#Virgil Hilts

[pedroam-bang]

The Great Escape (1963)

[delimeful]

failed bounties and fresh bonds (3)

G/T July Day 14: Instrument

warnings: dehumanization, mild blood, threats, captivity, child endangerment, lmk if i missed any

-

Roman was in the midst of perusing the brightly-colored wares at a market stall when he overheard the quiet conversation.

He hadn’t actually planned to stay in town for so long, but the innkeeper had mentioned the weekly market and he’d found himself wondering if maybe there were any toys or other entertaining items being sold there.

He’d be a poor excuse for an uncle if he didn’t even bring back any gifts for his treasured nephew, after all!

(And maybe if he picked the perfect one, he’d make some actual progress on getting in Virgil’s good graces. Or at least having the kid be even a little less terrified of him!)

It was at least worth looking, he decided, even if such a detour was a bit of a distraction from his journey. He would be in and out, easy as that.

Except one stall had pointed out another, which had led to another and so on, and before he knew it, half the morning had gone by. And he still hadn’t picked out a gift!

Before he could commit one way or the other, hurried whispering from the nearby corner caught his ear. He was a knight, which meant all his senses were keenly trained to pick up trouble. And mutterings about a monster? That most certainly sounded like trouble.

“Pardon me,” he started, cutting into the hushed argument with a dazzling smile. “As a knight of the realm, I’d be happy to help you out with your little monster problem! No bounty hunters necessary.”

“It’s not a little problem,” one of the townsfolk grumbled, while the other eyed Roman speculatively.

“You’ll get rid of it without charging us?” she asked bluntly, earning a glare from her companion.

Roman nodded, used to the question. “Such is the responsibility of a knight of these lands.”

“It’s not something we need to get rid of!” the first stranger interrupted with a scowl. “It’s powerful, it could be devastating on a battlefield. Your king should be buying it from us.”

“Oh, shut it,” the woman snapped. “You can’t get that beast to do anything but growl and hide away, and I want it out of here before the town becomes its next casualty!”

The man wheeled around to face her, his face purpling, but before they could start bickering again, Roman stepped forward.

“Why don’t you take me to where the monster is, first?” he said, patting the hilt of his sword reassuringly. “I won’t be able to decide anything without seeing it.”

The pair subsided with matching grumbles, and before long, they were walking down a small, overgrown path outside of the town, one that slowly curved into the rockier forest area that surrounded it.

It was interesting that he couldn’t find a trace of fear on either of his guides, even as they grew closer to where the alleged beast was. Wariness and irritation, sure, but none of the true terror that so often came with seeing one of the monsters of this land.

Roman didn’t think it was an ambush or trap, either. Perhaps they’d simply caught a particularly large wolfdog and gotten overexcited?

“Here we are,” the man said, his vexed expression fading away in favor of excitement, like a child showing off a new toy.

They’d reached the wide mouth of a cave, one that was squat and shallow, but still deep enough to house something large. There was nothing in sight.

“Are we supposed to venture inside…?” Roman hazarded, not too keen on the idea. His dislike of dark spaces aside, cramped quarters were the worst place for his favored style of combat.

The woman snorted. “Not unless you want to be bitten in half. Just wake it up already.”

The latter sentence was directed at the man, who scowled darkly at her before pulling an engraved bit of metal from his pocket. From a single glance at the intricate symbols and embedded stones, Roman assumed it was an enchanted magical instrument of some kind.

The woman shot him an assessing glance, as though to see if he had any negative response to the item, but he only met her gaze evenly, unperturbed.

His brother had wrangled the magic of his curse into its own kind of witchcraft at ten years old. Roman would be a hypocrite to believe that all forms of enchantment were designed to harm.

He had something of a bad feeling in his gut, though, and it only worsened as he watched the man press a thumb down against the sharp edge of the tool, pricking his finger to activate the device with his blood.

There was a pause as the man waited expectantly, and then frowned, before tightening his grip on the tool and yanking it through the air, as though pulling at an invisible cord.

With a muffled cry, something huge tumbled out of the cave into the light. Roman took a step back, feeling the color drain from his face.

That was not a wolfdog.

His attention caught on the identifying details first— the horns, the scales, the horizontal pupils, the wings— and he knew that this was a dragon, shifted into a more humanoid form (if admittedly one that was still dragon-sized).

In the next moment, Roman’s eyes settled onto the face beneath the mythical features, and his heart dropped like a stone. That was a child’s face, round-cheeked and crumpled up in distress.

Sure, it was a child big enough to grind his bones to a paste in one swat, but that didn’t change the fact that he was seeing a kid in tears. A kid that happened to be awfully similar to his recently acquired nephew.

They were alike in more ways than one, he realized as his gaze dropped down to the thick metal cuffs that were wrapped around all four of the child’s limbs. They had no chains binding them together— or rather, no visible chains. The engravings visible on the metal were telling enough as to just what that enchanted instrument was connected to.

“Where did you get that tool?” he asked, dizzy with the shock of such a scene.

The man preened, mistaking Roman’s alarm for interest. “Impressive, isn’t it? Some idiot sold it to me for cheap.”

The only ones skilled enough to get cuffs like these on a dragon shifter were mercenaries, who were known for being demanding barterers. More likely than not, that ‘idiot’ had been pawning off a stolen good, hoping to pass on the consequences of crossing a mercenary guild to an unlucky buyer.

Roman remembered the faded scars on Virgil, and felt a boiling hot fury bubbling up in him. He took a step forward, expression dark, and the kid flinched away and huddled down. The motion was enough to send a shock of horror down his spine, dousing the worst of his impulsive anger.

Right. Get the kid out safe first, deal with scumbags later.

“This is certainly a dangerous creature,” he lied through grit teeth, and then held out a hand. “You were right to take me up on my services. I can take it from here.”

The man recoiled, holding the tool tighter. “I know something valuable when I see it, and clearly, so do you. It would be stupid of me to part with it without getting something for my time.”

Roman turned to look at the child again, trying to repress the hot anger bubbling in his chest. The kid wasn’t even watching them discuss their fate, eyes scrunched up tightly and hands twitching like they would have covered their ears, too, if their wrists weren’t still locked in place.

He had left to avoid inflicting more distress on a traumatized child, and yet here he stood, doing exactly that yet again. Roman grimaced, and then asked himself a question that almost never led him anywhere good: What would Remus do?

Turning slowly, he met the man’s eyes, set a hand on the pommel of his sword, and grinned.

“It would be stupider,” he said, slow and menacing, “to demand anything from me when I’m the one fixing your little problem in the first place.”

The man lost some of his confidence, wavering.

“If you’d prefer to lose a hand along with it, by all means keep hanging on,” Roman added, almost conversationally. “I’m sure even the bite of my blade would feel like tender mercy compared to the wrath that will fall upon you if the mercenaries that caught this beast find out you’re the one who stole that key.”

“Give it to him,” the woman snapped, expression hard and hunted.

Knowing what terror she’d sat by and abided, Roman couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad.

“Fine!” the man spat, throwing the tool at his feet. “Take it and go!”

The woman, keener on the uptake, grabbed him by the crook of his arm the moment the key hit the dirt, and yanked him back down the path from where they’d come.

Roman obviously wasn’t actually going to use the tool to make the kid attack them, for a very large range of reasons, but he wasn’t going to correct the misconception if it got them away from him and the kid quicker.

He leaned down to scoop the key up, grimacing at the glint of blood still visible on it, and then turned to look at the kid.

They quickly shuttered the eye they’d been peeking out of back closed, immediately curling in tighter and bracing themself.

“Dear child,” Roman said, sorrow heavy in his heart. “Can you look at me for a moment?”

There was a pause, the kid twitching in surprise, and then a slow reappearance of those big blue eyes.

“Hello there,” he greeted, keeping his voice soft. “I don’t know you, but I have a nephew that you remind me very much of. I’m sorry for speaking so harshly before, but I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

“Help me?” the kid echoed in a large whisper, and then winced as though waiting for a strike to land.

“Yes,” Roman replied, once he was confident that he’d ironed the last traces of the fury he felt out of his voice. “Do you know how I could remove these cuffs from you?”

The kid’s eyes went impossibly wider. “Really?” they whispered.

Roman nodded firmly. “Really, truly.”

Their bottom lip wobbled, and Roman felt a sense of despair at what was turning out to be a month that proved him extremely inept with children, only for them to blink back the tears and keep speaking in that hushed voice.

“I don’t know how to remove ‘em, but I— I know if you get all the blood off, I can move my hands around normal again," they offered, watching him with an unsettling intensity, eyes lit with the tentative hope of a starved dog.

Roman pulled his canteen from his hip immediately, untwisting the lid with his teeth and promptly dumping the contents over the metal’s surface. The worst of the blood was washed away, and he dragged out a part of his undershirt to wipe off the remaining stain.

He couldn't deny a bit of apprehension, but rather than try and attack him or otherwise lash out, the kid only pulled their hands to their chest and curled over them protectively, the mingled stress and relief so visible on their face that Roman felt his own chest ache in sympathy.

“May I know your name, dear child?” he asked, pushing away his automatic nervousness as they shifted to sit up to their full height.

“Oh!” the child gasped, seemingly shocked that they’d only just recalled their manners despite the situation. “M’name is Patton, nice to meet you!”

“Well, Patton Nicetomeetyou,” Roman responded in jest, relief sweeping over him when the kid smiled, “You may call me Roman.”

He swept into a dramatic bow, adding the silliest flourishes in his repertoire, and Patton laughed, a soft, watery chuckle. The longer they spoke without being punished, the more they uncurled, slowly, like a flower blooming.

“If I may?” Roman asked, reaching a hand out.

He thought for a moment that the child would refuse— Virgil certainly refused any and all direct contact with him— but Patton only hesitated for a moment before slowly reaching out, hovering their considerably larger hand in front of him.

“For you,” he vowed, and set the instrument on Patton’s fingertips. “Until we find a way to get those accursed cuffs off, you should be the only one to possess that device.”

Patton’s fingers drew back the moment they recognized the tool, inhaling sharply as they curled their fist around it. They sniffled slightly, but they were smiling again, as though they couldn’t help the surprised delight, so Roman didn’t feel entirely useless.

“My brother, Remus, knows much more about magecraft than I do. I would be honored if you would accompany me to his home. He may be strange,” Roman paused, and then emphasized, “very, very strange, but he’ll do what he can to help.”

Patton was nodding almost before he’d finished speaking, eyes still red-rimmed. “I can’t go home until I know nobody can make me hurt anyone,” they said firmly. “I wanna meet your weird brother, please.”

Now there was a sentence he almost never heard. With any luck, Remus would know what to do, or even Virgil, though Roman would be loath to ask anything that reminded his nephew of whatever horrors lurked in his past.

“Then meet him you shall! I’ll retrieve my horse from town, and we can be off!” Roman replied heartily, his own spirits lifted by Patton’s determination.

He wouldn’t have time to pick up a gift for Virgil, but that was alright. Roman got the feeling that his current endeavor was something his nephew would have valued more, anyhow.

[ironwoman359]

Our Own Villain Ch. 9

Prologue, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9, Ch.10

Word Count: 5,570

Chapter Summary: Everything Roman has worked for threatens to crumble around him as Logan puts his plan to save his friends into motion.

Pairings: Logicality, could be read as romantic or platonic, platonic Moxiety

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, guilt, isolation and anger, overworking, fantasy violence, just generally unhealthy thought patterns going on for Roman.

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

AN: IT'S HERE! As always, I cannot post this story without acknowledging the incredible @theinvisiblespoon, who helped me edit this and resulted in over 400 extra words of flavor for this chapter. They're the absolute best! Also, shout out to @teacupfulofstarshine for helping me get over some writers block with a few of these passages, she's an absolute darling <3

— — —

“I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

The captain of the guard bowed low before Roman, a faint tremor in his posture betraying his nerves.

“I’ve had my men up all night, searching the city from top to bottom,” the captain continued, “but there’s been no sign of the fugitive.” 

The man kept his head low, glancing tentatively up at Roman who paced back and forth across the floor of the throne room, arms crossed across his chest. He barely noticed the captain’s discomfort, lost entirely in thought. 

Where could Logan be? There was no way he could have left the Imagination, so how had the guards not found him yet? Roman supposed he could have snuck out of the city somehow, but there was nothing for him out there but wilderness, and it was cruel, even for Logan, to run away without even trying to rescue Patton and Virgil. No, he had to be hidden somewhere, somewhere that he thought was clever enough to escape Roman’s notice. 

“Keep searching, Captain,” he ordered. “He must be somewhere in the city. Perhaps he has enlisted the help of one of the townspeople and is being kept out of sight. Issue a decree that anyone found to be harboring criminals will face charges of treason. I want every-”

“Your Highness!” a new guard burst into the room, and Roman spun around with a glare. 

“What is it now? Are you men so utterly incompetent that you’re incapable of following the most simple of commands? I said that I was not to be disturbed!”

“It’s just, your highness,” the guard stammered, cowering in the face of Roman’s rage. “There’s an attack at the gates–” 

“What on earth makes you think I care about the gates right now?” Roman exclaimed. “There is a traitor loose in the city, corrupting the people and conspiring against me. Nothing at the gates could possibly be more important than finding–”

A roar pierced the air, and Roman went rigid, his hand automatically gripping the hilt of his sword. 

