#The Reluctant King

[loriendil]

Amazon Is a DUD!

Despite the fact it has been published for over a week, Amazon says my newest ebook “doesn’t meet the criteria” to have sales rank yet. Even though it has had many sales. The print book was published August 2 and has rank, but not the ebook. And they claim they cannot tell me why the ebook “doesn’t meet the criteria.” So just putting it out there that if you go to the ebook page to even…

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Ghost King Phantom answers a summons to a new dimension to find a sacrificial offering in three magic circles. One, holding Bizarro, another holding Artimus and the one in front holding Red Hood.

Phantom has no idea who these people are, but he knows the people in charge must be powerful mages or whatever. Doesn't matter. None of the mages hes ever had to face had known about his Halfa status so naturally thier wards and protections wouldn't work on him. He captures the kid with a naselly voice and his orange cat in a force field to give to Jazz later. She had been talking about wanting to study the psychology of a supernatural being for a while now so he'd help her out.

He made quick work of the other mages before turning around and facing the "sacrifices" the two in the back were still out cold but the one in front, the one in the red helm was radiating terror and rage. He was shaking even though Phantom hadn't done anything to him and had no intentions to. Danny landed outside the circle, trying to whisper something conforting as he stepped closer.

The moment he stepped into the ring however, the red runes turned into a bright green and the three circles disappeared. Danny didn't feel any different so he assumed it was nothing and he freed the captives before disappearing, none the wiser that Klarion the Witchboy had made a few translation mistakes in the slave contract and accidentally married a terrified Red Hood to Phantom, the High King of the Undead and King of the Lazarus dimension, also known as the Infinite Realms.

Danny probably learns he married that guy at some point but just kinda shrugs it off. Polygamy is legal in the realms and thier marriage doesn't change much. Sure, Danny is practically contractually obligated to save this guy if he's ever in mortal peril but Danny has no problems with that. He'd do it anyway.

So he just ignores the situation hoping it doesn't come up again.

It does.

Repeatedly.

I'm so surprised we don't have more Dead on Main ghost king marriage aus where Jason/the pit inside of him is terrified of Phantom. Let's change that

[be-queer-do-arson]

I love that scene in tkm where Wymack tells Neil he's going to make him vice captain the next year and Neil tries to politely decline (on the grounds that he'll be dead by then) and Wymack is literally like too bad bitch. This isn't a democracy and i say you're the next captain so figure it out

[nemkero]

where we go, after the war

[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 2

Part One

...I ended up writing more for that Reluctant War AU...Like. Wrote this before work and started on part 3 with plans for part 4 more.

this was supposed to just be a brain worm what happened (also thank you @catastrophic-crow for the AU name <3 <3 <3 Also, also: welcome to the cult of Ancient of the Speedforce Elle! Membership includes nonsense, shenanigans and chaos haha)

-

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts.

Every corner haunted by death and tragedy.

Every street stained red at least once in its many years.

Every dark shadow holding the faint shadows and shades of the dead.

Gotham was, before all else, a grave yard.

Jason had known that his entire life. Every kid born and raised in the Alley did. Death came fast to Gotham’s streets. Especially for those the rest of the city turned its back on. He did his best to lighten the reaper’s load when it came to the people that called Crime Alley home. Well, mostly. He’d certainly added names to old Death’s list before, when the occasion called.

When the armies of the dead descended upon Gotham, the only surprise Jason could feel was that those white wearing pieces of shit had dared to try and hunker down in his city.

It was a sentiment shared by most of Gotham’s fine citizens. By the city itself - herself? Something to ask later, if there was a later - even if the impossible, living shadow that rose up out of Gotham’s many dark corners was anything to go by. He knew, almost instinctively, that the entity - skin of cracked pavement, mouth a bridge suspended too wide across the face, eyes of CCTV camera lenses and body built brick by grimy, bloody brick of the sharp skyline - was Gotham. Not a ghost but something bigger, greater. Something awfully, terribly alive in all its horrible, noble glory. His city, manifest in the shape almost human beneath the green glow of the torn apart sky above.

Phantom’s armies arrived without warning as they had everywhere else, and their enemies poured out in unforgivably unmarred white suits to meet them. Horrible and garish against the Gotham streets. How they’d ever managed to slink by unnoticed while being so blatantly, clearly not of Gotham Jason wasn’t sure he’d ever know.

