all his years. It was a terrible idea for everyone involved, himself and his fellow castaway most of all. But, well, desperate times, and all that.

Besides, it wasn’t like you’d be able to hear it anyways.

So began his endless song.

He’d sing, and sing, and sing—feeling the ripples of it carrying across the surface of the water and shivering through the air. And then, after he’d worn his throat ragged, he’d pause. Just long enough to swallow around the sting and tilt his head to listen. His fins would flare out against the side of his head, and he’d wait. And then, when there was no answer to his Calling, he’d circle back and do it again. A part of him hoped there would be none. He’d taught his pod better than to do something so foolish—to put themselves at the mercy of all the monsters of the sea. And… if they didn’t answer, perhaps that just meant they were searching for him. Using his own, ridiculous harping to trace him down. And if not that, then at least that they were off somewhere safe. Somewhere far, and hidden.

He swam and sang until he was too exhausted for either. Bound fins a heavy, leaden weight at his hips and head barely cresting above the water.

When the sun set over the horizon, Vil let himself roll in alongside the surf to rest in the sand, boneless and sore. His eyes slipped shut with the encroaching darkness, too heavy to hold open at all. He hadn’t seen much of you today. Occasionally you’d wander down to the shoreline, head popping up over a cluster of rocks to shoot him a look that he couldn’t quite decipher, but for the most part you’d stayed hidden away. Out of his hair, at least. Perhaps you’d finally learned what was good for you, and that keeping as far away from the beast lurking in the shallows was the only way you’d be getting out of this alive.

And then his eyes were snapping open to a field of stars overhead and the moon hanging fat and low in the sky like a fruit ripe for the plucking.

And there you were, hovering over him with that laughably small knife of yours.

Carefully and gently working the rope away from his tattered fins.

Your fingers were delicate, precise. Every time those woven fibers tugged in a way that could even begin to hurt, you were softening your touch and muttering reassurances under your breath. He wondered if you realized you were doing that at all—chattering quiet, rambling nonsense like a nervous tick. ‘Ack, don’t twitch so much, it’s just going to cut deeper,’ and ‘sorry! Sorry! I didn’t think that would move like that! Just—just stay still and it will all be done way faster and then you can swim off, and—’ You were exceptionally careful over the areas of rough, beaten scales along the dip of his tail, wincing in sympathy at the raw, raw skin there. The blade never strayed anywhere it wasn’t needed, and you never touched any part of him that wasn’t in an effort to work another tangle of knots free.

Vil kept himself perfectly still and his breaths even and deep. He watched you through the low, golden dip of his lashes, eyes tracking your fluttering hands and quiet mumblings.

The last of the rope fell away with a wet, heavy plap in the sand and when you sighed there was a smile in your voice.

“There,” you muttered, soft. “Now he can swim home again.”

He froze, startled, and something dropped low and tight in his gut.

Because humans were cruel. Humans were food. Humans were nothing more than vermin crawling over the surface of his ocean in their hunkering, wooden vessels and finless feet. They didn’t deserve sympathy, or anything of that ilk. And—

Your gaze met his and the spark of horrified realization didn’t even manage to settle properly in your wide, wide eyes before he had you pinned in the sand.

It was easy—far too easy. Compared to him you were so small, so fragile. No heavy, bulk of muscle and scales to help keep you alive and fighting. Just fragile limbs and lungs that were good for nothing. He dug his claws into your shoulders and felt the warm prick of blood curl up beneath his talons—could see you wince with the first pinch of acrid poison sharpening the wound. He was going to rip you apart, just like he’d said he would. Even if you hadn’t been able to hear him, he’d show you. Because humans were vile, and no matter what you’d claimed, you didn’t deserve anything better than an end beneath the points of his fangs. Fuel for the journey back to his pod and nothing more.

‘There. Now he can swim home again.’

He reeled back, nose scrunching and teeth grinding in his jaw.

You were still beneath him, blinking up in shock but not fighting. Like being flipped onto your back had been startling out of principle, but not unexpected. Like the idea of dying at his claws was just something you’d been expecting from the get-go.

And yet—

‘Sorry! Sorry!’ you’d been rattling. ‘Ah, if you squirm it’s just going to hurt, you stupid, overgrown fish—'

Vil reared back with a snarl that had goosebumps racing all along your arms, and then he was diving back into the shallows—swiping the tip of his fins against your nose as he went in a sharp crack that he hoped would have you yelping and stumbling away from the ocean’s edge.

He paced along the edges of the bay, newly freed fins slowly uncurling in the lull of the tide. And he felt free. Sore, certainly, and aching in ways he never had before, but free.

When he popped his head back out of the water, you were sprawled out in the sand like a dying starfish, absolutely out of your mind and babbling nonsense about ‘captains’ and ‘collars’ under your breath.

‘Good,’ he harumphed, diving back into the shallows to twirl along his unbound tail. ‘Maybe that would teach you to stay out of the water.’

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