“Dragon Witch,” he hissed, and the guard nodded frantically. 

“She was spotted flying down from the mountains, your highness. The gate guard sent me to warn of her attack.” 

Roman slammed his fist down on the table. 

“Of course she would strike now, when we are distracted and unprepared. Captain, send criers through the streets to order your men to mobilize at the main gate. And bring me my armor! We must not let her take the city!” 

The soldiers scrambled from the room, and for a moment, Roman stood alone. After everything he’d done, everything he’d worked for, he now was faced with this. His oldest and strongest enemy, coming to challenge him when he was at his weakest. Did she think he would simply cave before her might? He was Roman, Prince of the Imagination, Thomas’s Hero, the last bastion of goodness left for the entire mindscape. He wouldn’t be overthrown by a mere construct. He laughed to himself. No one was around to hear it.

The next several minutes were a flurry of activity, and soon Roman was on his horse, his silver breastplate glinting in the first red rays of sunrise poking over the horizon as he cantered through the city streets.  

The thought of Logan somehow escaping the city during the battle briefly crossed his mind, but he pushed the idea away. They would find the logical side eventually; after all, there was nowhere for him to run. 

Outside the city wall, the Dragon Witch let out another roar, and Roman urged his horse forward, drawing his sword. 

Right now, Logan didn’t matter. 

What did matter was making sure that his realm did not fall. He was Roman, Creativity, creator of this realm and Prince of the mindscape. He was a hero, the only hero Thomas had left after all the others had fallen prey to the wicked machinations of those accursed Dark Sides. 

And nothing, not the others, not the Dragon Witch, nothing, was going to stand in his way.

— — — 

Screams rang out through the streets as another of the Dragon Witch’s roars shook the city. Seth pressed himself up against the wall of the alleyway, peering out from behind a corner. The palace drawbridge lowered and Prince Roman and his guards in full armor appeared. The thunder of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestone and with the blare of the soldiers’ warhorns echoed all around Seth, and he ducked out of the way as the battalion rode past his hiding spot. 

The market was quickly emptying as merchants and shoppers fled the streets, and he intended to take full advantage of the chaos. Now that he had secured a place by the square, he hoped to pilfer enough foodstuffs from the merchants to be set for at least a week. Seth waited until the last terrified shopkeeper had disappeared from sight, then he crept out from the alleyway into the square. 

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder and roughly pulled him back into the shadows. He spun with a cry, his fists up in an instant ready to strike, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who had attacked him. 

“Maddie?”

“We had a deal, Seth,” the girl said, glaring at him. 

“But I saw you…the Arachnids…”

“Show me the servant’s entrance, please,” Maddie interrupted, folding her arms. 

“What, now? We’re in the middle of a siege! Come on, let’s comb through the market and see if we can get any–” 

“Seth, if you don’t show me that servant’s entrance right now, I will ensure that you spend every waking moment for the rest of your life fighting tooth and nail for that market spot. I said it was yours once you showed me the entrance, and unless you take me right this second–” 

“Okay, okay!” Seth said, raising his hands in surrender. “Sheesh, Maddie, what’s gotten into you?” 

“It is vitally important that I gain access to the palace. The reason why doesn’t concern you,” Maddie said as Seth led her up the street towards the palace walls. 

Luckily, the entire city guard had ridden out to the gates with the Prince to fight the Dragon Witch, and the barred gate where Seth met his contact on the palace staff stood unprotected. 

“There’s a door on the other side of the garden that the servants use,” he said, pointing through the courtyard. “Though I don’t know why that would matter to you, it’s not like you could get in. There are easier places to steal food from, especially since the city is under attack right now?” 

Maddie didn’t bother answering, she just pushed past him and pulled experimentally on the gate. It was locked and didn’t budge, but she didn’t seem put off by that fact. 

“Thank you, Seth. Our deal is complete. The spot by the market is yours. Now, I suggest you take cover; as you so aptly pointed out, the city is under attack.” 

“What about you?” Seth asked.

“I have something I need to do,” Maddie answered, pulling a small glass vial from her dress pocket. She uncorked the bottle and poured a few drops of its contents on the gate’s lock, and Seth stared in awe as the metal melted away like ice on a summer’s day. 

“Now go,” Maddie ordered. “I’ll explain later…if we ever manage to resolve this whole ordeal.” 

Part of Seth wanted to stay and see what on earth the girl was up to, but just then the very sky seemed to explode, bright purple lightning and blue streaks of light flashing all around as the ground shook. Seth became overwhelmed with nausea, and he fell to his knees, retching. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maddie still standing, seemingly unaffected by whatever strange spell had caused the world to fall apart around them. He tried to call out to her, but she slipped through the gate and disappeared into the palace grounds before he could force his mouth to form words.

As soon as it began, the lightning stopped, and after a moment of gasping, Seth regained his bearings. He looked at the open palace gate, but then another roar rang out, and he turned and ran back through the city towards his new market spot. Maybe after he scavenged what food he could, he’d risk the gangs and take cover in the sewers until this was all over. Whatever had Maddie acting all weird, he didn’t want to know about it. He’d have a hard enough time surviving the Red Sun as it was. 

The Dragon Witch’s roar echoed through the streets and Seth stumbled as he skidded around a corner. 

When would this madness end?

— — — 

“Prince Roman!” the Dragon Witch called out, her voice reverberating through the city. “Show yourself and face me!” 

She hurled a spell at the city walls, and they buckled and folded beneath the weight of her magic. She stretched out her wings and roared, the very sound of her fury sending a squad of guards who were approaching to draw back in fear. A few of the gate guards tried to stand their ground, but she batted them away easily with a swing of her tail. 

Slowly, she stalked into the city, giving the peasants in the streets plenty of time to run screaming from her mighty presence. The slower and more dramatic she was in her approach, the more time it would give Prince Roman to muster his entire guard and ride out to face her. 

After a few minutes of her lazy destruction, the sound of battle horns rang out in the distance, and the Dragon Witch smiled. Looking up, she caught sight of Prince Roman’s black and red banner fluttering in the breeze, signaling that her quarry was coming within her grasp.

“Ready, little hero?” she asked quietly. She felt the grip of the human sitting on her back tighten. 

“As I’ll ever be,” came the answer, and the Dragon Witch chuckled. 

“Don’t worry,” she reassured. “Just stick to the script we practiced and you’ll be fine.” 

Prince Roman came into view then, and she had to give him credit where it was due. Even in this mindset, when the very fabric of her reality was changed because of his pain and anger and frustration, he was personally leading the charge against her. How many tyrant kings would send their armies out to die in a battle that they wouldn’t dare to risk themselves?

He wants so badly to be good, she thought as the prince stared up at her, his face twisted in a look of disgust. Not just good. Perfect. If only he could see the truth. 

“So it comes down to this!” Roman called up in a loud, clear voice. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you capable of this level of betrayal, Logan.”

He spat the name out like it was poison, and the Dragon Witch felt her passenger tense. 

You can do this, little hero, she thought. Save us all. 

“Prince Roman!” Logan’s voice was firm and unwavering, and the Dragon Witch couldn’t help the small swell of pride she felt at the sound. 

“Release your prisoners and surrender, or see your realm destroyed!” 

— — — 

Roman stared up in disbelief as the Dragon Witch sneered down at him. Of all the possible outcomes, of all the ways that he’d expected a confrontation with the last remaining free Light Side to go, he’d never expected this. 

Logan sat on the Dragon Witch’s back, staring down at Roman with a determined expression on his face. He looked almost comical, in his simple polo shirt, tie, and glasses while riding atop such a majestic and mighty beast, but Roman wasn’t in the mood to find humor in the situation. 

“Release my prisoners?” Roman repeated. “And why, exactly, would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, we will destroy the realm,” Logan repeated simply. 

“If you think that I and my forces won’t be able to defeat the Dragon Witch before she destroys the city, let alone the realm, then you’re sorely mistaken.” 

Logan frowned, tilting his head. 

“You would risk your entire world’s existence, rather than accept defeat?”

“I’ve not been defeated yet!” Roman shot back. “Besides, I made this world. If it is destroyed, then I will simply make it again. Your threat is meaningless!”

“And the lives of the people living in it?” Logan demanded. “Are they meaningless too?”

Roman opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, the world split apart. Purple lightning filled the sky, and he let out a cry of anguish as a wave of emotion slammed into the walls he’d placed up between his realm and Thomas. 

There was the same fear and anxiety from Virgil as there had been before, but there was also sadness, doubt, and guilt, manifesting in bright blue flashes throughout the storm. The guilt was somehow even more debilitating than the fear, and as he fought to keep the emotions from reaching Thomas, he could feel his grip on the realm itself slipping. 

No… he thought, desperately trying to hold on to his composure. No, no, no… 

— — — 

It has to be perfect. If it’s not perfect, then I’m just a fraud, I’ve basically been lying to my fans this entire time, and I can’t let that be true, I won’t let them down like that, it has to be perfect.

Thomas let out a gasp as his creative flow slammed to a halt, replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. 

“It will be good enough,” he said aloud to his empty room, but the swirling thoughts of dread and despair only grew stronger. 

But what if it isn’t? What if you’ll never make anything worth watching again and all the sacrifices you’ve made, all the friendships you’ve harmed along the way, all of that will have been for nothing? Your dreams will never come true and your friends will all abandon you. You’ve never really been that good a person anyway, why on earth would they stay? You’ll end up all alone for the rest of your life, and it will be your fault.

“What is going on?” 

Thomas started to reach out for his sides, but he wasn’t sure who exactly to summon. Who could be responsible for this type of thinking? He’d never felt like this before, as though his thoughts were being forcibly pulled out of his control, except…

Except for that time when Virgil had ducked out. He hadn’t been as aware of it, but his thoughts had felt just like this: foreign and strange and fully divorced from what he was directly experiencing.

Thomas frowned, and decided that the best thing to do would be to summon all the sides together. He started to reach out with his mind, but before he could contact anyone specific, somebody appeared in the corner of his vision. 

Unfortunately, it was the last side he wanted to see. 

“Janus?” he asked. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”

“I think you should take a break, Thomas,” Janus said quietly. “Put the laptop away and try to get some rest.”

“What? No,” Thomas said, shaking his head. “I need to keep working on this, it’s my best idea ever. It could completely change the course of my creative career, I just have to get these feelings under control and then I’ll–” 

“Thomas,” Janus interrupted sharply. “You’ve been working for fifteen hours straight.” 

Thomas glanced at the time on his laptop and was startled to see that Janus was right; it was nearly three in the morning, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d stopped to take a break. 

“You need to stop,” Janus said, his voice firm. “Your magnum opus can wait until tomorrow.” 

“I guess…” Thomas said slowly. “But what’s going on with the others? I felt…strange, just now.” 

“Get some sleep,” Janus said. “If everything goes right, you’ll feel better in the morning.” 

Thomas frowned, giving Janus a skeptical look. 

“Is that my Deceitful side lying to me, or is it the truth?”

“At the end of the day, does that really matter?” Janus asked with a tight smile. “Either way, you need the rest.” 

“I suppose,” Thomas said, stifling a yawn even as he spoke. 

Janus watched as he closed his laptop and got up, a strange expression on his face. Thomas tried not to pay him much attention, quickly swapping his jeans out for some pajama pants before falling into bed. 

“Summon the others tomorrow,” Janus said as Thomas closed his eyes. “By then, they should have things straightened out.”

Thomas was already drifting off, and he felt more than heard Janus’s final words. 

“I hope.”

— — — 

Roman was losing his control. He looked up, and he could see the imagination around him beginning to crumble away. He noticed bits and pieces from his room, the bright white of his bedspread, the shine of the lights around his mirror, the blood red of his sash where he’d thrown it on the floor. The fantasy around him– his soldiers, his city, the Dragon Witch, even Logan himself– it was all flickering in and out of existence as the mental barrage continued. 

“NO!” 

Roman stopped trying to channel the emotions away and instead closed his eyes and pushed, forcing his mental walls back up, stronger and better than before. 

“You won’t take this from me!”  

He opened his eyes, only to see that the outburst of energy had reverted the Dragon Witch into her human form. She stood before him, leaning heavily against her magic staff, Logan now on his hands and knees at her side. Roman drew his sword, pointing it at the pair with a shaking hand. 

“You. Can’t. Take this from me!” 

Logan’s entire body was trembling, but he looked up and met Roman’s gaze, glaring at him even as a tear rolled down his cheek.

“You’re insane,” he whispered. 

Roman let out a bitter, hollow laugh.

“If you just now figured that out, then you’re…” he trailed off, looking down at the shaking side. 

He had begun to fade away as Roman’s control over the imagination loosened, but he was fully solid again now. His breath was ragged and his skin was pale, as though he’d just attempted to run a marathon while running a fever.  

“You’re…not part of this realm,” Roman said slowly. “You’re part of Thomas. You shouldn’t have disappeared.” 

Logan still looked ill, but at Roman’s words he pushed himself to his feet. 

“What was that word he used?” Logan asked, looking over at the Dragon Witch, and a small, triumphant smile spread across his face as he looked back to Roman. “Checkmate.”

Roman’s eyes widened, then the Dragon Witch lashed out suddenly, her staff glowing as she swung it towards him in a wide arc. Roman threw his sword up and blocked her strike, and her spell went ricocheting off through the city.