If either side thought this would be like the battles they fought before, they were mistaken.

Gotham was a place for Ghosts.

A place the dead piled up, lingered well beyond their deaths. A place where the rules were different from everywhere else in the world. Where crime was rampant and chaos reigned but at the end of the day people said their thanks that they were born to this hellhole and not so cursed to call anywhere else in the world home.

The dead came to fight

And Gotham, a thing so alive it was sickening to look upon, rose up to fight right along side them all.

The agents were ready and prepared for the incursion of the dead. It’d been two weeks since the first volley of attacks. Two weeks spent shoring up defenses and ramping up weapons and strategizing ways to kill what was already dead. They were, as best as they were able to be considering how endless the armies that came for them, prepared.

They weren’t prepared for Gotham.

Weren’t prepared for the city itself to rise up and take spectral, eldritch shape. Jagged building spire and shattered glass teeth bared in a snarl that spanned miles. Screaming rage in a voice made of gunfire and the concussive boom of explosions and the shrieks of a furious crowd.

Weren’t prepared for its people to ignore the gentle ushering of the dead trying to push them away to safety and instead press forward to fight shoulder to shoulder with the ghostly armies.

Weren’t prepared to have brick and bottles and trash and debris rain down upon them from the jeering living. Weren’t prepared for dirty faced children with hard eyes to light up rags stuffed into chipped beer bottles filled with gas and kerosene and throw them with more speed an accuracy than any professional baseball player. Weren’t ready for Gotham’s motley crew of terrifying Rogues to band together with the citizens they so often accosted and worried and bring down wave after wave of chaos and Goons.

Weren’t prepared for Red Hood to swap out his rubber bullets for the real deal and start mowing the fuckers in white down, his own crew at his back, the rest of the Outlaws on their way.

The Justice League was trying to find a peaceful resolution. Trying to play go between to the US Government and the infinite dead. Too wound up in US politics to side with the dead outright, too disgusted by what the American government had done to ever want to stand with them. All it had gotten them was spun wheels and confusion and the slow creeping realization that the time to try and play negotiators had well passed.

Red Hood wasn’t a member of the Justice League.

He had no obligation to try and find a way to talk things out.

What he had was a grave he’d dug his way out of, enough ammunition to arm a sizable country, and a burning need to make things right.

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts, and Jason had long accepted that he was one of them.

Haunting the streets he’d survived as a child, the city he protected as Robin, the family he’d loved and lost a thousand and one times before and after his death.

The sky cracked open above his home, and it was not an invading army that came rushing out but a native one. Friends, neighbors, strangers on the street you caught from the corner of your eye. The people of Gotham knew their own and fought for them. Only Gotham was allowed to fucked with Gotham and they’d been screwed over enough by the government themselves to know what side they were on.

He lifted his guns and fired, teeth bared in vicious satisfaction beneath his helmet as white was splattered bright red.

A hissing electric whine of a weapon, a flash of green from the edge of his vision.

“Down!”

He was thrown bodily to the cracked and ruined street beneath him, the body shielding him warm and living as one of the agent’s weapon fired a blast of energy right where he’d been a second before. He’d seen that same weapon reduce one of the raging dead to dripping green and screams of agony the dead should not be capable of making.

Before he could shove himself up and respond in kind, the body above him was in motion and the air above him cracking with the snapping-popping-roar of a gun of a much higher power than even what he had. The fucker in white that had shot at him dissolved into a mist of red viscera, body seizing and shuttering in the briefest moment it had before it was obliterated completely.

“Watch yourself.” He looked up - and up - and wondered at the lovely, fierce face he found staring down at him. “Even without shooting at them you’re Liminal enough to trip their sensors.”

She was tall enough to be an amazon, six inches in height on him at least. Body strong beneath the pitch black armor she work - as deep and dark as the depths of space, etched with starlight, a familiar crest upon her chest in the dizzying burst of a supernova - she held herself with confidence. Strands of hair the color of a warning sunrise escaped out from beneath the helm she wore, bright against her pale skin, warming the glass-sharp teal eyes that had pinned him in place.

