#I just think that rude friendships look a lot like how the peak lords would expect SQQ qould act like if he didnt like someone

[torchstelechos]

Genuinely think that SQQ being a dick to SQH at any possible chance during peak meetings saved a lot of suspicious from the other peak lords. Him being one of those petty online friends but in real life makes all the peak lords just accept that the much nicer SQQ actually is SQQ because look at that! He called SQH a talentless hack of a man and hit him with his fan! It might be more expressive that SQQ was before but the spirit is still the same!! Of course SQH and SQQ both are besties 4ever in this instance but to others it doesnt look like that lmao

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 4

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

Upon returning to the surface again, Mother Miranda seems confused, but mostly relieved, that Salvatore did not show interest in lingering in the village any longer than necessary. Though Salvatore did end up needing to stay for one last brief conversation, in which he and Mother Miranda discussed various parts of Nadine’s file, as well as finalized the date and approximate time in which Salvatore could expect the villagers to arrive at the reservoir gate with his gift in tow.

2 days from now, was the final agreement, as it would ensure that Salvatore would be the first of the Lords to receive his gift, making up for the fact that he was the last of them to pick. It also permitted him the luxury of some spare time to prepare a new permanent living environment of some kind for his gift. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

Regardless, Once their conversation finally concluded, Salvatore bid his beloved Mother a quick, but appropriately appreciative thank you and goodbye, before closing the large wooden door to the meeting room and trudging back out into the cold, harsh winter snow. Despite a lack of improvement in the weather since Salvatore’s initial journey into the village, the mutant man maintained a solid pace through the snowy paths, seemingly uninhibited by the forceful winds attempting to throw him from his course.

With little time remaining, Salvatore wanted to return to his reservoir as quickly as possible to begin making preparations; though, what exactly it was he was supposed to do in order to prepare for a tiny, beautiful, and apparently violent cadou-mutant woman to begin living in his reservoir with him, once again, Salvatore still had no idea.

Grimacing in frustration, the hooded man wracked his brain for something to do, some way for him to make a good “first” impression with his new gift when she finally arrives. Something that would catch her fancy and hopefully convince her that, despite his terrifying appearance, he wouldn’t harm her and merely wanted to be friends.

Well… technically speaking Salvatore wanted a great deal more than just friendship from the young woman, however given how low his chances are of ever achieving the former, the mutant man decided that he’d happily squash his vile and disgusting desires down deep within himself if it meant he’d gain at least something similar to a friendship with Nadine.

He’d been doing the same with Mother for all these years, so it wasn’t like it was going to be difficult… hopefully.

Upon returning to his reservoir finally, Salvatore retreated from the harsh weather, deciding that he’d likely have a much easier time cleaning if he waited the snowstorm out and got started in the morning, instead. Once the skies had cleared and the sun had just begun to peak over the mountaintop horizon however, Salvatore immediately set to work cleaning up the areas surrounding the reservoir.

It wasn’t until after several hours of diligent gathering and disposing of the numerous unsightly piles of rotting wood and garbage lying around, that the unusually bright and hopeful atmosphere surrounding the reservoir was rudely disrupted by a surprise visitor Salvatore would have never seen coming in a million years.

“HEY, FISHFACE, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? I gotta talk to you about something, so hurry up and crawl out of your sewer system so we can get this over with, already” Karl’s rough and booming voice echoed out from somewhere within the reservoir.

Salvatore flinches in fearful surprise at the demanding voice, wondering what on earth could possibly have brought Karl, the notorious recluse of the family who never left his factory unless bribed or threatened, all the way out here to the reservoir. And to speak to HIM, on top of all that too.

Despite not feeling like subjecting himself to Karl’s recent tendency toward physical abuse disguised as “brotherly affection”, Salvatore sighs and swims his way toward his younger brother’s voice anyways, knowing that ignoring Karl would only prompt the younger man to actually enter the reservoir in search of him, which was the absolute last thing Salvatore needed right now.

“Mornin’, brother! It’s about fuckin’ time you answered the door. You were taking so long I was beginning to wonder if you’d finally decided to run away and live out the rest of your life as an actual fish, like I suggested to you at the last “family” meeting” Karl says bluntly, clad his characteristic attire of green sunglasses, a brown hat atop his head, a long tan trench coat covering his day clothes, various items strung around his neck, and large titanium hammer.

“H-hello, Karl... W-why is it th-that you’re h-here for?” Salvatore asks slowly, peering at the younger, but taller man from behind the only partially opened gate.

“Hey, hey, come on now, Sal, what’s with the cold welcome? Am I not allowed to visit my favorite older brother without a specific rhyme or reason. I think you’ll be surprised to know that I was actually already in the area, and wanted to stop by and see if you were in the mood for a chat. You know, like old times?” Karl says defensively, placing both his hands up as Salvatore narrows his eyes at the younger man.

Salvatore was a lot of things, but stupid most certainly wasn’t one of them, regardless of what other people thought. While it might be true that, when Karl was first introduced to the family as a child following his successful cadou mutation, they had something of a positive older-younger brother relationship that lasted a good many years into Karl’s adulthood, that relationship has been growing progressively shakier and unstable over the past few years, at least it has during the times Karl has acted like Salvatore wasn’t the only one to reach out and attempt to connect with the emotionally volatile, but secretly terrified young boy, when he first arrived.

Deep down, Salvatore still had something of a soft spot for Karl, a soft spot that he occasionally allowed himself to indulge in whenever Karl wasn’t acting like a royal asshole, but those moments of peace and solidarity between oldest and youngest brother had been few and far in between recently. Not to mention that Salvatore would be lying if he said he wasn’t growing increasingly more suspicious and distrustful of Karl and whatever secrets the younger man was hiding in that factory of his. He hadn’t the slightest idea what he could be up to, but something told Salvatore that Karl had more reason to be here than just pure coincidence.

“P-perhaps… what i-is it that you w-want to t-talk about?” Salvatore replies curtly, not wanting to just go along with whatever Karl wanted, but for some reason still willing to give the younger man a chance to prove himself.

Taking a brief moment to look over both his shoulders, Karl places the heavy end of his hammer on the ground and leans inward toward Salvatore, lowering his voice as he whispers, “You see your gift from Mother yet?”

This question took Salvatore by surprise, not expecting the gifts Mother Miranda had given them to be the reason why Karl was here.

“I… I h-have… why?” The disfigured man asks curiously, pushing the gate open a little further so that Karl, despite Salvatore’s earlier reservations toward the younger man, could squeeze his way inside.

Upon entering through the gate, Karl immediately takes 2 cigars out of his back pocket and lights the first one. “Curiosity mostly… but also cuz I think there’s more to this whole “gift” thing than Miranda wants us to believe,” the bespeckled man says, blowing a lungful of smoke out his nose as he offers Salvatore the second cigar. “You still smoke, old man?”