For a moment, all his attention was on the fight, on blocking and parrying and counter attacking, but he’d sparred with the Dragon Witch dozens of times, in both of her forms. By the third strike from the witch, he’d settled into a familiar rhythm, and turned his attention back to Logan…or what he’d thought was Logan.

“Who are you?” he shrieked. “You can’t be him! He shouldn’t have disappeared! So you must be–” 

“Meaningless?” asked a voice he’d never heard before.

Roman pushed the Dragon Witch away and took a step back, staring in disbelief as Logan’s form began to flicker, just like the rest of the imagination had, just like all the other characters Roman had designed to fill his vast fantasy world had done when he was losing his control over the scene. But he was back in control now; this shifting had another cause. He’d barely had enough time to form the thought before the image of Logan was gone. 

In his place stood a barefoot girl in a tattered dress, her hair a wild mass of curls and her fists clenched at her sides. She looked somehow…familiar, and Roman tilted his head. 

“Do I know you?” 

The girl didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. He remembered now, for the longer he looked at her the more he recognized where she’d come from. When he’d first created the town surrounding the castle, he’d decided it needed citizens to make it feel more lived in. He’d made soldiers, peasants, shopkeepers, tradesmen and artisans, and then, to make the place more realistic, he’d made a handful of street urchins. 

He’d scarcely given the creations any thought after forming them and setting them loose in the city, and why would he? They weren’t meant to be important; the girl had no family, no backstory, no real role to play in his realm. So how on earth had she ended up here, fighting alongside the Dragon Witch and impersonating one of Thomas’s sides?

She looked up at him and he could see fear in her eyes, but there was a quiet strength too. The girl folded her arms and took a step towards him, and the Dragon Witch held out an arm, as if to shield her.

“Careful, little hero,”she murmured, and Roman looked back and forth between the two in disbelief. The girl ignored the witch and took another step, looking up at Roman with a determined expression.

“Like I said,” she repeated. “Checkmate.”

Roman turned and ran, knowing even as he did so that he’d never make it back to the palace in time. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he should have known something was wrong! Why else would the Dragon Witch attack now when she’d never attacked during the Red Sun before? Why else, except to draw him and all his guards away from the palace, leaving the castle vulnerable to an unseen enemy, a more crafty enemy… 

A shadow fell over him, and he glanced up as he ran to see the witch in her dragon form flying along above him, the little girl on her back once more. She quickly overtook him, and landed in the market square, spreading her wings out and blocking his path to the castle. 

“You’re too late, Prince Roman,” the Dragon Witch declared.

“I’ve defeated you before,” Roman cried, shifting into a fighting stance. “I can defeat you again!”

“You can defeat me all you like,” the Dragon Witch replied, her mocking voice echoing his own inner thoughts. “But you’ll never be able to outsmart him.” 

— — — 

Logan had no idea what was causing Roman’s realm to fall apart, but he was exceptionally grateful for it. 

The few remaining guards inside the castle were too overwhelmed by the effects of their very fabric of reality unraveling around them to notice a small girl running through the corridors searching for the dungeons. 

He found the correct door after only a few minutes of searching; Roman’s penchant for the dramatic meant the one door that very obviously looked as though it led to a dungeon did in fact lead to a dungeon, and he pulled the vial of acid the Dragon Witch had given him out of his pocket. Technically, the Dragon Witch had described the liquid inside as a magical potion that would dissolve any substance besides its own container, but the ‘potion’ was functionally identical to a freakishly effective vial of hydrochloric acid. 

Tomato, Solanum lycopersicum, Logan thought as he poured a few drops onto the door handle of the dungeon. After a moment of sizzling, the lock dissolved away and he pushed the door open. 

The room was dark, faint torchlight flickering ominously off the stone walls. Six cells lined the room, and the two at the end of the row were occupied. 

“Patton?” he called. “Virgil?” 

The prisoners looked up, and relief flooded through him when he saw their faces. 

“Maddie?” Patton cried, jumping to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

“Who is that?” Virgil whispered to Patton, but Logan ignored the question. 

“Not Maddie,” he said breathlessly. “It’s me.” 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out another vial, downing its contents in a single gulp. A strange tingling sensation enveloped his body, and he had to admit that in this case, he didn’t have a scientific explanation for the shapeshifting potion that the Dragon Witch had given him.

“Logan?” Virgil asked in disbelief. 

“Watch your hands,” Logan said, stepping forward to pour the remainder of the acid on the locks on their cell doors. 

“I knew you’d figure something out,” Patton said, his eyes shining with pride. “I just knew it.” 

In a moment, both cells were open, and Patton rushed out, pulling Logan and Virgil both into a bone crushing hug. For once, Logan didn’t think, didn’t analyze or worry, he just wrapped his arms around his friends and let himself slump into them. 

They were all safe, and they were all together. For one, shining moment, that was all that mattered.

“Are the two of you alright?” he asked when he eventually pulled back. “You’re not injured, are you?”

Patton shook his head. 

“We’re fine, Logan,” he said, and Virgil nodded in agreement. 

“My head will be a bit sore for a few days, but I’ll live. What about you? We heard the Dragon Witch attacking…” 

“I’m fine,” Logan reassured him. “In fact, the Dragon Witch attack is my own doing.”

“What?” Virgil exclaimed. 

“The potion…” Patton said, his eyes widening. “That’s where you got that potion that made you look like Maddie, isn’t it?” 

“Technically, the potion made me look like myself, as it was an antidote to the spell that she cast to make me look like Maddie–” 

“Hang on, where is Maddie?” Patton interrupted. 

“She’s with the Dragon Witch…pretending to be me.” Patton’s jaw dropped open, and Logan grimaced. “I know! I tried to tell her that it would be safer if she stayed behind in the cave, but she insisted. She said that the distraction would hold Roman’s attention for longer if I appeared to be aiding the Dragon Witch directly in her assault.”

“Back up,” Virgil said, holding up his hands. “You let the Dragon Witch cast a spell on you?” 

“She is Roman’s biggest villain,” Logan said simply. “Asking her to help us defeat him was the only logical choice left.”

“To be fair,” Patton admitted, “It’s not that much crazier than what we tried to do.” 

Logan frowned. 

“What you tried to do?” 

“We’ll tell you on the way out,” Virgil said. “Right now, we should move, before the guards come back.” 

Logan nodded, and the three turned and began making their way out of the dungeon. 

“Remember what happened on the bridge?” Patton asked as they climbed the stairs, and Logan nodded. “Well, I had a feeling that it wasn’t Roman who caused it…I thought it might have been Virgil. And it turns out I was right!” 

“You caused the Imagination to fall apart?” Logan asked, looking back at Virgil. “How?”

Virgil shrugged.

“I’m not exactly sure. I had an overload of anxiety, but something was blocking me from channeling it away the way I normally do.” 

“Roman’s cutting off our access to Thomas,” Patton added. “I think that’s also why we can’t sink out. Reach out for him now; you can’t feel him, can you?” 

They’d reached the top of the stairs, and Logan paused. Normally, he was at least subconsciously aware of whatever external stimuli Thomas was experiencing, so that he could filter through the information and assist with decision making. He��d been so distracted by the quest to save Virgil and Patton that he hadn’t even noticed the lack of that awareness.

“I can’t,” he said aloud, and Patton nodded. 

“I can’t either. Whatever Roman’s done, it’s making him our only access point to Thomas. So we’ve been waiting for the right time to try overloading that access point.” 

“When we heard the Dragon Witch attacking, we thought it would be our best shot,” Virgil said. “And for a minute there I thought we would actually do it, but just before we could break through, the wall went back up again. Somehow, Roman was still stronger than the two of us put together.”

“Perhaps…” Logan mused. “But nonetheless, the two of you did have a strong effect on the Imagination. I wonder…would it be successful if all three of us tried to breach that barrier?” 

As they spoke, Logan led them outside and through the palace gardens to the servants’ gate in the side of the wall. The three stepped out onto the street, and Virgil looked around hesitantly. 

“So…now what?” he asked. 

Logan opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by a familiar roar sounding from the market square. He grimaced, and looked back at his companions.

“Our original plan was to try and sneak out of the city. But simply escaping from Roman isn’t actually going to solve this problem.” 

Patton glanced at Virgil, and at a small tilt of the anxious side’s head, he locked eyes with Logan and nodded. 

“You’re right,” he said firmly. “This whole thing happened because we’ve been ignoring this problem. The only way we’re going to bring an end to this is if we confront it head on.”

“Guess we’ll get a chance to test out your hypothesis, Logan,” Virgil added as they hurried towards the square.  

“If it comes to that,” Logan agreed. “I do still hope that we’ll be able to use reason with Roman, though after all we’ve done to reach this point, I don’t know if that will be effective.” 

“Probably not,” Patton said quietly, and Logan glanced at him. 

Patton met his eyes for a moment, and Logan was surprised at the amount of melancholy he saw there. All through their ordeal, Patton had maintained a level of optimism that bordered on recklessness. As much as Logan had found that to be unrealistic, he also had relied on it for strength more than he’d realized. That Roman had somehow managed to dampen that was almost more offensive than the fact that he’d locked Patton and Virgil up.

Before Logan could think of an appropriate response, the trio rounded the corner into the square, then immediately skidded to a halt. Patton let out a gasp and Virgil swore under his breath; all Logan could do was stand there blankly and take in the scene.

Guards in full regalia lined the square, blocking off every possible avenue of escape. The Dragon Witch lay sprawled out on the ground, a deep wound in her side causing her breath to come in quick, pained gasps. 

Roman stood over her fallen body, and the red sunlight shining down on his silver breastplate made it look as if he was bathed in blood. His face was twisted in a terrible mix of fury and triumph, and he brandished his sword at his defeated foe, as though daring her to stand and challenge him again. 

She was in her dragon form, but as her wound spilled blood down onto the cobblestones, that body fizzled away, revealing the humanoid woman Logan had first met outside her lair. Her robes were torn and bloody and her face was deathly pale, but her eyes still blazed with a defiant fire as she stared up at her opponent.

“Any final words, Witch?” Roman asked in a steely voice.  

The Dragon Witch opened her mouth, but before she could speak, a high pitched cry rang out through the square.

“Stay back!” 

Maddie darted forward, putting herself between Roman and the witch’s body, gripping Dragon Witch’s staff tightly in both hands. The thing was nearly twice her height and she brandished it clumsily, but Roman still paused in his advance. 

“Out of my way, girl,” he said, but Maddie shook her head.

“I said back!” she insisted, shaking the staff towards him. 

“Run along now, little hero,” the Dragon Witch coughed, reaching weakly towards the girl as if to pull her back. “Your part is done.” 

Maddie shook her head again, and Roman frowned. 

“I won’t tell you again. Stand. Down,” he said coldly. 

Maddie shifted her feet and gripped the staff more tightly, but she did not move, and Roman sighed, raising his sword. 

“Enough!” Logan shouted before he could bring the blade down.

Roman looked up, his eyes flashing with hatred as they landed on his three fellow sides. Logan’s confidence faltered as the full force of that glare landed on him and he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. 

What if it doesn’t work? What if it’s not enough? I have no more tricks up my sleeve…if this plan fails, then what are we going to do?

Logan’s racing thoughts were pulled to a stop with a sudden, simple touch. He looked down and saw that Patton had stepped forward and intertwined their fingers. The moral side glanced up at him and nodded, a slight waver in his smile the only sign betraying his own nerves. Virgil stepped up beside them, locking eyes with Logan as he wordlessly took Patton’s other hand. An understanding passed between them, and Logan smiled, giving Patton’s hand an encouraging squeeze. He looked back to the square, and took a deep breath.“Enough, Roman!” he repeated, his voice steady and strong. “This ends now!” 

— — —

AN: So I know that LAST time I updated I said I wanted to update the fic more and then almost 5 years passed, but I can say with confidence that THIS YEAR chapter 10 at least will be released, if not the entire end of the fic (I won't actually know whether the conclusion takes one or two chapters to write until I, you know, write it, but it's outlined, I promise). I've been trying to finish this story for so long, and I know it looks like nothing happened between these updates, but rest assured, I thought about this story and how much I wanted to finish it often during these past few years. Thank you so much for being patient with me, and thank you to anyone who still has stuck around to read this, even after all this time. I love each and every one of y'all <3

(If you were on the Our Own Villain taglist, I will be tagging you in a reblog, tagging has changed so much in four years that my taglist copy-paste doesn't even work anymore)

[ro-valerius]

Feral

She was disobeying orders, she knew, but sometimes, the scent of prey is too alluring to ignore...

Tofu glared at the shadow miacids as they circled around him. They were a lot bigger than the wolves that the beast woman had set on Virgil, but they were fewer in number. He wondered if the number she could summon and the size of the beast were connected somehow, but he didn’t have time to think about it as one of them lurched up onto its hind legs and swiped down at him. He jumped back out of the way and pivoted to dodge another set of claws. 

One of the beasts lunged forward, jaws wide to bite down. He raised his arm to block, but regretted it immediately as he suddenly remembered that his bracers had been badly damaged and were no longer usable. The teeth sank into his arm, tearing in deeply. He winced and brought his knife to the creature’s throat. It dug in, but didn’t slide across as easily as the wolves. The miacid reeled back with a cry, but didn’t fade away like he had expected. Tofu backed away, looking around at the miacids that paced before him, five in total. 