The hand not holding the gun she’d just used to delete the asshole that had just tried to shoot him - a strange, impossible thing that made him taste lightning at the back of his throat to look at it - stretched out to help him up.

He accepted it.

Something pulsed to life in his chest. A piece forgotten where it’d been left behind, half buried in grave dirt and broken pieces of a casket he’d clawed his way out of. It burned like a hot coal in his chest, froze him with the same aching cold of a blizzard, crackled his nerves to life with lightning even as his brain popped and fried with the same sizzling energy.

On his feet, hair on end and body and Core pulsing with the need to fight, to rend and tear and scream for all done to him, his people, his home, he met the eyes of the woman before him. Her cool gaze softened, just a moment, just a second as she seemed to realize what had happened. Her hand, lighter than the armor she wore should allow it to be, tightened on his just a moment, mouth tilting from determined frown to soft understanding.

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts.

Jason had long accepted that he was one of them.

---

Part Three

[toadinatoadstool]

Elric of Meliboné will never not be iconic to me.

He’s a neurodivergent goth-twink with a demon sugar daddy, his best friend is a sentient sword that sometimes kills his loved ones, he fought a whole ass multi-planar war with his cousin for his kingdom that literally took him to hell and back just to be like “lol why were we even fighting, you can have the throne 😊”, he was ostracized from his society for knowing what empathy was, he’s constantly one minor inconvenience away from walking into the sea.

RIP Elric, if you’d been written today you would have been #1 tumblr babygirl <3

[nelkcats]

Trapped Fear

At first Fright Knight was not loyal to Pariah, maybe it was because he was the combination of many warriors and he knew that tyranny would lead to nothing. However, because of this the former king engaged him in battle and captured his core, making him loyal.

Like all Ancients, Fright Knight could survive without his core but had to obey the person holding it. He and Clockwork shared that unfortunate fate, though Fright Knight considered being at the mercy of the Observants far worse.

When Danny defeated Pariah Dark his control over Fright Knight stopped, the knight foolishly thought he would take back what was his, but the old king was selfish and thrown the stone of fear into the human world, where he knew Fright Knight would not enter.

Disappointed but used to it, Fright Knight resigned to not finding that part of himself, he served Danny from that moment on, becoming his protector and above all, his friend. Until someone found his core and instead of being free, he was summoned and resigned to fulfill the words of his new owner.

Of course, Danny was worried when his knight disappeared from Phantom Palace, and after a long search he found his whereabouts in a city: Gotham. A man called "Scarecrow" was spreading fear in the city, and it seemed very familiar to him.

After a fight with the bats he got the information he needed: his knight was following the man. When he went to face his old friend, the king noticed that Fright Knight was not speaking on his will, he was crying and sending messages of help that only he could understand. The King was furious, and maybe it was time to show why no one messed with what was his.

[sasakisyndrome]

tck after monty asks him his fourth animal shifting question of the day (no, he does not know if monty eating chocolate would kill him)

[inamagicalhallucination]

merthur but one of them thinks theyre sworn enemies and the other thinks theyre dating

so merlin thinks that arthur and him are sworn enemies right and like he’s being forced to take care of him becuz of the prophecy (lol he actually lowkey cares about him but he’d die before he admitted that fsjakdf) 

anyway

on the other hand arthur is convinced that they are together <3 like he’s there picking flowers thinking omg merlin’s so cute and funny and-

and merlin’s there seething at him like 

yeah

does that make sense i feel like im just saying words

like whats a time period appropriate word for tsundere becuz thats what arthur thinks merlin is

and in arthurs defense; merlin goes above and beyond to help him out; he always there for him; they go on walks and picnics together

on merlins side he’s always babysitting arthur; he’s “reluctantly” being there for him; and arthur repays him by dragging him to the woods at like 2 am becuz god forbid he let merlin get a full night of sleep

anyway

merlin doesn’t actually hate him he’s just dumb

and he thinks arthur hates him and thinks that arthur is all boastufl (trying to impress merlin) and shit

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi, just out of curiosity, given that each character is twisted from some Disney character, and Malleus is full dragon fae, could it be possible that Raverene (still wondering how they got that name translated that way) is actually twisted from Disney's version of the Reluctant Dragon, as they have a LOT of similarities? Both are pacifists, can be slightly cowards, like humans, etc. Do you think there's a chance of it or is he likely to be original? Thanks.