“I-I… I r-really shouldn’t” Salvatore says, turning his back toward Karl’s outstretched hand, even as the wonderfully woody scent fills his nose and his mouth begins to water.

“Oooooh, but something tells me you want to” Karl teases, sauntering over to the older man so that he could wave the fresh cigar in Salvatore’s face, chuckling in amusement when the fish mutant’s gaze locked onto and followed the unlit stick like a dog would a slab of meat.

“B-but it… M-Mother has s-said… m-many times… th-that she d-doesn’t like… doesn’t like when we s-smoke… because… uh, b-because...” Salvatore trails off, trying to remain strong for Mother Miranda, even as his self-control slowly continues to crack.

“Come on, lighten up a little bit, old man. It’s just one cigar. You smoked a pack of these things a day, like they were the only things keeping you going, both throughout my whole adolescence and, if what Duke says is to be trusted which we both know it is, well after I left for my factory, too. When the hell did you start being such a stick in the mud? No wonder I stopped hanging out with you, you’re like a fuckin’ parrot that repeats everything than goddamn woman says, it’s like I can’t escape her no matter where I fuckin’ go” Karl groans in a slightly childish tone of voice as he trudges forward to sit on one of the docks overlooking the calm water below.

Salvatore slowly moves to join him as he says, “S-she’s right th-though… it r-really isn’t good… f-for you… I smoked e-everyday for m-many years... an-and now I’m p-paying for my i-ignorance… Mother o-only nags at you… b-because she c-cares… and s-she’s always r-right… in the e-end...”

“Oh, fuck what Miranda says, I’m tired of that woman. Always telling us what to do and then thinking that pushing a couple of failed experiments onto us as “gifts” will make up for the fact that she’s disappearing off the face of the planet without a single trace and not telling us when she’ll be back. As far as I’m concerned, when Miranda’s not here, she’s not the boss of me. And the same goes for you, too” Karl says, roughly punching Salvatore in the shoulder.

“I-I don’t… I don’t think th-that’s how this w-works, Karl” Salvatore counters. “Even w-with Mother l-leaving us… f-for a t-time... we still h-have to make s-sure that th-things c-continue on… continue on as p-planned… or e-else we’ll really b-be in trouble… w-when she g-gets back.”

“Maybe,” Karl says thoughtfully, before taking another drag of his cigar. “I don’t know… I just have a sinking feeling that there’s something weird going on behind the scenes and these “gifts”, that she’s giving us, are nothing more than distractions to keep us entertained while she goes and does… whatever the fuck it is she plans on doing while she’s gone.”

Salvatore pauses for a moment, briefly remembering back to when Mother first told him that she’d be leaving the village to go “visit someone”, who she believed could be very important to their mission of reviving Mother’s long lost baby, Eva. Although he hadn’t thought very much of it at the time, the mutant man also remembers Mother saying something about how well Nadine would do at “keeping him occupied” until she finally returned, and maybe even after that, too. But why would Mother Miranda want or need him to be “occupied” when she got back? Wouldn’t she want to share her findings with him so they could work toward creating a vessel to revive Eva in? Wouldn’t she want to see and speak to him again after being away for so long?

Or maybe… could… could Karl actually be onto something here? Salvatore felt terrible doubting Mother Miranda, but he’d be lying if he said that Karl didn’t have a point about Mother’s behavior seeming odd, now that he was in the proper headspace to go back and analyze the memory properly, at least.

“B-but… if Mother h-has gone o-out of her w-way… to make sure that w-we won’t be l-lonely... w-while she’s away… isn’t th-that a… a good th-thing… doesn’t that m-mean she c-cares a-bout us... enough to… e-enough to do something l-like this?” Salvatore asks nervously, watching the younger man intently as he contemplates his response.

“I guess so, at least when you word it like that, it does. But something tells me there’s more to this than she’s led us to believe. She’s got something planned, and she’s definitely after something, and once she gets her hands on it, who the hell knows what’ll happen… whatever it is though, I doubt it’ll be very good, for any of us.”

“D-don’t say th-things l-like that… I-I’m sure M-Mother has a-a reason… a reason w-why she’s leaving… an-and if she d-doesn’t tell us w-what it is… b-before she leaves… th-then Im sure… I’m sure sh-she’ll tell u-us when she g-gets back… she’ll l-let us in o-on her p-plan… wh-when she’s ready… an-and then… once e-everything is… said a-and done… we c-can revive… r-revive Eva… and b-be a real f-family… a-at long l-last… isn’t th-that what w-we a-all want, after a-all… a f-family?” Salvatore asks, hoping this was doing something to ease the younger man’s clearly agitated mind.

What on earth it was that was causing so much turmoil as it flew around inside Karl’s head, Salvatore had no idea. But something about the bespectacled man’s unusually contemplative and concerned mood, coupled with the fact that he’d only punched Salvatore once since his arrival, was beginning to leave an acidic taste in the deformed man’s mouth.

Karl really and truly thought something was wrong, and the younger man’s continued insistence upon this fact was beginning to make Salvatore very very anxious.

Perhaps it was the unusually good and excited mood that Salvatore was in due to the near arrival of his gift, or maybe it was that soft spot for Karl I mentioned earlier, but regardless of the reason, Salvatore felt the odd need to help alleviate the younger man’s bad mood, just like he used to do for him back when Karl was still barely taller than his shoulder.

Mother Miranda certainly wouldn’t be pleased if she found out that Salvatore had broken his mandatory sobriety despite her explicit orders to avoid smoking so his experiment results wouldn't be hindered. That being said however, Miranda always seemed to want her 4 children to get along and be close, like real siblings, so Salvatore supposed that he could allow himself a break from his smoking break so long as, if Miranda did manage to find out somehow, he could get himself out of trouble by spinning it as a rare moment of sibling bonding between the oldest and youngest siblings, rather than the reality of the situation.

“I… I’ll t-take that cigar… if you’re n-not gonna smoke it… th-that is” Salvatore says, a small chuckle escaping him when Karl cheers in delight, practically throwing both the lighter and the cigar into the deformed man’s hands.

Salvatore’s first breath of the cigar is nothing short of heavenly once he finally lights it and takes a drag, and its moments like these when the mutant man finds himself secretly grateful that Karl hasn’t listened to a goddamn word Mother Miranda has said in nearly 4 decades.

A long period of silence passes as both brothers merely sit beside one another and secretly enjoy each other’s company.

“Miranda let me pick my gift first, so I didn’t get to see where the others went. Who did you end up with?” Karl asks, finally breaking the silence.

“T-the… the sh-short one,” Salvatore replies, “with b-blue skin, black h-hair, a-and, uh… oh, an-and white d-dots… all o-over her… l-like freckles… fins t-too”

“Oh ya, I remember that one. Gorgeous little thing, she was” Karl says, nodding his head in appreciation as a devilish smile spreads across his unshaven lips. “With quite the… voluptuous figure too, if I remember correctly.”