As two darted towards him, he wove between them, gunning for the one he had already attacked. It bared its teeth at him and rose up on its hind legs to bring its claws down on him. He put on a burst of speed, ducking under the claws and burying his knife to the hilt in its chest. He put his weight into dragging his knife through the shadow creature until it came undone, fading away in a swirl of dark mist. 

Instinctually, he pivoted aside to avoid another set of claws, his knife swooping through the air and catching the creature in the side. As he forced his knife through the inky dark body of the beast, he winced at the all-too-familiar feeling of stitches snapping across his shoulder. He couldn’t dwell on it as the miacid disintegrated under his knife. He turned to face the remaining three monsters as they snarled at him and charged. He managed to cut down the first two, but was forced back in the process. His foot hit the railing behind him. He spared a glance down, noting an estimated thirty foot drop to the layer of road below; the Goblet did so love its multiple layers…

The glance was enough of a distraction for the remaining miacid as it barreled towards him, knocking them both over the edge. By some combination of luck and skill, he maneuvered the beast between himself and the ground, landing on it harshly as his knife dug into its skull. As it dissipated beneath him, he felt a pressure on his back as something pinned him to the ground; a person, he realized. The adrenaline helped him push aside the pain as their weight pressed heavily on his injury. He went to push himself up, but only got to his knees before he felt the stinging pain of binding magic holding him in place. 

The beast woman circled him with an easy smile on her face, confident, but wary. He watched her with each pass in front of him, his eyes narrowed as he struggled against the spell. With the struggling came waves of more increased pain, though not anything he hadn’t felt before, and by far not the worst. 

“Finally come to face me, beast woman?” he growled through clenched teeth.

“My name is Nhagi Lyehga. At least have the decency to learn that much, Tofu Curry. And my older sister you killed, her name was Khuja. My younger sister, Batu. Not that it matters, you’ll be dead soon enough. But first…let me repay you a fraction of the pain you’ve caused me,” the woman, Nhagi, said, and though she came across as coy, her face held a dangerous glint to it. 

She approached him with unhurried steps, leaning down and lifting his chin with one finger, the claw of her gauntlet digging into his jaw as she trailed her finger up the length of it. Not enough to draw blood, no. The blood would come later. 

“I hear you had a rough go of it on that ship. Come now, let me see~” she purred, using the metal claws to tear his shirt down the front from neck to waist and moving around behind him to pull it down over his shoulders and down his arms. 

She reveled in the sight of the small spots of blood already peeking through the bandages from the broken stitches. In a similar fashion to the shirt, she tore the bandages as well, a sadistic smile spreading across her face at the sight of his still-mending injury - stitched from shoulder to hip diagonally across his back. Nhagi leaned forward, placing her lips near his ear as she reached around and stroked his face almost gently. 

“My my, haven’t I just been gifted a treat~! I do hope you don’t pass out too soon, I have so much pain to repay you~!” she cooed. His only response was a growl, low in his throat. She patted his face in a way that could have been taken as playful in any other situation. “Cute. Now simmer down while I teach you the feeling of my heart.”

She took his knife from his hand, almost easily with the binding spell holding his fingers in place, and straightened up, pressing the blade to the top of the injury until not only stitches broke, but so too did the healing skin beneath. A gasp of pain escaped him, but he clenched his jaw shut as she trailed the blade down, tracing the existing injury slowly. When he received the injury initially, he almost hadn’t felt it with how quickly it had happened. But this tracing of it, this slow, torturous crawl of the blade, was almost excruciating. It took everything in him to not cry out, to not give her what she wanted from him.

It seemed practice would have to wait. Now was time for the real thing. One advantage to being small was that Moxxie could travel relatively quietly. Upon catching sight of the attack, Moxxie began to creep close, laying low as she crept through lawns. She kept a watchful eye on the sight as she scaled up a fence, holding her breath while she waited for the right moment. 

The woman leaned down to torture with a blade, and Moxxie saw an opening. She pounced from the fence, aiming to drop down on the woman as she drove down the lance with her. If she were an ordinary woman, mayhaps she would have been taken off guard, but she had eyes in the shadows, watching, waiting, warning. Easily, the beast tamer jumped back, avoiding the lance as it crashed into the cobblestone instead. 

“Well well well~! Just the little runt I was hoping to see. Two birds and one stone and all~!” she said with a confident smile. 

Moxxie briefly staggered, gritting her teeth as she caught her balance. Her grip tightened around the lance, a faint growl sounding from her as she pulled it from the stone.

“Get your birds somewhere else, hag. His life is mine to take. And you are cheating,” Moxxie snarled, squaring her stance as she kept herself standing between Tofu and the mage. She let out a yell as she burst forward, driving the lance towards the woman’s abdomen. The woman smirked.

“Now now, ‘hag’ is quite impolite! Call me Nhagi, or nothing at all~” she purred as she sidestepped the lance, grabbing it with one hand while her other hand reached up to grab Moxxie’s face harshly, metal claws of her gauntlets digging into the young au ra’s flesh. 

Her expression faded as suddenly, the rabbit was no longer where she left him, and in the same instant as that realization, his hand was around her face, her mask knocked off center so that one blue eye glared at him in defiance. She noted the blood dripping from his mouth and tried once more to smirk.

“You fought the spell for this little thing? And look where that got you!” she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. The only response she received from him was a low, animalistic growl. 

In a swirl of void magics, she teleported a few feet back, out of his grip that had almost crushed her skull. With each of her movements, he followed, reaching out to grab her again, a look in his eyes that held no trace of humanity; he was as a feral beast, pushed past his breaking point by pain and panic and the desire to protect the child he had promised to keep safe.

“I see. My sister’s killer wasn’t a person after all. You’re a monster,” she said, moving herself to the railing he had originally fallen from. 

“And you’re a cowardly bitch!” Moxxie hollered, swinging the lance back and hurling it up towards the woman. She could only grit her teeth as she watched the lance fall back down to the ground without contact. Nhagi spread her hands in an almost welcoming gesture.

“Well, now, this has been fun. But I have already disobeyed orders today, and it would be foolish to remain now that there is something here he finds more worth protecting than himself. See you around, kid~” she said, disappearing into a swirl of void magics once more. 

Tofu took a few steps towards her, as if he could stop her, but as the rage within dissipated, he dropped to his knees, breathing heavily. The butterfly that the curse breaker had left with him fluttered over and landed on his chest, taking on the excess aether from the spell.

Moxxie glared at where the woman had been standing before. She huffed quietly through her nose, rubbing her cheek with one hand. That mage – she mentioned a familiar name. Moxxie’s eyes lowered to the fallen lance, memories from the ship stinging with her pride. She marched over to the weapon, picking it up once more. As she leaned down, her gaze wandered back to the injured viera on his knees.

She strode over to Tofu, pressing the pointed end of the lance against his throat.

“I need you to promise me something,” Moxxie said, glaring down at Tofu with a fire in her eyes – but she didn’t quite meet his gaze. He looked up at her, taking the lance in one hand and moving it aside almost gently and pulling her forward a little. With her closer, he reached up and brushed his fingers against the pinpricks on her cheek, a look of guilt across his features.

“You got hurt. I’m sorry…” he whispered. 

If he registered her words, he didn’t show it. It was as if all he saw was the blood on her face, and then his mind was in the past, on the woman he held until her final, shuddering breath. He was a man of his word, and yet, he let the kid get hurt. If M’ezzo could see him now, would she be disappointed in him?

Moxxie flinched back and shoved his hand away. She squinted at him in disbelief. How could he act like this now, when just moments ago, he was a picture of malevolent rage? She simply didn’t understand it. Any of it. Her face relaxed, and she relented with a faint scoff.

“Yeah, well. You should’ve seen me the time I got too close to the liquor cabinet,” Moxxie said, dryly. She slid the lance back into a harness affixed to her back. 

“Don’t get yourself killed by her,” Moxxie said, as she reached a hand out now, perhaps an offer to help him up, or perhaps some offer of a hand shake. “But… I also don’t want you killing her.”

He reached out and took her hand, eyes still distant. Moxxie gave his hand a brief shake, then pulled to help him up. With a brief moment of surprise, he allowed her to help him to his feet. With shuffling steps, he walked over to where his torn shirt lay crumpled on the stone, picking it up and sliding it up his shoulders like a jacket. 

“Hey, Moxxie…is it still revenge if I killed her sister out of self defense? If she came at me for no reason other than because Tuturoko hired her, and I was left with no choice…?” he asked softly.

Moxxie’s brows twisted. Considering what she knew now about Tuturoko and Tofu’s past, it conflicted with her own emotions surrounding the loss of her family. She didn’t know how to answer Tofu’s question. 

“That’s something you need to figure out yourself, don’t ask me that stuff,” Moxxie responded, simply. She glanced over to Tofu, expression tensing as she noted his still healing injuries. How had he done all of that in his condition –  now, and when they were attacked twice before? She scrunched her nose up in frustration and looked away.

“We can forgo sparring. I got my practice today. I know you won’t stick to bed rest ‘cuz you’re dumb, so you might as well just go with your friends. Heard ‘em planning on going to the market or something…” she trailed off a moment, kicking a pebble on the ground. 

“Can you get me somethin’?” she asked, her voice in a faint mumble at the request. Tofu offered her a weak smile. 

“Yeah. Yeah I can get-” His voice trailed off as he stumbled, dropping to his knees again. His vision swam as he stared at the ground below him. Ah. Right. Bleeding. The adrenaline had worn off, and he felt it all at once, a murmured “fuck” escaping his lips. 

Moxxie gave a little gasp of alarm when he fell again. Ah, of course, he was injured. She had forgotten he wasn’t exactly close to invincible. Wordlessly, she leaned down and hooked an arm under his shoulder.

“Come on. Leaving you here would be stupid,” she said, handing him her lance to use on his other side for support. She sure as hell wouldn’t be able to carry him if he passed out, so she might as well try to get him closer to the house before that happens – at least try and close the distance. 

He tried to look at her, his eyes darting around as they tried to figure out which of her was the real one. He couldn’t make sense of the kid. She wanted him dead, but here she was, helping him again. She could just leave him, and be done with it all. He didn’t understand why. He tried his best not to lean on her too heavily as they walked; she was still a young kid after all. 

“I’m sorry… you keep getting dragged into this…” he managed between pained gasps. 

Moxxie didn’t understand her actions, either. There was a lot that she didn’t understand right now. But it looked like – at least, in this moment – she wanted him alive. 

“Shut up, focus your energy on walking… and breathing,” she mumbled, her eyes set on the house as she continued to walk him over.

“Hey! Anybody! Get your butts out here and help!” Moxxie cupped one hand as she yelled out. 

The door to the Flower House opened and a curious pink miqo’te head popped out, looking around. She saw the young au ra half-carrying Tofu and gasped, rushing over and hooking his other arm around her shoulders. She looked at the au ra and tilted her head as if to ask what happened, nodding at Tofu briefly to help indicate inquiry.

Moxxie squinted as a small miqo’te darted out, one she didn’t recognize yet. Just how many people were staying at this house.

“I… uh… this mage named Nhagi kicked his ass,” she said as Ying looked to her. 

Ying’s eyes flickered over to Tofu’s chest at the word ‘mage’ and she reached out, resting her hand over where the sigil normally shone through during bouts. Tofu tried to smile at her. Ying signed quickly with one hand, a pout on her face.

“H-hey! I’m not…” he grumbled.

Moxxie tilted her head up and gave a questioning glance. However, she didn’t say anything – she was set on getting him back inside and removing herself from this mess. She kept her eyes straight ahead. As they reached the doorsteps, Tofu looked down at Moxxie. 

“You don’t…have to come in, if you’d rather not. Ying’s pretty strong, she can take it from here,” he offered softly. Ying offered a reassuring smile. 

Moxxie paused, giving Tofu a look of uncertainty. She unwrapped an arm from him and stepped back to let Ying and the others take care of the rest. However, she didn’t sit around outside. Moxxie walked in ahead of the two of them and went to take a seat in the kitchen. Ying leaned Tofu against the wall for a moment while she dragged one of the other chairs to the middle of the room before making her way back to him and getting him settled. She gave a gesture of ‘wait’ and ran up the stairs. A few moments later, she returned, a sleepy looking Blomma following behind. 

Upon catching sight of Tofu, all tiredness in Blomma’s face was erased. She made her way over quickly, lifting up his arm and inspecting the bite marks there. She noted that his shirt was torn and pulled it back off of him, gasping slightly at the sight of his wound, fully reopened. 

“Ying, get my kit, please,” she said, and though her tone was calm, there was an urgency about it. Ying nodded and did as instructed, holding the kit open for Blomma as she rummaged around for what she needed.

Blomma set about first cleaning up the blood from the bite wound, noting just how deep it was; she was pretty sure she could see bone on one side. Once the blood was cleared, she stitched it closed, eyes flickering to Tofu’s face. He was so out of it he didn’t even flinch. She wrapped it with bandages to keep it from bleeding more and set his arm carefully in his lap before moving around behind him. 