As a reminder, not every character is entirely twisted from a Disney character or concept and no one else. Within the main cast, we have characters of dubious origin (for example, there is no singular Disney wolf that Jack is based on), and I think the same applies for non-main cast like their family members. Yes, some family members have direct Disney counterparts. Cheka--a naive and bright lion cub destined to be king and robbing that spot of hope from his bitter uncle--is twisted from Simba. Rollo has an unnamed little brother whom he lost to "sin" (in this case, magic), which follows the story of the stage production of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Others do not fit as cleanly. Najma is Jamil's younger sister who constantly annoys him. Her Disney counterpart, Nerissa, is Jafar's sister BUT she is his fraternal twin sister, not his younger sister. Additionally, Nerissa is far more wicked than Najma and does not fight with Jafar as often as Najma and Jamil do. Riddle’s dad does not get along with his mom, but we don’t know if that’s because Mr. Rosehearts is also meek like the King of Hearts is. Several other family members do not have obvious Disney parallels at all. For example, Chenya talks about his grandfather, but the Cheshire Cat does not have known family members; the Shroud parents have no equivalent in Hercules, etc.

That being said 💦 I have actually never heard of The Reluctant Dragon until now (nor did I know that Disney had a film of this name), so I’m not familiar with it. Based on the lack of name recognition alone (we know how much Disney and TWST love to bank on nostalgia points), I’d say the parallels between it and Raverne are coincidental?? It feels to me that Raverne was made the pacifist to balance out his much colder wife Maleanor and best friend Lilia. There’s also many parallels between Raverne and Diablo, Maleficent’s crow companion, so I definitely don’t think that Raverene is meant to reference the Reluctant Dragon alone, if he is meant to be twisted from it at all. When TWST introduces a new character, the inspiration more often than not tends to be super obvious and the fact that I have this doubt is another mark against the theory. (Although this is in part due to how little we actually know about Raverne aside from the stories we hear about him, which may not even be entirely accurate to what his character is like in modern day.)

Of course, I don’t know what the TWST devs’ research process is like or how obscure the media they pull from is 🤷‍♀️ Maybe the similarities were meant to be there and I don’t see it due to my own lack of familiarity with the story.

[loriendil]

The Reluctant King - get it now!

The Reluctant King is here in ebook!https://books2read.com/LSK-RK Maradhor and his new bride flee for their lives, pursued by his former clan who have now become their enemies. With the treacherous mountains looming ahead and the harsh winter weather closing in, their only hope of salvation lay in crossing the distant Great River. But even as they struggle towards safety, Alcandhor faces his own…

[rynnthefangirl]

The King Aegon that Greenies think never wanted the throne, was forced to take it for the good of his family, and did his best for the people of the realm:

The King Aegon who actually never wanted the throne, was forced to take it for the good of his family, and did his best for the people of the realm:

[hbyrde36]

❄WIP Weekend!❄

Last weekend I was tagged by the lovely @kikidoesfanfic! I was out of town at the time and unable to write for the most part, but this weekend I'm looking forward to hitting the ground running! I've moved into a new position at work recently, and while it comes with many perks (hello pay raise), the added responsibilities are MASSIVELY cutting into my fic writing time 🤣 So I'll definitely be doing more of these to kick my butt in gear on nights and weekends 💜

Send me an ask with a name or emoji and I'll write & share three sentences of that fic!

Midsummer Nights 🏕️

- Summer camp fic (working on Ch 3)

Fuggi Regal Fantasima 👻

- Ghost Eddie fic (working on Ch 3)

Caught In The Undertow 🌊

- Depressed Eddie (finishing Ch 7 & working on Ch 8)

Forever After 💫

- Follow-up to It's Only Forever (formerly secret one-shot)

No pressure tags 💜 @penny00dreadful @pearynice @sidekick-hero @firefly-party @steddiecameraroll

@devondespresso @slippy-slip @vthx @eriquin @tinytalkingtina

If you see this and want to play along, consider yourself tagged!