“I… well… I-I don’t know i-if… I d-didn’t... shut up...” Salvatore mumbles under his breath, taking a long drag from his cigar as Karl throws his head back laughing like a hyena at his older brother’s sudden bashfulness.

“Ah, come on, Sal, don’t be such a downer all the fuckin’ time, I’m just teasing. I know you still think about shit like that, too, even if you’ve managed to convince Alcina and everybody else that you’re just an innocent little follower who hasn’t had an independent, or dirty thought of his own since the cadou took hold. You used to be a fuckin’ doctor for crying out loud, and you’re still annoyingly the person Miranda goes to first whenever she has a new experiment in mind, cuz you’re smart AND she can trust you. You might look like you fell off the truck that was taking you and your fishy friends to market, but I’ve known you too long for that bullshit act of yours to work on me.”

“Act?” Salvatore asks, genuinely confused by what Karl means.

“You know, that stupid fuckin’ “moronic freak” act you do whenever Miranda’s around. The one where you act like you don’t know what the fuck is going on or what something is so that she’ll take pity on how stupid and childish you’re acting and give you more attention. It’s pathetic to watch and I’m gettin’ sick of seeing you do it all the time. Knock it off, you’re better than that.”

“I’ll… um… b-be sure not to… to m-make it s-seem as… uh… I’ll k-keep that in m-mind” Salvatore finally says, casting his gaze down to his pants for a moment, unsure how to feel about how… friendly and kind Karl was being all of a sudden. Salvatore knew Karl secretly cared about him, the brat does far too many conveniently nice things for him throughout the year for him not to, but hearing the younger man voice his surprisingly high opinion of him was definitely shocking, though still quite touching, all the while.

“W-which gift… d-did you end u-up… getting, Karl? I d-didn’t get t-the chance to… to s-see the others… M-Mother only showed me Nadi-er… my g-gift” Salvatore asks, deciding, at the last second, against using his gift’s real name lest Karl be given even more artillery to tease and riddle him with.

“Eh, just some tall dark haired broad. I think Miranda said something about her being Indian, or something along those lines.”

“O-oh… d-did Mother say a-anything about… whether she’s actually f-from here… o-or did she immigrate… f-from India?” Salvatore asks, tilting his head curiously as this new information about Karl’s gift piques his interest.

Karl stares at Salvatore with a look of confusion for a moment, his mouth opening and closing silently like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words for it. Until, “Aren’t Indians from America?”

The sound of Salvatore’s right palm making firm and painful contact with the back of Karl’s head echoes across the reservoir almost as loudly as the following cry of pain from the man himself.

“OW! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?” Karl roars angrily, pushing himself to his feet while he rubs at the back of his head, hat lopsided and barely hanging on to his head and green glasses no longer perched upon his nose, likely sinking to the murky lake floor just below the docks they were sitting on.

“I d-didn’t spend… th-the better part o-of 15 years… p-pounding an education... i-into y-your th-thick head... for you t-to say… f-for you to b-be spouting dumb shit… l-like that” Salvatore growls in annoyance, eying the taller man with a look that even he wouldn’t dare argue against, at least not with Sal he wouldn’t.

It’s moments like these when Salvatore is very happy that Karl, for as strong and fearless as he is now as a fully grown adult, is still just a little bit afraid of him after all these years. Not because of anything bad or horrifically traumatic of course, especially considering how often Salvatore had gone out of his way to ensure Karl had the least traumatic upbringing he could possibly provide the young boy, given both their situations. As much as he hated to admit it, even Karl would agree that Salvatore had done a pretty decent job of not fucking him up anymore than he already was, which the younger man would secretly always be thankful for. However, even a person as naively patient and serving toward others as Salvatore had his breaking point, and all it took was one especially bad day, resulting in the one and only time Salvatore has ever left a mark upon the younger man’s skin, for Karl to realize that Salvatore was the last person in this godforsaken village he wanted to purposefully make an enemy out of.

Thankfully, their relationship never suffered negatively from that one-off event, but it did force the two to come to a mostly unspoken agreement that has remained present and active, if slightly ignored at certain times, from that point forward. Agreement or not however, Salvatore could never bring himself to harm Karl like that again, even if he wanted to, which was probably the main reason why Karl was still the most comfortable around him, even after all these years. It was a secret they shared between them, and them alone, and it would be one that he would cherish for the rest of his life, as Karl would secretly cherish the kindness and brotherly love Salvatore had treated him with for all these years. They were brothers, regardless of whether they got along or not, and nothing in the would world would be able to change that.

That being said however, Karl was about to be in for a very rude awakening if he thought he could just do and say whatever the hell he wanted around Salvatore without there being any consequences.

“‘A-aren’t Indians f-from A-America?’ G-good grief... I o-oughta throttle y-you for th-that one” Salvatore grumbles through another drag of his cigar, shaking his head in utter disbelief and disappointment. Karl was so intelligent, and yet he could be so stupid sometimes that it physically hurt Salvatore to think about.

“But there ARE Indians in America, aren’t there? I know I’m not wrong here” Karl defends aggressively, his anger quickly giving way to embarrassment when Salvatore raises his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration and annoyance.

“Th-they’re called N-Native Americans... f-first of all... they w-were only c-called I-Indians... b-because the g-guy... the moron who f-first sailed t-to the A-Americas... w-was actually... looking for I-India... the r-real India... b-but back th-then... you h-had to go all th-the way... a-around Africa... to g-get there... but he th-thought h-he could do... d-do it a d-different w-way... he thought h-he could f-find India... by s-sailing straight f-from S-Spain... and g-going around the whole w-world... until h-he came b-back around... an-and hit Asia” Salvatore explained slowly, hoping to maintain his delusion that Karl had, in fact, paid attention to at least some of the lessons he gave the boy throughout their time together, even if it wasn’t actually true.

“But he didn’t. He hit the Americas and started calling the locals Indians cuz the guy, what’s-his-face... Columbine... Columbus... whatever, was dumb enough to think he was in India and not a totally different landmass” Karl finishes, looking like he at least remembered hearing about his information before, which was good enough for Salvatore.

Despite the grimace still etched onto his face, Karl groans in annoyed defeat and slinks back down to sit next to Salvatore, still cradling the back of his head.

“Anyways, as i was saying before I was so rudely interrupted with a goddamn history lesson-”

“You w-want another s-smack?” Salvatore threatens, mildly amused when Karl pauses his dramatic retelling, before sliding just a few inches to the right, away from Salvatore’s preferred disciplining hand.