Her eyes narrowed as she examined the wound. Every stitch had been cut through, and the still healing flesh beneath had been sliced open anew. She sighed heavily though her nose and cleaned up the blood from his back once more. It wasn’t as deep as it was when it first happened, but progress had still been set back. With a clearer head, she stitched his injury one more time, her hands more steady than the first time by far. As she started wrapping his torso again, she glanced at Moxxie, who had come in with them and settled for once. 

“Well, good news is that it’s not as deep as it was the first time. It won’t take as long to heal back to the state it was in before this little incident. You were…there? Can you tell me what happened?” she asked softly. Tofu tried to look up at Moxxie, tried to shake his head ‘no’, but he felt like he was deep within a fog. 

Moxxie remained seated in the kitchen with her eyes set ahead. She pulled her feet up on the chair with her legs to her chest, chin resting on her knees. She hugged herself close and drifted into her thoughts – up until Blomma addressed her. Her gaze settled on Tofu, noting the shaking of his head, before she looked back to Blomma.

“He gets attacked all the time. What’s there to tell?” she remarked, shrugging her shoulders. Moxxie sighed and slipped off the seat, stretching as she stood tall. “I’m going back to the ship.”

“This wasn’t just an attack. There was something…vindictive about the way it followed the exact mark. This was deliberate,” Blomma said before Moxxie could leave. 

Moxxie gave a heavy sigh, making no attempt to stifle it.

“Well, people are usually vindictive when you kill their sisters, yeah? It’s what I heard. Anyways, she’s got big shadowy monsters and wears a mask. Probably ‘cuz her face is messed up. Or she’s just ugly. You done interviewing me now?” Moxxie filled Blomma in with an unenthused side eye. Blomma gave her a flat look.

“Sorry for putting you out, princess, but this is my brother. Of course I want to know what happened to put him in this sort of state. But please, do leave if you’re so disinclined to be here,” she remarked dryly.

“And I told you what happened. See ya,” Moxxie said as she continued to the door. 

For a moment, she glanced over her shoulder. Despite the disdain in her expression, a certain softness lingered in her gaze. She couldn’t let them see it, but she wanted to be sure everything was okay. And it looked like it would be. She continued out the door with a halfhearted wave. 

[skymaiden32]

Bad News

AO3 link here

Fandom: Thunderbirds, Stingray

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn @idontknowreallywhy (Please ask if you would like to get alerts when I update or post new stories.)

Continuity: TOS

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Gordon and Trench come face-to-mask.

------

Fake base located and other family members quelled for the time being, the three brothers lay in wait among the shrubbery of the little island they were on, munching on some rations from Thunderbird 2’s hold. The Thunderbirds themselves had been hidden to the best of their ability, only Thunderbird 1’s bright silver being truly visible through the leaves. As they waited, the conversation from earlier picked up speed again.

“So, if Commander Shore working it out wasn’t what spooked you so much, Gordon…” Scott, ever the big eater, chomped on his protein bar. “What was?”

“Yeah, we were there in the room with you. Nothing else he said was too out of the ordinary.”

Gordon sighed. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about telling them this. “You know how he said Stingray was down a crew member?” His brothers nodded. “That’s what I’ve been worried about. Shore told me that ‘Betrayal never comes from an enemy’. The reason he said that is because the crew member, whoever it was, went rogue. Abandoned the WASPs. Quite possibly joined Titan.” The aquanaut shrugged, acting more nonchalant about the whole thing than he felt. This whole thing had been his exact nightmare since the war with Titanica had begun. “He couldn’t tell me the full thing, so he was speaking in code.”

Scott and Virgil’s eyes lit up in recognition. Of course, it all made sense now. “And…” Scott started. “You think whoever it is will come here to meet you?”

“Why not just kill me if that’s not the case?” Gordon answered honestly. “Why use a tracker instead of a missile?” He held up the tracker itself, a small aquamarine light on it flickering. “Everyone on that crew are smart. It stands to reason that whoever’s defected just uses those smarts for another cause now.” He sighed, looking down. “The wrong cause…” 

Unbeknownst to him, his brothers exchanged a look. “Whatever happens, we’re here for you.” Scott whispered, and the three Tracy’s looked out to the waves.

Gordon looked up at them, smiling gratefully. “Thanks, guys.”

Ahead of them, the waves slowly and steadily receded as low tide began, almost lulling them to sleep. “When do you think these Aquaphibians will get here? I’d quite like to sleep at a reasonable time tonight.” Virgil sighed.

“How about right now?” An artificial voice behind them answered him, waking all three of them up instantly. A quick look behind them confirmed it. Five figures stood menacingly, clearly having been waiting for the right moment. Gordon immediately took notice of what the centre figure wore. He wore a fully aquamarine coloured uniform, at least Gordon assumed they were a ‘he’ based on their overall build, the boots a somewhat darker shade and seaweed that wrapped around his leg. On his hip, a teal scabbard held a sword with a silver hilt, with a golden seashell at the very end. The mask on his face confirmed his Aquaphibian allegiance, but he was clearly human. And clearly the one in charge. “Get them, boys.” He ordered, pointing at the three IR operatives.

“Move!” Gordon ordered, his WASP training kicking in. He delivered a swift kick to the Aquaphibian that was about to pounce on him, watching in satisfaction as the sea-dweller fell to the ground, unconscious. He risked a look at his brothers. Scott was also putting his military experience to good use, and also had a knocked-out Aquaphibian in front of him. Virgil, unlike his brothers, had no military background, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to defend himself. “Go for the gills!”

The leader of the undersea group watched as the three of them continued to incapacitate the forces he’d brought with him. Soon, International Rescue had finished taking out the Aquaphibians, and he stepped back as the trio walked towards him, the pilot of Thunderbird 4 just a couple of feet forward from the others. As they glared at him, he smirked at them, although they couldn’t see that. 

“Oh, Gordon.” He sighed, robotic voice still hiding his true identity from his old friend. It didn't matter, the aquanaut would learn who he was soon enough. “You should know better than to turn your back on your allies.” Gordon gasped, spinning around quickly, but not quick enough to save Scott and Virgil from getting tackled by two hidden Aquaphibians. And this time, now that the sea-dwellers had their fins on them, there was no way out. Gordon could’ve cursed. He knew he shouldn’t have dragged them into his business. “Or should I just come out with what I know and call them your brothers?” Gordon’s stun gun was on the enemy in front of him in a flash. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. My men are very…” Guns cocked behind him. And the aquanaut knew they weren’t aiming at him. “Trigger-happy...”

He had no choice. He threw his gun down, even as his brothers behind him protested the move. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“In Titanica, they call me Captain Trench.” He took a bow, eyes still on the angry IR operative in case he tried anything. “Second-in-command of the Aquaphibian army, right-hand of His Majesty. Mighty King Titan, and ex-WASP.” He huffed. “Although I do hope I can drop that last part from my introduction someday.” 

Gordon scoffed. “And who are you really?”

Captain Trench chuckled. A tinny sound that grated on Gordon’s eardrums and frayed his nerves. “You’ll find out soon enough.” He gave his subordinates keeping a tight hold of the other Tracy’s a nod. “Take the prisoners to the sub while I… catch up with my old friend…”

“I swear Trench, if you hurt them-”

“You’re in no position to demand things of me.” Captain Trench almost hissed, but did his best to keep his tone neutral. “As long as you cooperate, your family will be unharmed and returned to you once our little chat is over. Consider it an assurance for me that you won’t rip me to shreds once my men have left.”

Gordon huffed, taking one last look at his brothers before they were carted off in different directions. They both offered a silent promise that neither of them could say out loud with the Aquaphibians clinging to them. They would be alright. “Fine.” The aquanaut stared warningly at his new enemy, and alleged old friend. “But if your slimy excuses of men lay even a single finger on them, I will retaliate.” He watched as his family disappeared further into the undergrowth.

“Ironic, coming from a man so dedicated to preserving lives.” Trench commented. 

“Once you attacked us and took my brother’s hostage, all bets were off…” He shot back.

Trench nodded. “Fair enough.” He gestured to the beach in front of them. “Shall we?”

“Let’s.”

[luckyduckydyke]

The Seer: Part 2

Part 1

Art by @creative-lampd-liberties

AO3

12: The Killers

It was as the group was setting up to sleep that Janus froze. He was in the woods, watching himself and the others get ready to bed down for the night. He felt a bow in his hands.

He snapped back to reality, then shushed everyone quickly. All chatter stopped. Janus looked at Roman and nodded towards the spot where he was sure he had just been, that someone was watching them from.

Virgil heard something from the opposite direction. “There’s more,” he hissed.

Then they all heard a twig snap in another direction. Virgil put up a barrier around them just as an arrow flew out of the woods. It bounced off the barrier and hit the ground.

Thomas narrowed his eyes, peering at the woods around the clearing for hiding spots that may be in use. He didn’t need to, though, because people began emerging from the woods all around them.

There were about fifteen of them in total. Some carried bows, some wicked-looking knives, and some swords. There was a crossbow and a whip somewhere in that mix, too.

A man stepped forward. He wielded a staff from which Janus could feel power emanating. He raised the staff and fired off a blast toward the shimmering purple barrier.

When it hit, Virgil grunted and grit his teeth.

Patton and Logan both looked at him in concern.

Thomas gripped the hilt of his sword, while Remy reached for his dagger.

Roman unsheathed his shortsword quickly and instinctively moved toward the man with the staff, while Remus eyed another man, shorter than the others and smug-looking. He held no weapon, and instead his arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned against a tree. There were several weapons hanging from his belt, though.

A moment of stillness passed before the man with the staff blasted more power at Virgil’s barrier, a sustained arc of blue lightning. Virgil gasped and staggered, and Logan rushed to support him, holding on to him tightly. After wavering for a moment, Virgil’s barrier glowed brighter. Then the staff-wielder increased the power of his attack, and the barrier sputtered out.

It took less than a second for the clearing to erupt into chaos, weapons being drawn and fights being initiated. Blades clashed, and arrows flew.

Roman cried out, and Janus turned to see him clutching his shoulder, then found himself pinned to the ground with a knife to his throat. He glared at the woman leaning over him, and she sneered back.

The next thing Janus knew, the bandit was gone, and he looked over to see Roman wrestling her on the forest floor. The bandit that had injured Roman’s shoulder was coming for them quickly, so Janus stuck his foot out to trip them. They fell hard and hit their head on a rock. Janus’s attention returned to Roman and the other bandit just in time to see Roman punching her in the face over and over. Roman’s sword and the bandit’s knife were on the ground nearby.

Janus sat up, grabbed his cane, and snatched the knife before scrambling to his feet. He looked around. Thomas was holding his own, as were Remus, Remy, and Logan. Virgil was practically pinned between Remy and Logan, though he had a hand on the hilt of his rapier and was firing off spells. Logan appeared to be chastising him. Then Janus spotted Patton.

Patton was fighting his hardest with the large knife that Remus and Roman had made sure he had, but he was being forced further and further back toward the treeline by three bandits. Janus loped toward them, too filled with adrenaline to let his limp slow him down more than a little. He stumbled, but righted himself quickly and stayed up.

He jammed the knife into one bandit’s back and pulled it out quickly.

The bandit fell.

Patton and Janus met eyes over the bandit’s body.

Something sharp was suddenly at Janus’s collarbone, which had been uncovered in the fight by his clothes becoming ruffled. A body pressed against his back. “I ought to kill you for that,” a rough but high voice said. Janus inhaled shallowly and let it out slowly.

Patton took an instinctive step forward, but stopped when the sword against Janus’s chest pressed harder and Janus winced. A drop of blood ran down the inch between the sword and the collar of Janus’s shirt, staining the fabric there a darker black. Janus stared at Patton with wide eyes.

The person moved away and removed the sword before kicking Janus in the back of his bad leg, causing him to fall to the ground. “Stay down,” the rough voice said.

The two remaining bandits near them cornered Patton and forced him to his knees next to where Janus was on his hands and knees. Janus stared at the ground underneath him, breathing heavily.

When he heard Thomas yell angrily, Janus finally looked up, only to be kicked in the side by one of the two bandits. He looked up from where he now lay on his side, and found that the others had been cornered and disarmed, weapons on all sides of them. The staff-wielder held Virgil tightly, and the man with many, many weapons hanging from his belt stood looking at him.

“How fortunate,” said the rough voice. “We’ve hit it rich, friends! Do you know who this is?”

There was silence.

The man reached out. “Hello, little prince. What are you doing all the way out here?” He touched Virgil’s cheek. Virgil spat at him.

The man wiped the spit from his cheek, unnervingly calm, then struck Virgil across the face, fast as lightning. Virgil’s head snapped to the side, and he breathed heavily. He spat blood onto the ground.

“Leave him alone!” Logan cried.

The man sneered at him. “How cute,” he said dryly. “Someone has a little schoolboy crush. Oh, well. Everyone except our prize here will have to die anyway.”

“Don’t,” Virgil said softly, just enough for Janus to make it out.

“Oh, don’t make so much of it. I won’t kill them yet. They could still prove useful,” the man said. He made a gesture.

Janus felt a sharp pain on the side of his head, then everything was black.

-

Janus blinked himself awake, his head pounding and his vision swimming.

“Jan?” he heard. “Janus, are you okay?”

Was that… Roman? “Yes?” Janus said. What he heard come out was, “Nnh?”

“Is he awake?” Patton asked, sounding very worried.