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Friday

Well, not a snippet. A whole durn one-shot. No title yet, so let's just call it "Responsible Adults, or, Damas Wants A Raise"

(This mentions a hilarious headcanon that rose from a discussion of game weapons with @troblsomtwins829 and @segaphantom , one I intend to use from now on, where it was decided that red eco shockwave ammo is what Wastelanders give their kids when they're first learning trigger discipline, and Jak is the equivalent of a kid bringing down a grizzly bear with a plastic baseball bat. Also featuring swears borrowed from Watership Down because rabbit language is a lot of fun tbh)

It should have been a perfectly straightforward event. Fourteen candidates who had finally passed the initial terrain tests to Kleiver's satisfaction, finally able to go at it with weapons. Only Scatterguns for now, of course. Live ammunition would wait for those who passed their first trial. Those left standing would receive their gate pass and first amulet, everyone who had dodged the lava but not their comrades' shockwaves would be scraped off the sand and delivered to the on-site hospital. They would have to wait another month to retake their trial.

It was standard procedure.

They'd done it hundreds of times.

But this time, it was immediately apparent that something was amiss.

One man broke out of the pack before Damas could even explain what was expected of a first trial. He ran between the cover provided by the matter formers like his life depended on it, gun swinging uselessly on his back.

Well. That one probably wasn't going to last.

Damas sighed and checked the tiny screen that showed him the Arena from a closer view. Oh. That was the Krimzon Guard who had turned up at the temple, begging for clemency in the wake of Praxis's death.

Well if he survived this, his record was clean. But if he didn't-

Well that was one less Krimzon Guard in the world.

Behind him, down the stairs leading to the interior corridors of the Arena, Damas heard an alarm siren. He frowned. What could be so urgent as to sound an alarm back there? Was a patient coding?

The king twitched one ear back to listen for details while glancing periodically at the ring.

"All personnel, all personnel, be on the lookout: an unaccompanied minor is missing from Ward 2. Light hair, underweight, believed to be experiencing medical distress-"

Damas blinked. How on earth had a patient gotten out of the children's ward without someone noticing? Oh, Dr. Petros was going to spit fire when he found out.

"It's going to be one of those days," Damas grumbled, rubbing his forehead, "I can already tell."

He was correct.

A chorus of surprised voices began shouting in the stands, and Damas squinted down into the Arena. Amidst the chaos, the tattooed soldier formerly of Haven was still fleeing for his life. He occasionally fired behind him, but focused mainly on looking for a way out of the Arena. And now Damas could actually see his pursuer.

The figure was small -- tiny, compared to most of the candidates in both height and weight. It wove in and out of the combatants with an unusual speed and grace. But something was wrong.

"What the-"

Damas stood.

"Asa," he said into a handheld radio, "Don't activate the lava. Can you get eyes on the field and tell me if I'm actually seeing someone in hospital scrubs out there?"

"If what?!"

The man running the matter formers went silent as he peered out of his booth further down the wall.

"Bloody Frith! That guy doesn't even have a gun! They're not allowed to be unarmed for trials!"

"No, no they are not." Damas tightened his jaw. "But if he's unarmed-"

Then what's the Krimzon so afraid of?

The mystery candidate passed near the drone camera, and Damas almost dropped the screen entirely.

"Embleer Frith!" he swore, "It's that kid!"

It was the boy he'd found in the desert, barely alive, the one with a dead man's beacon in his hand. It had only been two days! Foundlings weren't permitted to take Arena trials until they had been declared medically sound for three consecutive days after their rescue!

Damas suddenly remembered the call from Petros, informing him that the young man was not, in fact, an adult from Haven. That he was in reality a young boy, covered with some deeply concerning scars. And the doctor had been very insistent about the foundling not being of age for combat trials.

The alarm from the hospital continued to blare, and Damas had a sinking feeling that the unaccompanied minor and the kid he'd hauled out of the desert were one and the same.

Who had allowed this?! The foundling definitely hadn't passed the terrain test yet -- he hadn't even reached the minimum age allowed to compete yet! He never should have gotten past Kleiver in the waiting hatch!

"Oh don't tell me," he breathed.

The Arena had been compromised. And that meant that the results of the fourteen candidates' initial combat trial were compromised. If Kleiver didn't have an incredible explanation for this, heads were going to roll.

Below, the boy had caught up to his quarry. Every single blast of the Scattergun, he dodged. Then the former guard shouted something; Damas couldn't make it out, but from the footage his lips seemed to be forming the word "free" or "freak".