Coughing slightly, Karl continues. “Anyways… going back to my “finding the silver lining” idea, or whatever the fuck its called. This whole “gift” thing might actually work out kinda nice for me in the long run, especially since the one I got looked like she was strong and could handle herself in a rough and tumble environment. If she proves herself, I’m planning on turning her into my assistant” Karl explains casually. “As much as I hate working with other people, normally, I’ve got some projects that would really benefit from a second pair of hands, so I’m attempting to make a “silver lining” moment out of this bullshit “gift” thing Miranda’s tryin to do and just hope and pray that things work out in my favor. Though, to be fair, if things with this girl don’t go well, I could always use her body for a cool idea I’ve had cooked up for a while now. What about you? What are you planning on doing with your new little toy once it finally arrives?”

Salvatore merely shrugs his shoulders. “It w-would be nice… i-if we c-could be f-friends… somehow… but…”

“Ya… you’re not exactly working with the latest and greatest set up, huh? Even a mutant girl might need a little bit to get adjusted to a face like that” Karl says.

“That’s c-certainly one way o-of p-putting it” Salvatore replies dejectedly.

Karl flinches slightly, which surprises Salvatore, since the younger man has a habit of caring very little for how his words affect those around him. Why on earth was he being so considerate, all of a sudden?

“Look, uh… what I meant to say was that… ok, so maybe you’re not like, the best looking guy ever, but like…” Karl stammers and stutters, trying desperately to figure out what he wants to say but seemingly coming up short every time.

Salvatore narrows his eyes again, suspicion returning. “You’re h-hiding something f-from me… w-what are you a-after, Karl?” Salvatore asks seriously, fixing the younger man with a stern look that he knows Karl recognizes.

“Hey, don’t you give me that fuckin’ look. I am too fuckin’ old for you to be looking at me like that, what am I, 12?” Karl asks.

“You c-certainly act l-like it… most of th-the time” Salvatore grumbles under his breath.

Karl clearly heard him, but knew better than to argue with the water not even a foot below where the two were currently sitting, his sunglasses having already taken a nice little dive as punishment for his big mouth. Salvatore might have only agreed to speak with Karl because the latter had demanded it, but they were still very much in Salvatore’s territory, and it wasn’t even a question of who had the topographical advantage should an “argument” actually break out between them.

Karl is strong, nobody can deny that. But Salvatore has the home advantage, and they both know it.

After a moment of tense staring, Karl finally breaks first, sighing heavily before tossing his finished cigar cap into the water below them, a crime Salvatore briefly contemplates knocking the younger man in for, before deciding against it, knowing, with his luck, that it would only come back to bite him in the ass later.

“Alright look,” Karl finally says, a look of frustrated determination on his face, “I don’t know what Miranda really has planned past her whole “get a suitable vessel for Eva” obsession, or what she’s really after on this mission of hers… but something about this whole situation going on recently just doesn’t feel right to me, and I think we need to do something about it before something bad happens and we all somehow end up dead. Now, I'm not 100% sure why I’m talking about this with the head of Miranda’s fuckin’ fanclub, but considering what my other 2 options were it wasn’t like I had much of a damn choice. My only saving grace right now is the fact that you’ll at least occasionally listen to fuckin’ reason, given your gaping maw can be yanked from Miranda’s tit long enough to hear me out, that is. It’s certainly better than my chances with Lady Super-sized Bitch and Crazy Psycho Doll, over there.”

“Are you s-sure you’re n-not just being p-paranoid?” Salvatore asks slowly, not wanting to offend Karl by outright stating he didn’t believe the younger man’s hunch, but also trying to figure out if Karl actually has something to be concerned about, or if he’s just looking for an excuse to badmouth Miranda.

“No, no no no, don’t you do this to me too, Sal” Karl begs in frustration. “You can go about the rest of your life loving the absolute shit out of that crazy woman if you want to and I won’t say a goddamn thing about it, but I need you to promise me, and I mean promise me, that if you see or hear something weird regarding Miranda and this little “trip” she’s about to go on, you come tell me so that we can at least make sure our own asses are covered when shit hits the fan.”

“Well… I-I uh…”

“Come on, Sal. None of these psychotic assholes have ever had my back like you, and that’s exactly the reason why I’m telling you all this” Karl says honestly, catching Salvatore off guard with the oddly familiar wording.

“I know I can be a royal fucking pain in the ass most of the time and that I’m not always the… nicest to you… even though you did kinda do... a bit for me here and there when I was a little tyke... But none of that matters now, because even if Miranda isn’t trying to hide something from us, with the two of us banded together, we could do whatever the hell we wanted while she’s gone, and neither of the other shitheads would be able to tell us otherwise. What do you say, Sal? Come on, you and me, together, just like when I was a kid, remember?” Karl asked excitedly, his eyes shimmering in boyish glee as he spouts off all the things they’d be able to get away with when Miranda finally left, the torment they’d be able to unleash upon Alcina being a particular favorite of Karl’s, it would seem.

Salvatore remained silent for a moment, contemplating the deal he’d just been given.

It’s… not a terrible deal, at least compared to some of the previous deals Salvatore has been offered in the past. It wasn’t like him agreeing to “ally” himself with Karl was a direct declaration of war against Mother Miranda or anything like that, merely a mutual effort that would guarantee safety for both him and Karl should Mother’s plan not go exactly as she wanted, which scientific experiments were known to do. Not to mention that giving Alcina a good messing with did sound like quite a bit of fun.

Maybe… maybe Karl was right. Maybe Salvatore was being a bit too much of a stick in the mud. It was just Karl after all, who Salvatore had practically raised, starting from the boy’s arrival into the family at 6 years old and more or less up until his factory was completed just after his 22nd birthday. Karl could certainly be a handful for even the most powerful individuals, but even on his worst days, he always found some backwards, convoluted way to apologize for his behavior.

“W-well… I-I’m not s-sure… I d-don’t know how I f-feel about… about d-doing things th-that Mother… wouldn’t a-approve of… just b-because sh-she’s gone...”

“But...” Karl continued for him.

“B-but I suppose… k-keeping each other u-updated… when we f-find… or h-hear s-something weird is… wouldn’t be… wouldn’t be th-the worst idea… in th-the world… e-even if it just t-turns out that… we w-were just being p-paranoid.”

“Excellent! That’s just what I was hoping to hear” Karl says triumphantly, standing up.

“A-are you l-leaving, already?”

“Ya” Karl affirms, “I’ve got work to do at the factory, and based on the look of things here, you were busy with a project of your own it looks like.”

Salvatore nods, pocketing his freshly finished cigar cap for later, proper, disposal. “I c-can’t even remember… the l-last time I… p-properly cleaned this p-place… it l-looks so m-much nicer… even w-without being f-fully finished…”

“Good for you. My own property could probably do with a good cleaning of its own now that you mention it. If nothing else though, I’m sure your new little lady friend will appreciate that you picked up the place for her arrival.”

“Y-you think s-so?” Salvatore asks.