“’M awake,” Janus answered, with a fair bit of effort.

Patton breathed a sigh of relief. Janus thought Roman did too, but probably not.

Janus forced his eyes open the rest of the way. They were all tied up, all seven of them. Seven? He counted again, then his eyes widened. They were missing Virgil.

They all had their hands tied behind their backs, but not to anything. They were in a tent. Logan’s head was hanging. Thomas had his eyes closed. Meditating, maybe? Remy glared forward. Patton looked at Janus worriedly. There were two other people in the tent, facing them. The staff wielder and the woman Roman had punched. A lot. Her eye was black, her lip was split, and she was glaring at Roman. Roman was ignoring her, looking at Remus instead. Remus raised an eyebrow. Roman nodded slightly.

Remus and Roman hopped to their feet without need of their hands. Janus watched, stunned, as they barreled toward the staff-wielder and the other bandit. The staff-wielder managed to put out a hand, and Remus bounced off a wall of force. Meanwhile, Roman ran full force into them both. He managed to catch them both off-guard, and he knocked them back.

“Emile, now,” Thomas said.

The ropes around everyone’s wrists loosened at once. Janus pushed himself up, only to be caught by Remy when his leg gave out, his cane nowhere to be found. Patton sprang up to support him at his other side.

Roman and Remus both came down hard on the bandit woman, wrestling away her knife and forcing her down, and Thomas rushed to incapacitate the mage, grabbing his sword from behind the woman and the staff-wielder, then hitting him over the head with the hilt of his sword. He swiftly did the same to the woman.

“Let’s go,” Logan said, and they all looked to him. He held the mallet that was intended for hammering down stakes to attach the tent to the ground.

Janus shrugged off Patton and Remy, and Roman shot him a concerned look.

They all grabbed their weapons, Janus both his knife and cane, and they went to one side of the tent, where Logan peeked through a gap in the tent canvas.

Roman placed a hand on Janus’s arm, and Janus gave him a confused stare.

Roman looked into his eyes, and Janus felt his face warm up. He prayed it didn’t show.

Roman nodded slightly. “You’re still dizzy, right? I hope you’re not hurt too bad.”

Janus frowned. “I’m fine.”

“Nope,” Roman said. “You’re staying close to me.”

“You don’t need to protect me,” Janus insisted.

“Just let me help,” Roman hissed.

“I’m not helpless!” Janus hissed back.

Logan shushed them. “The path is clear for now. Knock out any bandits you come across, so that they don’t alert the others. Find Virgil. Let’s do it.” He walked out of the tent sneakily. The rest of them followed.

Janus carried his cane, so as not to make any more noise than necessary.

Despite his annoyance, or even anger, at Roman, he did stay close to him. Roman checked often. Remy and Patton shared a look after Remy gestured his head questioningly at them. Patton shrugged.

One after the other, they clubbed bandits over the head. Mostly Logan, Remus, and Roman.

Finally, one let out a yell. Logan swore, at which Remy and Patton both looked especially surprised.

They all fought harder, more ferociously, as one bandit came after the other. Janus wasn’t sure how many were just unconscious and how many were dead. He thought of the bandit he’d stabbed before, in the clearing. He hadn’t seen him again.

Finally, it seemed like things had died down. “We have to find Virgil,” Logan said, pushing onward despite how exhausted he seemed. Janus noticed blood dripping down his leg from a gash in his pants.

“Logan,” Patton tried.

“I’ll rest when we find him,” Logan snapped.

“Looking for something?” asked a rough voice that Janus had definitely heard before. The group whipped around to find the apparent leader of the bandits holding Virgil tightly, a knife pressed to his throat hard enough for a droplet of blood to run down to his collar. The bandit was sneering at them, rage written all over his face. “I should’ve killed you lot when I had the chance.”

Virgil’s eyes were wide and fearful, and his face was bruised in a couple places. Logan glared back at the bandit with just as much anger, if not more.

“You probably should have, yeah,” Remus said. Patton shushed him.

Janus froze for a moment. For that moment, he thought he saw a snake climbing up the man’s leg.

The man held Virgil even tighter, and Virgil visibly held himself back from flinching.

“Leave, and he lives,” the man threatened.

“Just let him go,” Logan said, trying to compose himself. “We’ll be on our way when we have him back.”

The man pulled Virgil a step back. Janus watched with wide eyes as a rope snaked its way up the man’s leg, then up his side.

Logan appeared to have seen it too. “Don’t hurt him,” he begged. “Please…”

“I will if you don-”

The man was cut off as the rope tightened around his neck. It glowed purple, as did Virgil’s eyes. In his desperate struggle to regain air, the man let go of Virgil, who fell to his knees on the rough dirt. The glow of his eyes painted the dirt purple.

Logan rushed to Virgil, scooping him up to pull him away from the man who’d threatened his life. “It’s okay,” he soothed.

Virgil’s eyes still glowed. The rope tightened and tightened around the man’s neck until he stopped moving and his face was just as purple as the glowing rope. The glow abruptly vanished, and Virgil gasped for air.

Patton knelt next to Logan and Virgil, blocking Virgil’s view of the man. “Hey, Virge, it’s okay,” he murmured as Virgil attempted to calm his breathing. Logan pulled Virgil’s hand to his chest and took a deep breath for Virgil to imitate.

When Virgil was somewhat recovered, Logan having pressed many soft kisses to his scalp, and the group was less stunned, Roman spoke. “We need to get moving before anyone comes to. Can all of you walk okay?”

Logan went to stand, supporting Virgil, but he faltered when his leg oozed more blood, the gash having reopened. Thomas gently helped both Logan and Virgil stand, then scooped up Virgil, much to Logan’s chagrin. Roman offered Logan his arm, and Logan reluctantly took it.

“Let’s get somewhere safe, then regroup,” Roman said.

“Lemme heal you guys,” Virgil protested.

“No,” Logan answered immediately. “You’re tired. Rest first.”

They searched for the rest of their belongings, then once they had retrieved them, they left, in the direction Roman had determined the mountains were.

Janus was at the front with Roman, Logan, Thomas, and Virgil for a minute, then he fell back to talk to Remus and Patton. “Pat, are you okay?”

Patton nodded. “Yeah. They didn’t really hurt me that much, just twisted my arm and bruised my knees.” He smiled tiredly. “Are you alright?”

Janus nodded back. “And you, Re?”

Remus hummed. “I was hoping for a little more blood and gore, actually.”

Janus and Patton each made a face. “Gross,” Janus said.

In front of them, Remy nudged Thomas. “Are you alright?”

Thomas nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you hurt?” Remy rephrased.

Thomas glanced down at Virgil to make sure he was sleeping, as he’d drifted off shortly after they’d begun to walk. He lifted one arm, careful not to jostle Virgil. There was a gash in his side that he’d already secured clean cloth around, but he was bleeding through the dressing.

Remy’s eyes widened. “We need to take care of that,” he hissed.

“We need to get to safety first,” Thomas responded.

“You’re losing blood,” Remy insisted.

“What’s going on?” Logan asked.

“You and Thomas need medical attention, that’s what,” Remy snapped.

“We can stop soon,” Roman butted in. “Just a bit longer.”

Remy quieted, but his expression showed his dissatisfaction. He knew when to back down, though.

It was only as they began to stop and regroup that Janus let his leg go out. He knew he wouldn’t be able to lower himself carefully, so he fell back against a tree instead. Roman, having just gotten Logan situated next to Virgil, stepped over and gently pulled him back upright. Instead of the disdain Janus expected to see on his face, there was only concern.

“You’ve overworked yourself,” Roman said softly and helped Janus to sit before sitting next to him.

“Not like I had much of a choice,” Janus huffed.

Patton sat down on Janus’s other side, with Remus next to him.

“Maybe you and some of the others should go home,” Roman said, tone gentle and careful.

Janus’s face hardened. “I have to see this through,” he said. “The vision—I need to be by your side.”

Roman nodded grimly. “Alright. Just… please be careful.”

Janus paused. “I’m trying,” he finally responded.

Remus and Patton shared a knowing look.

13: The Father

Janus awoke to the sound of someone emptying the contents of their stomach. The pre-dawn light barely illuminated his surroundings. Roman and Remus were already sitting up, as was Remy, and the rest were slowly waking. He looked around to find out who was missing. “Patton,” he said finally. He and Remus met eyes, then jumped up to find Patton as quickly as possible.

They found him leaning heavily against a tree, wiping his mouth. He was sweaty and disheveled, but he smiled as much as he could when he saw them. There was something frightened in his eyes, though.

“What happened?” Remus asked, pulling Patton to him protectively.

Patton waved a hand. “I’m fine, must have just eaten something bad.”

Janus frowned. “We’ve all been eating the same things…”

Patton hummed. “My stomach is just being sensitive….”

Remus furrowed his brow. “If you’re ill…”

“I’m not,” Patton said.

“Are you sure?” Janus asked.

“Yes,” Patton insisted.

“How do you know?” Remus pressed.

“Because I’m pregnant!” Patton put both his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide. He had definitely said that loudly enough for all the others to hear.

Remus stared at Patton like he’d suddenly sprouted a new head out of each shoulder.

“Pat, that’s-” Janus began to say. Then Remus bolted, off back toward the spot where they’d slept. Janus and Patton stood there for a moment, stunned, then Patton burst into tears. Janus hugged him and began to guide them back towards camp.

When they arrived, Virgil held out his arms to Patton, and Patton practically fell into them, sobbing.

Roman grabbed Janus’s hand and began to pull him along. “We have to go get my brother,” Roman informed him.

Janus inhaled sharply. “I’d say to give him space, but time is of the essence…”

They followed the obvious path Remus had left, broken twigs and footprints in the dirt. Finally, Roman spotted him.

Remus was crouched with his back against a tree, hands clutching the sides of his head as he stared off into space.

Janus moved forward and lowered himself to the ground in front of him. “Talk to me, monster,” he said gently. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t be a father…” Remus ground out through clenched teeth.

“Oh, sure you can,” Janus said. “You’re a half-decent husband, why not a dad?”

“You don’t understand!” Remus snapped.

Janus glanced at Roman.

Roman chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, then plopped down next to Remus. “Look, Re. I’ve known you our whole lives, yeah?”

Remus was silent.

Roman pressed on, “You may be… crass, rude, disturbing-”

Janus cleared his throat.

“Right, uh…” Roman flushed. “Despite all that, you’ve always stepped up for the people you care about. Why would this be any different?”

Remus sniffled. “I’m… afraid.”

Janus nodded. “I’m sure Patton is, too. But we’ll be there to help, right, Roman?”

“Right,” Roman agreed. “Me and Janus, and I’m sure the others, too, we won’t abandon you. You’re not alone.”

Remus swallowed heavily. “Is Patton okay?”

Janus and Roman shared a look.

“Well, we should probably check on him,” Roman said. He stood, then helped Janus and Remus to their feet.

Remus practically ran back to the campsite, Janus and Roman lagging behind him. When Janus and Roman arrived, Patton and Remus were clinging to each other tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said, “I shouldn’t have run off… I was scared.”

“I’m scared, too,” Patton responded, sniffling softly.

“It’ll be okay,” Remus said. “Roman and Janus will be there. It’ll be okay.”

“Yeah,” Patton said. “It will be.”

-

Janus was really starting to get tired of walking. The mountains had been looming over them for hours, and they never seemed to be getting any closer.

Roman stopped. “There,” he pointed. A break in the trees. Rocky terrain. The group picked up their pace. Soon they were running, even Janus.

They breached the treeline, and there was the base of Pious Mountain. Janus froze again. There was a cave, about a quarter of the way around the mountain if they went right. He informed the others. He wanted to despair at the thought of more walking, but they were almost there.

After another hour, Roman spotted a cave. They began to run again, then Virgil cried out, “Stop!” Everyone froze.

Virgil crouched, picked up a rock about the size of his fist, straightened again, then threw the rock toward the cave. About four yards from the cave entrance, the rock fizzled away amid sparks of orange light. They all stared.

Janus saw Roman walk through the barrier, a gateway of orange light forming around him, then he blinked, and nothing had changed.

“Roman,” Janus said. When he had Roman’s attention, he asked, “Do you trust me?”

Roman frowned. “Why?”

“Because you need to just walk into the cave,” Janus answered.

Roman balked. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Trust me, Roman, please. I had a vision.”

Roman hesitated. “Come with me, then.”

Janus took only a second to decide. “It’s worth a try.”

“What?!” Patton exclaimed. “What if you get hurt, or worse?!”

Janus looked at Patton, keeping his expression calm. “We have to try, for everyone’s sake.”

Patton wilted at that. “Be careful,” he said softly.

Janus gave him his most reassuring smile. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

Roman walked toward the barrier, and Janus followed. They stopped before they got too close, feeling the buzzing energy in the air.

“I think our best bet is for me to carry you,” Roman said.

Janus tried to think of an alternative and came up short. His face was hot. “Fine.”

Roman gently scooped him up, hunched over him, and sprinted through the barrier.

Orange light crackled around them, but did not touch them. Then they were through. Janus took a shaky breath, and Roman looked incredibly relieved. He let Janus back down onto his own two feet gently. “Right,” Roman said. “I guess now we keep going.”

They steeled themselves, then stepped into the cave.

14: The Witch

It was dark, but very warm inside the cave. They paused.