Yells of both excitement and alarm filled the stands as the renegade patient just

Changed.

Purple sparks flickered over his body, like lightning. Every part of his body the sparks touched drained of all color. This was not the pallor of the dead, this was the white of bleached bone, and teeth. Black horns rose from ragged hair. Black claws were barely visible on each hand. At this distance, even his eyes looked black.

What. Was. That.

The KG screeched, firing without aiming. But the demonic boy launched too quickly to be tracked by the drone, taking the guard to ground. Damas knew without looking that the man was dying. He didn't even scream. There was only a pitiful gurgle as claws pierced his throat.

Damas turned the volume as far up on his screen as he could, just in time for the monstrous form to recede, to vanish as though it had been a mere hallucination. Spattered with blood, the boy from the desert stood up on shaking legs. Just barely, the drone caught his vicious hiss.

"Not so funny when you're the one with a mouth full of blood, huh, Tyber?"

He spat on the dying man.

And then his knees buckled.

Damas had seen enough.

"Stop the trial!" He commanded, waving guards towards the Arena. "The Arena is compromised! Get the candidates back to barracks, and send Kleiver to me, immediately."

He started to leave the booth, then turned back to the radio again.

"And find whoever was in charge of Ward 2 this week! And for the love of the Precursors get that kid out of my Arena!"

Oh, heads were going to roll.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Jak could hear shouting long before the creaking wooden platform reached the top of the shaft. He'd already been tense when the two big Wastelanders pulled him off the cot someone had dropped him on. If one of them hadn't been carrying Daxter, it was very likely that Jak would have tried to kill them, too. Now he started tugging experimentally at his arms, checking their grip.

"Quit!" One of them scowled at him. "The king’s mad as it is, don't make it worse!"

"-Didn't drag that kid off death’s doorstep just for you two to send him right back!" A raspy voice was yelling, "So you tell me, Rezzik, how a patient -- who Petros already told me was a minor based on musculoskeletal scans -- got into the Arena -- unarmed -- during a combat trial!"

The voice that responded was the skinny guy Jak had shoved away from him when he first woke up.

"Sire, the boy just-"

"I didn't ask about the boy! Tell me what you did! You were in charge of the children's ward this week, not the boy! When I want to hear the boy's side of things, I'll ask him myself!"

The other guards holding Jak's arms sucked on his teeth nervously.

"Oh, he's pissed," he whispered. "I wouldn't want to be the nurse right now."

"Or Kleiver. They're in deep weeds," the other agreed.

The elevator locked into place and, for a moment, Jak forgot the shouting. They were inside. And there was water. Water. Inside. Vast pools of it like an indoor oasis. Trees lined the room, dropping the temperature by several degrees. And this had been built by hu'men hands! How?!

"Well there he is." The raspy voiced man -- oh, Jak had seen the guy with the staff on that balcony of that stadium -- made an impatient gesture in his direction.

"Back from the dead, are you? You've certainly caused a fuss, young one. Care to tell me exactly what you were doing unarmed in a combat trial?"

"A combat what?" Jak answered the question with a question.

The man with the staff steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. He inhaled sharply and wheeled to face the skinny medic.

"Rezzik!"

Rezzik put his hands up defensively. "He was unconscious, my lord! He wasn't expected to even be lucid until Se'enday!"

The king dropped his face into his palm.

"Oh my gods," he groaned, "He doesn't even know where he is, does he?"

"Uh, "he" is right here," Daxter snapped.

Every person but Jak jolted.

"It talks?!"

"Oh what the rot what the rot-"

"Oh that's so cursed-"

"Why does it talk?!"

Daxter whistled sharply.

"Yes yes, I'm a miracle of premodern medicine. Moving on! Who are you mooks, where are we, and what's all this about Jak and a combat trial?!"

Jak glowered at the ground.

"Saw Tyber. From the prison. He's dead now."

Daxter's ears drooped and his eyes widened. "Oh..."

He reached down to pat Jak's shoulder.

"The creep had it comin', Jak. You did good."

"Well. Considering you apparently weren't conscious until now, you can't be expected to have known," the man who was probably the king groused, "but entry into the Arena is restricted to those aged eighteen and older for a reason. So. What I need to know is who let you through that gate."