Karl shrugs his shoulders. “Who knows with chicks, they’re unpredictable, but I suppose it’s possible. Then again, maybe not considering who you ended up with. I don’t know the full story or anything like that, but based on what I heard from Miranda, that blue bitch you went with was the craziest one of them all. Practically tore her pod apart the first time Miranda tried to put her in it, and caused all sorts of other damage throughout her mutation phase too, not that I blame the poor girl. I’d tear that whole lab right out from under the surface and set it ablaze if I could. Going back down there after so many years… I was puking like you for the rest of the fuckin’ day when I finally got out of that hellhole. Stomach still feels a little nauseous if I’m being honest...”

“I-I’m sorry… to h-hear that” Salvatore says, though Karl is quick to brush him off.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. I’m a big boy and I can handle myself. But do we have a deal? Keep each other in the loop whenever we hear anything… strange or abnormal about Mother Miranda or her special little mission?”

Salvatore pauses for a moment, thinking one last time about whether this was a good idea, before finally shrugging his shoulders and nodding. “Y-yes, we h-have a deal… b-but just remember something, Karl… 40 years d-didnt do… nearly as m-much for your p-poker face as i-it did for your s-smart mouth. If I c-catch you lying to m-me-”

“Ya, ya, ya, you’ll chop up my body and toss my remains in the lake to feed the fishes, I’ve heard that one a million times before” Karl interrupts. “Don’t worry, Sal, if I was planning on lying to you at any point throughout this process, you’d have already caught me by now. Even I know better than to try pulling a fast one over the walking fuckin’ lie detector.”

“I’m h-holding you to th-that, Karl” Salvatore calls over his shoulder as the younger man stands and begins heading toward the gate to return to his factory, chuckling lightly when Karl returns his warning with a middle finger.

“Take it easy, old man. And let me know how that crazy fish bitch you ended up with turns out. If all else fails I’ll turn her into a nice stuffed pillow for you” the bespeckled man says, throwing his head back in laughter as though he’d told a funny joke, before adding, “And I’d better get my sunglasses back within the week, or else I’m draining the whole fucking reservoir so I can find them myself. Don’t think I won’t do it, old man.”

Salvatore merely returns the middle finger, a response that Karl seems to appreciate, if the wolfish howl of laughter the younger man let's out says anything, at least.

‘Cheeky brat. Always plotting something’ Salvatore thinks fondly to himself as he slips back into the water to continue cleaning the reservoir, quickly grabbing the green sunglasses that had sunk to the bottom and pocketing them to return to Karl later. He pauses for a moment when a thought crosses his mind.

Within the past 24 hours, both Mother Miranda and Karl had been… unusually kind and affectionate toward Salvatore, which pleased but also confused the twisted man.

Karl was easy enough to explain away, the younger man has been flip flopping between periods where he likes and spends time with Salvatore, and periods where he’d sooner set himself on fire than be in the same room as his older brother, since the day they met, so as far as Salvatore was concerned, Karl’s behavior was hardly breaking news, though perhaps a bit surprising given everything going on with Mother’s gifts. Mother Miranda, however, was a different story.

Usually more distant and hands-off in her parenting ways, Miranda had been uncharacteristically affectionate toward the disfigured man the night before, going as far as to openly praise Salvatore for all his hard work and even hold him without being asked to. It had been such a wonderful experience at the time and yet, the more Salvatore thought about it, the stranger and stranger the behavior seemed, especially now that Karl had confronted him.

Speaking of Karl… Mother seemed quite upset with him when she spoke of him the night before. Going as far as to badmouth him specifically, calling him a ‘conniving little snake’, despite the younger man usually being her favorite by a country mile. Had Karl done something to incur Mother’s wrath? Is that why Karl came all the way over here to make that deal with him? Is he trying to rally the 4 lords to rebel against Mother Miranda?

No... No, no no no, that couldn’t be true, there’s no way.

Even Karl, for all his incredible intellect and hunger for power, was too afraid of Mother Miranda to ever try anything as drastic as that. That being said however, even though Salvatore doubted that Karl would ever try to rebel against Mother Miranda, it did seem like the younger man was trying very hard to get Salvatore onto his side for some reason. In fact, both Karl AND Mother Miranda appeared to be trying to sway the eldest Lord in their favor, though for what reason, he still had no idea.

It was definitely something that made Salvatore slightly wary of the both of them, though.

There’s nothing in this world that Salvatore hates more than doubting his beloved Mother, but even he couldn’t write this oddity of a situation off as a mere one-off incident or sudden change of Miranda’s tune. Mother has been acting very strangely recently, doing things she wouldn’t normally do and acting overly affectionate as if to try and throw everyone off her tracks, and the longer Salvatore thought about it, the more he couldn’t help but wonder, as painful as it was to admit, if maybe Karl was actually onto something.

Logically, he knows that Karl is just being Karl, looking to stir up some trouble for his own, and supposedly Salvatore’s, amusement, and that Mother Miranda is likely just trying to enjoy the time she has left with her children before she leaves on her mission. However, something in the back of Salvatore’s mind can’t help but wonder if maybe there’s more going on than he’s been led to believe by either of them. And as if this situation couldn’t get any more confusing for the deformed man, now his overly anxious and analytical mind was beginning to understand what Karl meant when he said there was something strange going on, no matter how much the rest of him practically screamed to just listen to Miranda like he always has.

Shaking his head of his scrambled thoughts and turning his focus back to his work, Salvatore decides that the best thing he can do right now is keep an ear to the ground on both Mother Miranda AND Karl, just to be fair. He still isn't sure if he plans on being 100% honest with Karl regarding their deal, but he supposes that maintaining a good relationship with the younger man wouldn’t hurt in the event he turned out to be right and Mother’s plan backfired on all of them.

Besides, if Karl did turn out to be right, and Salvatore was ready for if things took a bad turn, he could still be there to rescue Mother Miranda and ensure she’s brought to safety along with them. He’ll have successfully fulfilled his family duties to both Karl and Mother Miranda, without ever having to actually choose which side he was definitively on. A perfect plan if the mutant man says so himself. Now the only thing left to do between now and whenever things started getting interesting was work on the reservoir and wait for his gift to finally arrive, his mood regarding this whole situation greatly improved thanks to Karl’s visit.

Hopefully, if things went well, he’d have some exciting news to tell the younger man the next time they met up.

Maybe he’d even have a new friend to introduce.

[thebraxiatelcollection]

AU list - Accidental Marriage AU for Bernice Summerfield ( & her crew) pls?

AU List A-Z

@stillthesunkenstars and @devilfromthestars; may like this Benny/Brax ficlet ;) This was too long to do into a small prompt so kind of turned it into a small fanfic.

-

Bernice Summerfield woke up on the ground with a headache.

It wasn’t the first time she has been in this situation, no and it was not one she was proud to admit but she did not, in general, enjoy waking up on the ground. It was far from ideal circumstances and she groaned against the cold, cement floor before she opened her eyes.  