“You brought a lanter-?” Roman began to ask, then torches along the wall lit up with crimson fire in pairs on either side down the passageway.

“Right,” Janus said. “That’s…”

“I’m choosing to believe that’s a good sign,” Roman said, raising himself up to his full height. “Let’s go.”

“Slowly,” Janus said. “Who knows what kinds of traps the duchess has down here…”

So the two continued cautiously. There were a few obvious traps that they avoided carefully, but soon they came to a fork in the path.

Roman turned to Janus. “Which way?”

“Why are you asking me? You’re supposed to be the hero here!”

“You’re the one who got us into the cave!”

“Fine, um…” Janus closed his eyes to concentrate. “I don’t know… Left?”

“You don’t sound very confident,” Roman pointed out.

“Well, I can’t make myself have a vision, can I?” Janus responded, voice rising slightly at the end.

“We’re going right,” Roman said.

“What, just because I said left?”

“No, because that’s the way it feels like we should go,” Roman snapped.

“Fine,” Janus snapped back and began to lead the way down the right passageway.

“Janus-” Roman began as he hurried after him.

Something sank underneath Janus’s foot, his left. He began to trip, and the floor disappeared in front on him. Before he could even think to be frightened, he was yanked back by the back of his shirt and found himself pressed tightly to Roman’s chest. His cane was no longer in his hand, and after a couple more seconds, they heard something shatter far below them at the bottom of the pit.

Janus took a shaky breath. “You, ah… You can let go of me now,” he said softly.

Roman backed up another step away from the pit, taking Janus with him, before finally releasing him. “I’m sorry about your cane,” Roman said.

“It’s replaceable,” Janus said dismissively.

“You were right,” Roman added. “We should have gone left.”

Janus just hummed. They turned back and went to the fork again before taking the other passageway. Janus had to steady himself against the wall, and when Roman offered help, he refused.

They only saw one trap this way, a tripwire which they stepped over.

Eventually they saw a doorway, a green glow coming from within. As they entered the room, Roman gasped. It was filled with glittering gold and shimmering gems, all with that green glow glinting off of their surfaces. The light was emanating from an object at the top of a pedestal in the center of the room.

Upon closer inspection when they made their way closer, this object was a simple hand mirror. It looked exactly like the one in Janus’s bag. Something dark seemed to come from within it, a creeping sense of dread, a paranoia.

“What now?” Roman asked.

“The mirror,” Janus said breathlessly. “You have to destroy it.”

Roman looked around, then picked up a ruby larger than his hand. He hefted it and, satisfied with its mass, brought it to the pedestal. He took the ruby in both hands, held it high, and brought it down on the mirror heavily.

It shattered.

A wraith-like screech ricocheted through the cage, and Roman and Janus both covered their ears. The cave began to rumble as the screech faded.

“We have to get out of here!” Roman yelled.

“Just run!” Janus answered. “I’m right behind you!”

Roman looked conflicted for a moment, then the cave shook harder. Instead of doing as Janus said, he instead picked him up, despite his wriggling and protests, and began to sprint back toward the cave entrance. He jumped over or ducked around each trap, even as gravel began to rain down around them. He dove through the cave entrance just before it was covered by a falling boulder, wrapping himself around Janus as he rolled with his momentum.

“Roman! Janus!” Patton’s voice cried.

Janus found himself extricated from Roman’s arms by Remus, then he was being brushed off and checked over by Patton. Roman was getting the same treatment from Thomas.

“What happened?” Logan asked.

“I broke the mirror,” Roman answered. “The Dragon Witch’s mirror.”

Janus stumbled forward into Patton. He was back in the ballroom. It was on fire, it was so hot, people were screaming and bleeding and dying and dead on the floor, there was a dragon. A huge, hulking red beast, and Roman was standing between her and Janus, sword drawn, blood dripping from his temple to his jaw. Janus tried to cry out, but he couldn’t.

“Janus, are you alright?” Roman asked urgently.

“We have to get back to the palace,” Janus answered immediately. “My vision, it’s still… The mirror, I think it just made her angry.”

“I can get us back,” Virgil said. “It’ll use up… a lot of energy.”

“No, Virgil,” Logan said. “That’s very risky.”

“I have to,” Virgil insisted. “My parents are in that palace. Valerie is in that palace. Our friends are there, good people!”

Logan hesitantly nodded.

Virgil took a deep breath. “I’m going to open a portal. You’ll all have to get through it as quickly as possible, I’ll go last.”

Logan opened his mouth to protest.

“Logan and I will go last,” Virgil corrected himself.

As soon as everyone was ready, Virgil opened his arms, and a portal opened, like a tear in the air itself. It swirled with purple energy.

The adventurers filed through, one at a time, but as quickly as possible. Logan and Virgil walked through last, sweat beading on Virgil’s forehead, then the portal closed with a sound like the air was being sucked out of the area around it.

15: The Hero

Andy stood in the ballroom, off to the side, trying to disappear into the background. He took comfort from the fact that Pryce was somewhere nearby. Their cover story had finally failed when Eschive had barged into Virgil’s room to demand that he attend the party. At least he didn’t spend enough time around his nephew to recognize that Andy was not actually said nephew. Eschive decided he looked well enough to come downstairs, so Andy got dressed in Virgil’s clothes, and he went downstairs. To a party. Where multiple people would see him. And realize he wasn’t the prince. And arrest him. And torture him. And execute him-

Pryce slipped his hand into Andy’s behind a pillar and squeezed gently before letting go. Andy took a deep breath. Right. It was okay. Because Pryce was here. And the makeup made him look more like Virgil, and he had the right haircut, and their voices sounded alike. It would be fine. 

“A wonderful party, isn’t it?” said a lilting voice. 

Andy snapped his head over to look, and there was Duchess Adalinda Draco in all her glory. She wore a maroon gown, and her neck and ears dripped with wine-colored jewels that glinted red in the light. A gold circlet inlaid with rubies adorned her gorgeous hair. There was a glass clasped in her delicate hand, full of a translucent yellow liquid. Her lips were painted the color of blood. Andy held back a shudder at the thought. 

“Your father has been so welcoming to me,” the duchess continued. “A going-away party is just the cherry on top, don’t you think?” 

Andy nodded a little. “It’s a wonderful party…”

“Isn’t it just?” Adalinda asked. As she stepped closer to approach him, she stumbled slightly, and just then, Andy noticed Eschive out of the corner of his eye. He was cornered. It was a trap.

Adalinda’s drink splashed all over him as Eschive caught her. Andy looked down to find his makeup running down onto his shirt. 

Eschive gasped loudly. “You’re not Prince Virgil! Guards! Seize him!” 

Andy stood, shocked, as multiple guards rushed towards him. Then Pryce was in front of him, backing him toward the wall to stand between him and anyone who might harm him. 

“There’s a perfectly good explanation,” he said calmly. 

The king and queen had stood from their chairs and were beginning to move toward the commotion. 

Suddenly, an ear-piercing shriek echoed through the ballroom. Most everyone in the room covered their ears as every glass in the room burst into shards.. They all looked toward the source of the sound to find Adalinda thrashing in Eschive’s arms. “Duchess Draco, what’s wrong?” Andy heard Eschive ask through the ringing in his ears. 

Adalinda lifted her head. Red scales speckled her face. The scleras of her eyes were pitch black, her irises crimson, and her pupils slitted. She glared at Andy and Pryce, then turned her head to the king and queen. 

The party guests all watched as more scales formed on her skin, as she grew in size, ripping her gown to shreds, as her face elongated into a snout, as her fingers stretched into talons, as wings burst forth from her shoulder blades. She shrieked again, this time from a mouth filled with several rows of sharp teeth and steaming spittle.

Then she breathed out a column of flames toward the ceiling. 

The fire caught and spread quickly, and the chandelier fell onto several people. There was screaming and wailing as the guests fled. 

“Andy, go!” Pryce commanded. 

“Not without you!” Andy answered stubbornly. 

Huge claws swung toward them, and Pryce drew his sword in a flash, catching them against the blade. “Andy!” he exclaimed. “Just listen to me!” 

Andy ducked under a table as the Dragon Witch raised her head again and spat more fire. Then he watched as her tail swung across the floor and hit Pryce head-on, knocking him to the ground. He didn’t move. Andy went to his side immediately. He didn’t care about anything other than getting Pryce away from there.

The sound of ripping filled the room, and Andy turned to see a purple portal in the center of the room. Out stepped each of the members of the adventuring party. Prince Virgil and Logan came last, and the prince slumped into Logan’s arms as soon as the portal closed.

Janus looked around quickly, surveying the scene. 

Roman, on the other hand, charged straight in, sword drawn. Thomas followed after him, though Janus could hear Remy protesting. The smell of burning flesh made Janus’s head spin. 

���Virgil!” someone called. Virgil, Logan, and Janus looked over just in time to see Valerie engulfed in flame. Virgil screamed.

When the flames receded there was nothing left. 

Eschive and the king and queen promptly met the same fate. 

Logan started to pull Virgil toward the door, and Patton rushed to help, but Virgil fought with all the strength he had left each step of the way. 

Janus looked up at the Dragon Witch. She looked back at him. “Come and get me, then,” Janus cried. 

The Dragon Witch ignored Roman and Thomas in favor of Janus. She swung her claws at him, barely catching his leg and leaving three large gashes and one smaller scratch there. He fell to the floor.

Then Janus watched as Roman’s sword separated the Dragon Witch’s head from her body. It hit the floor with a mighty thud, her body hitting the floor just moments later with an even louder one. 

There was silence for a few moments. Janus and Roman stared at each other with wide eyes.

Laughter. Someone was laughing. In a very familiar voice. Everyone turned to look at Remus, who was standing next to the Dragon Witch’s severed head. He laughed again. 

“Of course she couldn’t finish the job,” he said. A vicious smile split his face. “Useless. There’s still one left.” He turned his head to look at Virgil.

“Remus…” Roman began softly. “What are you talking about?” 

Remus turned his attention to Roman. “What do you mean? I’m the one pulling the strings, dumbass!” He stalked towards Virgil, and those not already with Virgil moved with him, trying to stay in his way. Janus couldn’t get to his feet, though. 

“It took me years to get that stupid witch strong enough to stage a coup, and she couldn’t even kill all the royals!” 

“Why?” Virgil asked softly, voice choked. 

“Because your great grandfather stole my true name!” Remus snapped. “And when you do that to a fae, you steal their life away! I was a slave to him for forty years, and then to your grandfather for another forty!” He sneered at Virgil. “And I swore revenge against their line.”

“What?” Roman asked, unable to get any other words out. 

“Keep up!” Remus said. “I’m a fae, the king stole my true name, I escaped, I meddled with Adalinda Draco’s magic… They punished me for that, my court. That’s how I ended up here. ” He made a disgusted face. “They were going to replace you,” he said, pointing at Roman, “with me. Luckily for you, Galena’s smarter than the idiot they sent to steal you away and leave me in your place.”

“Remus,” Patton spoke up. “This isn’t… This isn’t you!”

Remus sneered. “It is me, though, isn’t it? I’m not the person you met back then. I didn’t know who I was when I met you. Then I remembered, and here we are.” He turned his attention back to Virgil. “And all that’s left for me is to kill him.”

As Remus took a step forward, Patton stepped in front of Virgil, arms spread. “If you want to kill him, you’ll have to kill me first,” Patton said evenly. “Please, Remus… You can stop this now… Please.”

Remus took another step forward. “Careful what you wish for, Patty-cakes.”

Janus could see it in his mind’s eye, Remus sending a blast of green energy from his hand. The energy hitting Patton. Patton falling. So he moved.

Janus sprang to his feet and launched himself to be in between Patton and Remus, fueled by only adrenaline as his leg screamed out in protest. 

It only felt cold where Remus’s attack hit him. He fell back to the floor, dazed. Patton fell to his knees at his side and began desperately trying to keep him awake. He could only pay attention to Remus, though.

“Janus!” Roman cried. He stepped in next, sword raised. He quickly turned his attention to Remus, hyper-aware of the threat he posed. “Re, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been a horrible brother. I should’ve stood up to Father for you, and for Patton. I could’ve done right by you, and I didn’t. But I’m trying now. You can leave. You can run away, and no one other than us has to know this was you. If you just leave Virgil alone. Please.”

Remus stalked ever-closer, a dark look in his eyes. “I’ll kill you, too,” he told Roman.

Roman lowered his sword. “Then do it.”

Remus bared his teeth. “I’m not bluffing, Roman. Get out of my way!”

“No,” Roman answered. “I won’t.” 

Once again, Janus saw Remus attacking someone. This time it was Roman. He looked to his side. The mirror had fallen out of his satchel. There was a crack in the glass, vertically down the middle. 

“Remember to keep your mirror nearby!”

Janus grabbed the mirror, pushed himself up as far as he could, and tossed it to Roman. 

Roman caught it with his back turned, then looked at it, puzzled. Then he saw Remus lift his hand to attack again. He threw the mirror at Remus with all his might, somehow sure that was what he needed to do. 

They all heard the sound of glass shattering, but when the bright red light that filled the room faded, the mirror fell to the floor, intact and unbroken, with a series of soft clinks. 

Janus’s vision, once again, faded to black.