He pointed at the sullen man with the big mustache.

"Did he or did he not make any attempt to stop you?"

Frankly, Jak couldn't remember much about how he got onto that field.

"Wouldn't have mattered if he did or didn't," he muttered, "he couldn't have stopped me."

The king narrowed his eyes at him. Then he seemed to actually see him.

"Ah, what are we doing- Jin, Faro, let go of the kid! Get him some water for the gods sakes, he just passed out on the battlefield!"

Then he turned to look at the guy he'd called Kleiver.

His voice was much quieter now. And somehow that was more frightening.

"Kleiver, you know the procedure for new arrivals," he said softly. "Three days' recovery and approval from Maud or Petros before First Trial. So what made you let a boy in hospital clothes through that gate?"

The big man sneered. "Did you see the anklebiter?! He was out for blood! He ended up fine, di'n't he?"

"Fine?! Look at him!" The king gestured sharply in frustration. "He's wearing pajamas!"

"If he'd passed out two minutes sooner he could've died!" Rezzik gasped, appalled.

"Sire, this clearly wasn't the hospital's failure," he said, turning to the king. "This oaf put my patient in danger and-"

"Enough." Damas held up his hand, face hard.

"You are both to blame for what ultimately derailed the trials of fourteen candidates. Rezzik, I leave your penalty to be decided by your superiors. But Kleiver-"

He glared.

"Your only chance at retaining your position is if that boy had an extremely valid reason for hunting down that candidate."

Jak edged away from the guard offering him a canteen. "What counts as valid to you?" he asked pointedly.

The king paced to the edge of his dais, watching Jak with eyes a little too knowing. He folded one arm behind his back and studied him with none of the fire that had been directed at his own people.

"Newcomer, I will ask you only once, and you need only answer once. The man you killed: did he give you those scars?"

Jak went rigid.

They'd seen his scars.

They knew.

Nausea rocked him, crawling up his throat and tasting of shame.

"Boy?" The king pressed, "Did-"

"No." Jak practically spat the word out. "He kept me from escaping. He laughed. And now he's dead. Got a problem with that?"

The king scoffed slightly. He glanced back at Kleiver.

"You are fortunate today. I will retroactively approve an exception for the boy this once as a case of justified retribution. Do not let it happen again."

"Sire," Rezzik piped up again -- guy just didn't know when to keep his mouth shut -- "Arena exceptions must have signed affidavits from the guardian of the minor, mustn't they? As the attending physician, shall I-"

"Don't be a pot-stirrer, Rezzik," Damas said flatly.

Jak muffled a snort and exchanged amused glances with Daxter. At least he wasn't the one getting yelled at.

"No," Damas said, tense again and gritting his teeth, "Since apparently I am the only reasonable adult in this entire godsforsaken room today, I'll complete the affidavit."

He waved dismissively at the group.

"Do not compromise the trials of our candidates again. Negligence costs lives, and weakens our city, gentlemen."

Kleiver looked like he had a few choice words to say about that, but he dipped his head respectfully and marched away without a word. Jin and Faro cringed at each other, then made to grab Jak's shoulder.

"Come on, kid. You need to go back to the doc-"

Jak shoved Jin away and stumbled back.

"Don't touch me!"

Rezzik raised his hands placatingly, approaching as if the boy was a frightened baby animal.

"Hey, hey, it's alright, we only want to help you! I know you must be scared, but if you'll just let us get you back on the IV-"

Jak didn't hear anything else after that.

They were going to inject something into him.

They were going to strap him down and inject something into him-!

His breath shortened as he ducked Jin again. Faro was surprised enough by the elbow strike to his gut to loosen his grip on his gunstaff, and that was all Jak needed.

He ripped the weapon from the guard's hands and swung it in a wide arc, eyes wild.

"Get. Back."

Daxter snarled next to Jak’s ear. "Nobody touches my pal. Keep your filthy needles to yourself, or better yet, stick them up your-"

"Hey! Come on!" Faro complained, "That's custom, kid! You can't just jack a Wastelander's peacemaker, that's just not on!"

"You're not taking me back."

Jak swung the gunstaff again.

"I'm not going back there!

You can't take me back! I won't go back!"