Gods, how much Draconian brandy did she drink last night? 

She winced, holding her head as she slowly sat up.  The room seemed to still be spinning and she blindly groped about her bed for her alarm clock that seemed to be ringing-or was that just the ringing noise in her head? She wasn’t quite sure but as she was groping about, instead of finding the alarm clock or the blanket, she found an ankle. An ankle that wasn’t Jason’s as she and Jason had well and truly been divorced and she was still mad at him for the Sunless situation.

She leapt to her feet in surprise, opening her eyes which did nothing to help nurse her hangover. There was a rustle on the bed and Benny managed to peak at who it was underneath the bedsheets.

Gods, please gods no-

“Ah,”  The voice drawled, showing no sign of a hangover. Of course, he wouldn’t. He was a bloody Time-Lord and they didn’t get drunk except on ginger. Bloody typical. “Gracious me.”

She cursed underneath her breath as she stumbled over her own feet and landed with an almighty crash on the floor. So much for her silent escape.

“Bernice-” Braxiatel started to say her name but it sounded too much like shouting in her ears.

“Quieter please Brax,” Benny winces, rubbing the back of her head. “Oh, my head. How much did I drink last night?”

“More than your usual amount I think,” Braxiatel comments as he sits up and oh no, he was naked from the waist up which did not help matters. “Somebody must have spiked my drink as well. My head feels fuzzy.”

“You think?” She retorts dryly as she uses the end of the bed to leverage herself up and sunk down on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to steady herself. “We’re going to suffer today.”  When was the last time she got serious hungover like this? It must have been back in her university days on Dellah at the very least.

“Go back to sleep,” Braxiatel turned back on his side, making room for herself. “Unless you prefer to sleep on the floor.”

“But-what are we even doing here Brax?” Benny protested, but she had to admit, she was still knackered. Her body felt sore and tired and her head-gods! It wouldn’t stop ringing.

“Never mind about that. It’s 6am in the morning.” He mumbled.

“Fair point,” She agrees and she reached down and managed to snag the covers, pulling the sheet and duvet over both of them as she got back into bed. “We’ll deal with this later.”

“Of course, Bernice.”

She pulled the covers over her head, closing her eyes shut tight and prayed that when she next woke up, this was all some kind of horrible nightmare.

-

Benny woke up for the second time that day and it was almost four in the afternoon and was grateful to find she did not end up on the floor again which was a nice but instead of finding her cheek against the cold floor, her cheek was pressed against a very warm torso, hearing two double heart beats in her ear. In fact, it seemed to be all her limbs had become entangled with Braxiatel’s other limbs. 

She blinked a few times, trying to adjust to what she was seeing in the darkness of Braxiatel’s bedroom.

Wait.

Braxiatel’s bedroom?

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. 

Oh no. 

Thankfully, Braxiatel was still asleep on his side, almost looking peaceful as memories started to drift through her mind from yesterday. She wanted to throttle Braxiatel for being more responsible about this but she couldn’t blame him when this was her fault just as much as his and, truthfully,  she felt rather cosy and warm here, not wishing to move any time soon.

Braxiatel looked rather handsome in his sleep, almost well rested. It was unusual for Bernice to see Braxiatel with his guard down, especially after the Veronica incident. She moved to brush a hand through his salt and pepper coloured hair when she caught side on her hand, noticing a very recent addition of jewellery there.

There was a wedding ring on her hand. A very expensive, shiny and delicate looking ring.

“Oh bugger,” She groaned and she cautiously peeked at Braxiatel’s and sure enough, there was a ring on his hand that hadn’t been there before, matching hers.

As though Braxiatel could sense her staring at him, Braxiatel flickered his eyes open. “Bernice?” He asks, dumbfounded. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” She half-joked,  not knowing how to bring their situation.

“You’re in my bedroom. In my bed.”

“Right...”

Braxiatel looked at her suspiciously, sensing her staring at their hands and he glanced down, seeing their wedding rings. “Ah.”

“Ah indeed.” Benny licked her lips. “Surprise may be my middle name but I didn’t expect this kind of surprise.”

“Do you remember what happened last night?”

Benny began to stretch, wanting to loosen her sore limbs. “At a guess? We had that celebration Christmas ball. We got amazingly drunk on Draconian and Ginger brandy, got married somewhere and ended up in bed.” Her eyes widened and she poked his side as a memory flashed before her eyes. “You kicked me out of bed by the way.”

“How rude of me.” Braxiatel frowns, lines creasing his forehead. “I must have drunk an awful lot of ginger. That’s terribly unlike me and I don’t usually sleep for such long periods either.”

“Lucky you. Wait, really? That explains why  I never see the Doctor sleep.”

“Really. Time-Lord’s rarely have the need for it. Sometimes, they have power naps lasting for 30 minutes every couple of years but otherwise, we rarely let our guard down.” He manages to sit up, but thankfully, kept the bedsheet above his waistline. 

“Where did we get married?” Benny manages to ask, her mind still foggy. 

Braxiatel didn’t pause, staring at their rings as he took her hand in his. The wedding rings were antique and proper, that she could tell. Even when they were drunk, Braxiatel still had a taste. 

“Space Vegas,” He replies. “In one of their elope churches.”

“Tasteful.” She says, trying to tell herself that this was okay. Everything was going to be fine. This didn’t change their friendship. They could just go about to their daily business and ignore the fact they got married whilst drunk at some space vegas wedding venue. 

“This will be interesting to explain to Bev and the others,” Braxiatel mused, running a hand through his hair, trying to straighten it out. “Especially to Jason.”

“Yes, thank you for that reminder,” She groans. “Brax, tell me the truth. You have a better memory than me. What happened last night?”

Brax pauses, thinking. “You and I left the party after taking up a few bottles of Draconian and ginger brandy to my office. Then I woke up to find you on the floor of my bedroom.”

“This is all your fault.”

“Bernice!” Braxiatel says, exasperated. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I know just as little as you do which is frightening.”

Just then, his datapad ping and he reached over, finding it was from Bev Tarrant, his P.A. “Oh no.”

“What...?” Benny asks cautiously and she sits next to him, looking at the screen. On the screen, their wedding announcement had been made publically on their local news station and everyone was sending in their congratulations.  “Oh no. Wait, is that Bev sending you an  eggplant emoji next to a wedding ring?”

She could have sworn Braxiatel’s cheeks turned bright red as he hid the datapad. They both knew now they couldn’t hide their marriage. It was all out in the open and everyone knew. 

“First thing first, we need to find that marriage certificate,” Benny says, climbing out of bed. “And find out what happened last night so we can fill in the gaps.”

“Quite,” Braxiatel agrees, getting out after her, grabbing his robe. “We’ll have to search the place.”

“You don’t remember where you put it?” Benny asked in disbelief. Blimey, he must have drunken a lot if he couldn’t remember where he put an important document. That was very unlike Braxiatel. 

“Who says I had it? You could have had it,” He pipes up, heading to the bathroom.

That was true. Anyone of them could have the document and she put on the spare robe and began to search through his bedroom. And this was before she’s had any coffee. 

“Check my pockets,” Braxiatel suggests, poking his head around the door, the bathroom running hot water. “That’s where I usually keep items. Besides, if we got drunk and married at the same time, having a marriage certificate and putting it in my pockets would make sense.” He disappears back in the bathroom.

“Right, of course.” Benny rolls her eyes fondly and she began to rummage. She could do with another drink but it was four in the afternoon and she needed a desperate cup of coffee. She finally found the document just after Braxiatel came out of the shower, smartly washed and dressed as though nothing had ever happened, still wearing his ring. “Found it.”

“Good.” He nods, taking the certificate. “I’ll give you a copy.”

“Brax...” She licks her lips nervously. “This won’t change anything, will it?”

“It shouldn’t do. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m a human and you’re a Time-Lord.  Isn’t it against the law or something with your people?”

“Actually, no. It’s frowned upon, I admit that but times are changing and for the better back on Gallifrey. A slow, long road it is but whatever happens Bernice,” He meets her eyes, gently tilting her chin to look at him. “You are under my protection.”

“I don’t need protecting,” She says, but she was grateful for his support if it should come to that. “But thank you.” She chuckles. “You know, a Time-Lord and a human archaeologist, we make an odd pair, don’t we?”

“It’s almost as if it was meant to be,” Brax sang cheerily and presses the room service button, ordering coffee and some light lunch for the both of them. 

“At least I’m not a plant this time. But if I want to make it clear Brax.” She crosses her arms. “I don’t want to be added as part of your collection like you did with Veronica. I’m me. Your...best friend, now you’re wife. Not some rare artefact to keep in your personal collection for only you to see. Got that?”

Braxiatel nodded. “Oh Bernice,” He gives a soft smile. “You are so much more than either of those things.” He offers her his hand with the wedding ring. “Are you willing to give us a go?”

She couldn’t help but smile back. “That I am.” Sje says to both of those things and takes his hand.

A new beginning was about to start.

[pattson]

The Fifth Life Lived: Chapter V - The Poison

The hardest part of this entire thing was getting the job in the first place. Sure, he was a better chef than personal assistant, but once he pointed out that Roman didn’t like his cooking it wasn’t that hard. Thomas took that as a personal insult apparently, asking he be removed from the job at once. Virgil was able to talk his way out of being fired completely, saying he already knew the building too well and knew too many secrets. He told Thomas he’d spill them all to a rivaling kingdom if he couldn’t stay at the castle. Thomas had made some sarcastic remark, but hey. Virgil was still here.

So, that left the second hardest part: getting Roman to trust him.

Virgil rapped on the door to Roman’s bedroom. His first task as manservant? Deliver the Prince his breakfast. Because apparently, Mr. Status over here was incapable of walking all the way downstairs to get it for himself.

“Open,” Roman said, his voice almost monotone. Once again Virgil had to suppress the scowl falling across his face.

“Breakfast, my lord,” Virgil muttered, opening the door.

Roman was lying in bed, the covers messily pulled up to his chin and just the tip of his head showing. His eyes slowly peaked over the comforter.

“You’re not my manservant.”

“Am now. My name’s Virgil. Your, uh, highness. From this point forward, if we go down, then we go down together.” Virgil dropped the food on the table unceremoniously, a quirk in his eyebrow. He’d already introduced himself, but he doubted the royal pain in the ass remembered. Roman gave a scoff, burying himself further into the covers.

“Leave the food. I’ll come for it at my leisure. You are permitted to leave now,” Roman said, clearly not planning on getting up any time soon. Virgil crossed his arms.

“Yeah, that’s all fine and good, except for the fact that your breakfast is hot, it will grow cold, and my instructions were to deliver it to you warm, my Prince.” Virgil spat the last word with such irritation that Roman actually looked over to him, confusion on his face.

Truth be told, Virgil could care less for the spoiled Prince. But as he stood up, duvet falling from his shoulders--

Oh. He slept shirtless. Oh, that’s cool, he, wow. He must work out a lot. That’s-- wow.

“See? It’s good to know that’s what he thinks of me, especially considering how rude he is all the time now,” present day Roman interrupted.

“Did I ask?” Virgil said. Roman rolled his eyes, but Virgil went back to the story.

Roman, then-Roman, Prince Roman waltzed over to the hot breakfast of two eggs and bacon. It was weird, knowing people of his kingdom were starving and seeing the future king eat well, but. At least it wasn’t some feast of epic proportions. Virgil didn’t think he could stomach that.

“You can leave,” Roman said impatiently. Virgil rolled his eyes, walking out the way he came in. It would be harder to get this prick to like him than he thought, apparently. It seemed no small task. But damn, this was Virgil’s job, and he wasn’t about to ask questions.

Breakfast started becoming a daily thing. Virgil really had to work on looking away when Roman inevitably took off the bedsheets. But after a while, that became easy. And with every day, he was granted a little more access. He already had a way to reach the kitchen, and now he could go into the Prince’s quarters whenever he deemed it necessary. It wasn’t long before he was assigned as Roman’s sparring partner, too. That… wasn’t as fun.

“You have to learn how to dodge, idiot,” Roman said. Virgil ducked, the sword connecting to his back.

“Watch where you’re going, would you?” Virgil groaned, trying to get out from under Roman. This time the sword connected to his chestplate, knocking him backwards. “I’m not your personal punching bag.”

“Uh, in this case, you kind of are,” Roman said. Virgil heard him laugh at that one.

“Oh, haha, very funny.” Virgil was out of breath, and frankly, out of patience. How was he supposed to kill this guy. It almost felt like Roman would kill him first. Virgil heaved a sigh, falling backwards into the grass of the training facility. This was stupid.

He let his eyes fall shut, still trying to catch his breath. He thought he heard Roman say something, but he wasn’t sure. Everything was a slight blur.

When he opened his eyes again, the pale blue of the sky was sprawled out above him. He lazily looked back and forth, hoping to spot Roman somewhere. Huh. The jerkwad must’ve gone inside.

“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it.” Virgil jolted up at the sound. There Roman was, lying on the grass next to him. Huh.

“Yeah. I mean, there’s too many clouds,” Virgil said. “That’s not a good sign.

“No, no, you’re not looking at it right,” Roman said. Virgil squinted at that. What? What does this moron know? “You… okay. Clouds, right? They keep the sky up. They hold it there, so that we can watch. They also send us rain, which lets us eat,” Roman said.

“Well, it sure lets you eat,” Virgil muttered.

“What?” Roman looked over to him. Virgil’s eyes stayed trained on the sky.