Damas frowned and started down the steps. "What the bloody bones did you people do to make him do...that?!"

"That's...that's what I was trying to tell you before, sire," Rezzik said meekly as he backed away from Jak, "We didn't release him from care, he had some kind of...panic episode. Ripped out the IV and nearly killed Jessop on the way out."

The grinding of teeth was audible even at the bottom of the stairs.

"Petros is going to strangle you if he finds that you didn't take precautions with newcomer trauma," Damas said sharply.

"But we didn't know-! He was unconscious!"

"Get out."

Damas pointed to the elevator.

"Send Petros up here with his file after he deals with you."

When the guards didn't immediately follow the medic, Damas growled. "All of you get out! I've had enough foolishness for one day!"

"Sire," Jin gulped, "The uh, the boy-?"

"He's fine. I have to ask him questions for paperwork now thanks to at least one of you."

That left Jak and Daxter alone with the really really pissed off Wastelander King. (He hadn't even known there were enough Wastelanders to have a king!)

For almost a minute the man paced, swearing very colorfully under his breath. After six or seven very slow, deep breaths, he finally seemed to get control of himself again.

"How do you see needle scars and not think "hm, perhaps someone should stay with him to explain when he wakes up"? It's not that complicated!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

"Is it the full moon this week? It must be. Everyone's lost their twice-rotted minds around here."

He took another deep breath, and after letting it out slowly, he sat down on the edge of the dais.

"Well, I can hardly think of a worse introduction to Spargus than that, but I hope you won't hold it against me."

Jak kept the staff clutched tightly in his hands, but didn't aim it at the man yet.

"Who are you? And what's Spargus? I know it isn't in Haven. Nobody cares what age you are in Haven."

"Definitely not Haven." Damas buried a curse in his hands.

"Gods I hate that place."

Daxter scowled. "Join the club."

"My name is Damas. I am the king of the territory of Spargus, and the man who pulled you out of the desert that surrounds us. And you are going to be an interesting case, I can tell."

Damas used his staff to drag a box from the side of the throne to just beside him. After some digging, he came up with an oddly shaped piece of metal.

"Ah. There it is."

He looked up.

"This is a battle amulet. Earning three grants adult newcomers citizenship and equal legal protections in the city."

"What if you're not an adult?" Jak challenged.

"Then you're already a citizen, but you can't vote until you're nineteen." Damas dismissed this as if it barely warranted mentioning.

"Now, understand this, boy: I am giving you your first amulet. And I will give you the modular gun. But you will not be allowed to take further trials until you pass eighteen years of age. I will hold your gate pass until such time as you can show me you have learned to survive in the wastes out there."

"You're keeping us here?!" Jak bristled.

"You're a minor. You had heatstroke. It happens. And since my people want to be idiots today evidently, you and I are going to be stuck with each other for a couple years. So you'd better get used to this place." Damas turned and stood up to stretch.

"Frith-rot-it. I have to go get the bloody intake forms, make a whole folder now- Do we even have more guardian ad litem forms?!"

He stepped somewhere behind the throne and seemed to vanish. "Amuse yourselves while I'm gone. No drowning in my throne room.".

And then he was gone , leaving the boys with more questions.

"What...what just happened?" Daxter asked.

Jak didn't have an answer.

[spacedace]

John Constantine knew what he was. Knew he wasn’t a good man. He tried, sometimes. Got credit for it more often than he should. But at the end of the day, he was a bastard of the highest sort and nothing was going to change that fact. A rogue and a rake through and through. He lied, he cheated, he stole, and delighted in doing so. Cut from the same cloth as ol’ Stingy Jack who tricked the devil into letting him live longer than he should and managed to keep himself out of hell to boot after he’d finally shuffled off his mortal coil. John liked to think his cloth had been sewn into a much sharper suit though. He’d been clever enough to avoid the dying altogether, no carrying around smoldering turnips in the bleak between of closed-off afterlives for him, thanks. He was a charlatan and a scoundrel, and many, many worse things besides. John knew what he was. The woman who appeared in his dank and stinking flop house room in the middle of the night knew what he was too.

The Wild Hunt calls. For better or worse, John Constantine answers.

-

Chapter 6 is up! 😄

[bisclavret]

enid, guinevere, vivien || the reluctant bride