“Well, I’m just saying. People in your kingdom are starving. You’re eating two eggs and bacon every morning. Sure, it’s no feast, but you can’t ignore a famine. It’s… well. It’s nothing.”

Roman looked him over, surely judging him in some way. “Hmm. You’re holding something back. Virgil, tell me, what is it you haven’t told me?”

“The people don’t want you to rule, Roman,” Virgil said. His stare moved to Roman, their eyes meeting. Grey meets brown. “You’ve been called selfish, arrogant, and a bit of a prick. Your brother… he’s the one they want. Chivalrous, self sacrificing, kind. Always thinks about his people. He’s. He’s what you’re not.”

Roman looked away at that. His eyes were up, facing the sky. The sun danced on his face, and Virgil felt an unfamiliar pull in his chest.

“He’s always been what I’m not. Try as I might, I’m no Patton Pendragon. I’m just Roman, the annoying younger brother.” With that, Roman stood, brushing the stray grass off of his clothes. “Thank you for sparring with me, Virgil. My apologies if I hurt you.”

And then he was gone.

Virgil stared up at the clouds, the ones Roman described as holding the sky. Could he really do what he planned? Could Virgil really kill this man, even if it was for the greater good? He… He didn’t know. He didn’t know.

The coronation was growing ever closer. Virgil was beginning to seriously think he couldn’t do this. Between every conversation with Roman, that tug in his chest seemed to blossom, to bloom. It became harder to talk to him, and Virgil had no idea why. It was just that…

Roman was a work of art. It wasn’t because he was royal, not at all. It was because he wasn’t. He didn’t fit in. It reminded Virgil of himself, back at the Royal Assassins, trying to figure a way out of the responsibilities of others in order to just. Live a little. And boy, did Roman live. He dragged Virgil to the far ends of the woods, to the highest points in the castle. His smile was brighter than any flame, any lantern used sneaking out in the middle of the night to see his prince. His smile was a masterpiece.

If his smile was a masterpiece, however, the entire country wanted that masterpiece destroyed, demolished, and paying for its sins. Coronation was approaching.

Roman was dressed in his royal best, reds, whites, and golds adorning his chest. Virgil was buttoning up the back of his sash as Roman stood, eyeing his own reflection in the mirror. Virgil looked up, meeting Roman’s eyes in the reflection. Not a word was spoken. Everything was about to change.

Virgil knew wholeheartedly he had one day to complete this. It was all… so much, and yet, so little at the same time. The year was 1135. Virgil was about to kill a man.

“Arthur!” A voice called. Virgil looked away from the mirror, confusion coloring his features.

“Who the devil is Arthur?” he mused, looking around Roman’s room. That’s when Prince Patton, tall and mighty, entered the room. He wore a soft blue suit, matched with a soft smile that reached his eyes.

“Roman Arthur. It’s… it’s my second name,” Roman spat, rolling his eyes. “Patton knows how much I can’t stand it.”

“It’s true, Arthie. But hey, what can I say? Today’s a special day, my little brother the king!” Patton, ever the graceful mover, swept Roman up in a huge hug. “I almost can’t believe it.”

“I know I certainly can’t believe it. I’ve come so far, and I...” Roman said. Virgil felt that blooming again in his chest. It hurt. It hurt so bad. He didn’t know why. “I still don’t think I’m ready.”

“No one’s ever ready, Roman,” Patton said. He ruffled Roman’s hair, elbowing his side. “I mean, look at me. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be the poor sap coronated today.”

“You make it sound like I’m going to my own funeral,” Roman said. Virgil gulped. Good gods, he didn’t want to do this. The vial was pressed close to his chest, as it had been the past several months. He had to wait until the last possible moment to do this, didn’t he?

Patton left the room, quipping something about having to prepare himself. Yeah, Virgil sure knew how that felt.

It was rather unexpected. Roman turned around to face him, a strange look in his eyes. He looked… soft, in a way. Fond.

“You know they won’t let me see you after this, right? A manservant is hardly needed for a King. You’ll be replaced, old friend, and there’s nothing I can do about it,” Roman said. Virgil paused, taking a deep breath. He surely wouldn’t see Roman after today, that was certain. Just. Perhaps in a different way. “I’m going to miss you.”

God, Virgil was an awful person, he couldn’t believe he was about to do this, he--

The chalice of wine sat on the table directly to Roman’s left. He had to do this, and he had to do this now. He didn’t have a choice.

“A toast, then,” Virgil said. He gestured to the wine, a small smile on his face. “To a friendship.” Roman looked up, his eyes trailing to the table. He slowly paced to the cup. A sigh escaped his lips.

“Yeah. Friendship.”

Roman took a swig from the glass.

Virgil’s stomach sank. While he knew he had to, he didn’t expect it to work, he didn’t…

It wasn’t a slow killing poison. It would take a couple minutes-- five, ten. But it had to be handled carefully, as even the slightest touch of the liquid to skin could result in death. Touch to the mouth was the most effective, of course, as is the case with all poisons, but… God, Virgil didn’t want this happening. He didn’t…

Roman turned around, looking to Virgil. “Friendship. Such a fickle word.” He took a step closer, Virgil giving him a sad smile.

“It’s really over, isn’t it.” He felt himself saying the words before he was processing them. It was like he was floating. It felt like everything was coming to an end. Roman inched closer, his feet nearly on top of Virgil’s. Virgil looked up through his fringe, seeing the King-to-be looking down at him with a saddened stare.

“Not if I can help that.”

It was a strange, sudden rush. Virgil felt the weight of lips pressed to his before he could even process it, a feeling like a tidal wave. His eyes fluttered shut, lost in the surprise and intensity of the moment.

Roman pulled away, his eyes narrowed thin. “If we go down, we go down together, right Virgil?”

Virgil’s heart was in his neck. Oh god. Roman knew. Roman knew. His plan was a failure, he killed the Prince but the Prince knew all along, and who knows who else he’d told, who knows what would happen of Virgil if he-- if he…

Oh.

Oh no.

The second Roman’s lips pressed to his, he became equally as doomed as the man in front of him.

“You knew. You knew I was planning to--”

“I’ve known for a long time, Virgil. From the way I’ve heard you speak of my brother to the way you don’t fully respond to your own first name. You’re not who you say you are, and yet…” Roman trailed off, his eyes still fond, but with a certain ice over them. “And yet. I still couldn’t help but fall for you.”

Oh. So that’s what the pull in his chest had been. Love.

Virgil leaned forward, pressing his lips to Roman’s once more. If they were going to die, well, then at least let him act on this. He pressed forward, pouring every emotion he’d felt in the last few weeks into Roman. Hatred, fear, longing, love. All blending together.

Patton knocked on the door fifteen minutes later, his white sash adorned over his chest and his sparkling silver crown on his head. He heard no response. He knocked again. “Arthur. Arthie? Arthur Pendragon, where are you?”

Finally, Patton opened the door.