Epilogue

Roman cradled the mirror in his hands as he stepped into his home, which now felt incredibly unfamiliar. He was still covered in scratches, bruises, and worse. Grey was rushing toward him to check on him, but Roman spoke before he could get a word out. “I need to talk to my mother and father urgently. I’ll meet them in the study.”

The walk to the study was numb, empty. The portraits on the walls stared at him with disgust. He reminded himself of the court doctor’s assurances that Janus would survive. It would be okay. He looked down at the mirror. It wouldn’t be okay.

He sat down in the armchair in the corner of the study, looking around at the room as if he were seeing it for the first time. It was utilitarian, but it somehow still comforted him to be in this place that he’d often worked in from a very young age.

His father arrived first. “Good gracious, Roman, look at the state of you! Go clean yourself up.”

“I need to speak with you and Mother first, Father.”

There was silence for a few moments before Carine entered. “Roman! Are you alright, dear?!” She carefully knelt before him.

“I have something to tell you,” Roman said in lieu of an answer. He finally gained the courage to say it when he saw Galena sneak into the room. So he told them the whole story. From Remus’s grudge against the royal family to their adventure in the woods to the confrontation at the palace. He held out the mirror.

Though the duke looked at the mirror dispassionately, the duchess touched it and began to sob. Roman joined her in her tears, and once the duke left without a word, Galena came to them and hugged them both. Roman cried into the arms of both his mother and his nanny for hours.

-

Virgil held Patton tightly. They lay in Virgil’s bed in his chambers. Patton had finally stopped crying a while before, but he still occasionally shivered, despite the blankets wrapped around them. 

Virgil looked up as Logan entered the room, carrying a tray. He set it down on the bedside table, then he and Virgil worked together to get Patton into a sitting position. Logan sat down with them, then distributed the glasses of water and the jam thumbprint cookies from the tray. 

Patton sat between Virgil and Logan, and Virgil and Logan held him and held each other’s hands behind Patton’s back.

When Patton fell asleep, Logan moved the cups, Patton’s glasses, and his own glasses to the bedside table. He and Virgil snuggled up to Patton and fell asleep, too. They desperately needed a rest. 

-

“It was… hard on us all, Emile, but I worry about Patton, Janus, and Roman especially,” Thomas said. 

“All you can do is be there for them, Tommy,” Emile advised. “They all need friends right now, and you’re their friend. Be there when you can, and ask what they need occasionally.”

Thomas nodded. “You’re right…”

“Whatcha doin’?” a voice asked from the honeysuckle trellis archway that led into the center of the temple gardens. 

Thomas turned to see Remy standing there, dressed in his more stylish clothes he wore on his days off. “Talking to Emile,” Thomas answered.

Emile made himself visible to Remy and waved. 

Remy smiled and waved back before walking over to sit on the stone bench next to Thomas. “How’re you feeling, hun? That whole thing was… a lot.”

Thomas gave him a tense smile. “Really tired. I’ll be alright after some rest, so I’m taking a break from training. Or… Janus told me I had to, anyway, and I’m going to listen.”

Remy smiled more softly. “Good. One of the older servants is letting Logan and me take a break. Logan won’t step down as Virgil’s personal servant, but he’s accepted some help.”

Thomas nodded. “Good.”

Remy nodded back. “Yeah.” 

They both looked at the fountain in front of them, and noticed that Emile had disappeared. They still remained silent. Remy slipped his hand into Thomas’s. They rested.

-

Pryce opened his eyes blearily. He caught the coattails of Prince Virgil leaving the room, and he realized he wasn’t in any pain. He looked to his right.

Andy was sitting in a chair next to him, leaning against the wall and snoring softly. Pryce smiled fondly. He sat up and gently held Andy’s hand. He watched him sleep, taking comfort in the rise and fall of his chest, until he woke up and smiled sleepily at him. And Pryce smiled back.

-

Janus sat at his readings table, head in hands, staring at the table. The wood grain was not interesting enough to keep his thoughts from wandering to Remus.

He didn’t look up when the door opened, or when someone pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. 

“Mother and Father agreed to let Emile’s acolytes watch over the mirror,” said Roman. Janus just hummed in response. Roman sighed, sounding more tired than Janus had ever heard him. Then he set down a bottle heavily on the table. “Screw this, let’s drink.”

-

“I so saved your butt,” Roman slurred, pointing at Janus around the drink in his hand.

“Did not!” Janus responded in kind. “I had it all under control! Takes more than an angry bandit to kill me!”

“Admit it!” Roman cried. “You need me around.”

Janus paused for a moment, looked down at his drink, looked back up at Roman. “I do,” he said softly.

“Huh?” Roman asked.

“I do need you,” Janus said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Huh?” Roman repeated.

Janus leaned forward over the table suddenly and pressed his lips to Roman’s. Roman’s stillness worried him for a moment, but then he leaned into the kiss.

When Janus awoke in the morning, he was curled up in his bed, in Roman’s arms, still wearing the clothes he’d been wearing the night before.

-

The coronation wasn’t exactly a happy day. Virgil didn’t particularly want the crown. Valerie was the one who was supposed to be the next ruler. The thought of replacing her made Virgil want to vomit. Logan squeezed his hand. Then the acolyte of the Queen Goddess began to speak, to ask Virgil about his oath to the kingdom. Virgil agreed. The crowd cheered. When he left the temple, at least all his friends were waiting for him. Patton hugged him tightly.

-

“What did you decide to name her?” Janus asked, looking down in awe at the cooing infant in his arms.

Patton took a deep breath. “Rhiannon.”

Virgil grinned as the baby gripped his finger. “I love it. That’s a perfect name.”

Roman patted Patton’s shoulder. “Get some rest while you can. We’ll watch over her for a while.” 

A chorus of agreements sounded throughout the room, and Patton found himself feeling so safe and loved that falling asleep was as easy as taking a breath and letting it out.

-

Logan bounced Rhiannon around the group gently, holding her exactly as Patton had shown him. 

“Logan,” Janus said.

“Logan,” Roman repeated.

“Logan!” Virgil said.

Logan looked over. 

“She’s not fussing anymore, silly. Come set her down and lay with us,” Patton instructed. 

Logan set the baby down between Virgil and Patton, then spread himself out on the picnic blanket between Virgil and Thomas. 

“That one looks like a duck,” Patton said softly, pointing to a cloud.

“Yeah,” Janus said. “Yeah, it does.”

Final Note

Wow! I'm so proud of this one, guys! Longest fic I've ever finished!!! I hope you really enjoyed, please tell me what you think! Remember you can find @creative-lampd-liberties's art here [link to art post]! Thank you so much to the mods of @tss-storytime! And thank you to you, yes you, for reading!

[thunderbirdsaregovf]

I wanted to try to create a complete outfit for Virgil if he was in demon slayer

1) natural demon slayer outfit

2) for the jacket I took the same pattern as that of shinobu kocho, the pillar of the insect because I think this power goes well with Virgil

3) the socks are the same color as thunderbird 2

4) the katana and the holster are both with a barrette with leaves (since Virgil loves nature)

5) the hilts and the same as Virgil's badge with some alterations

[margowendice]

Steve McQueen Publicity Photo as Captain Virgil Hilts in 'The Great Escape', 1963.

[lickoutyourbrains]

For the Writer Ask Game (https://www.tumblr.com/lickoutyourbrains/725714213373345792/im-bored-and-anxious-so-i-slapped-together-a-list) how about 19, 20, and 29?

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

The dagger had been an anniversary gift from Janus, his lover and one of the five other people Remus lived with in this house of strange practices. The handle had been decoratively carved to resemble snake scales, and the blade itself had a small engraving of an apple right on the hilt’s base. A little joke between the two of them regarding the so-called, “Original Sin”.

20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written?

Oh jeez... I suppose it'll be House of Tarot Cards? I haven't really had a chance to create very clever fic titles.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

Here's a cut piece from Roman's chapter of Vultures!

~

Roman was unicorn hunting.

He was picky, so sue him! He was an artist for goodness sake! He couldn’t settle for anything less than perfection.

As perfect as he can achieve with the self-imposed limitations that were set upon his creativity of course. It was a challenge after all, to create something recognisable from anything he could find on the grounds that his unicorn lay slumbering.

The only tools he brought we what he could comfortably carry on his person.

And his sword.

What was a knight without his sword after all?

Ugh…

Well Roman supposed that IF he were to listen to Virgil, then one would argue that he looked more like your media-typical ninja, given how he was dressed.

Which wasn’t... wrong...

An all-black getup with only his eyes visible so he could blend into the shadows of the night without drawing attention to himself or his identity could make one think of a ninja instead of a knight… and his sword was a katana…

Whatever!

Camouflage was important!

What else was important was making sure the unicorn was a unicorn before striking. Fauns and ponies were no good to him and it was often that Roman would leave a residence with a disappointed huff, those who slumbered inside blissfully unaware of how close they had brushed with death.

[pedroam-bang]

The Great Escape (1963)

[tss-grimmverse]

Chapter 1: Blackthorn

enter through the alleyway past the invisible door and all the way down the escher staircase in the underworld it’s not the same as before

Six months later

Stetson was small for a university. “Intimate”, the brochure called it. Roman always assumed that Virgil, had it been up to him, would have preferred a sprawling campus where his dark, brooding, emo self could get comfortably lost in a sea of students. But Logan lived in DeLand, and Logan had been Virgil’s only option for staying hidden from his former faery master, Deceit.

So, after Deceit was dead and Virgil decided to finish his art degree after all, he’d come back to the one place he already knew. He was familiar with Stetson’s campus, on good terms with his teachers, and friendly with the local solitaries.

Roman understood that. He didn’t have to like it.

He cut the engine on his motorcycle and yanked off his helmet, flicking back sweat-damp hair. The campus seemed unusually empty; most students had probably gone home for spring break already. His bike was one of only five vehicles left in the University Hall parking lot.

Roman hung the helmet from the handlebars, stretched his arms, worked out the stiffness from his legs. Maybe biking all the way from Pennsylvania wasn't such a great idea. He told himself he'd ridden the bike so he could come and go on his own terms...but truthfully, he could have taken a bus just as easily. He’d brought the bike to show off, to possibly persuade Virgil to take a ride with him while he was here…

But he was getting ahead of himself, as usual.

Roman eyed Virgil’s dormitory in the deepening twilight, scrubbing a hand through his hair again.

Maybe I should find a motel room first. He fished his phone out and slung his backpack over his back. Just so he doesn't feel like he has to offer his space. Just so it's not awkward. 

He could use a walk after all that travel, anyway.

By the time he crossed the dark campus, he'd successfully booked a room. His finger then hovered over Virgil's number. A warning would be polite, especially when it came to Mr. Doesn't Like Surprises. Roman had initially come unannounced so Virgil couldn't talk him out of it, but Roman also didn't want to ruin the progress they'd made since Logan's and Patton's engagement party.

He scuffed his foot as he walked, thoughts swirling like gnats in the streetlights.

He wanted to believe earning that art degree was the only reason Virgil left Philly and returned to a state he admittedly hated, to the one middle-of-nowhere town where a certain former crush happened to live. Sure, Virgil transferring schools in his junior year would have been a needless headache. He’d elected to live in the dorms instead of moving back into Logan’s and Patton’s apartment. He called Roman nearly every week, keeping him updated, claiming he’d been too busy to see anyone except classmates and coworkers.

At the very least, Roman knew Virgil believed his own words. And if I'm not over Virgil, after all this time, he thought bitterly. What right do I have to complain if he’s not completely over Logan?

“Changeling,” a voice murmured in wet-sounding Faery.

Roman realized his wandering had carried him to the fountain at the center of Stetson’s campus, lit up against the growing darkness. A long-limbed naiad lounged on the edge, watching him. She wore black clothes and fishnets like an ordinary human, but Roman’s changeling eyes picked out her waterfall of dripping white hair, bluish skin, and solid black Fae eyes.

Virgil had never mentioned any solitaries around the Stetson fountain. Roman casually brought his backpack around, unzipped it, and curled a hand around his sword hilt.

“What do you want?” he asked.

The naiad arched back, letting her hair spill into the water, where it undulated in the current like pale snakes. “You won’t use that.” She gestured languidly at the bag.

Roman gripped the sword harder. “Maybe I would. You don’t know.”

“Your steel has spilled our blood, but in moons long past. I can smell the difference. You brandish it now for bluster.” She sat up and grinned, showing a mouthful of needle-sharp teeth. “You do not frighten me.”

Fucking enigmatic solitaries. He hated the way they saw straight through any human lie, no matter how carefully constructed. What did it say about him, that she could tell he hadn’t had the stomach to hunt their kind for months? Roman reshouldered his bag and walked on, determined to ignore her.

“Beware pixie territory,” the naiad added as he passed.

Roman stopped but did not turn. “What?”

“Summer in the air. Death in the water.” She grinned again as he turned, eyes narrowed. “Watch your words.”

“What in the Arcadian hell are you talking about?” Roman snapped, fighting a chill.

 But the naiad slid into the fountain with an eerie lack of splash and lay underwater, ignoring him, and Roman knew he’d get no more from her. He scoffed and trudged toward the edge of campus.

Virgil maintained that the solitaries on Stetson’s campus generally liked humans—which, in faery terms, meant the pranksters were mostly harmless and the rest kept to themselves. Plus, solitaries didn’t normally pop out of the metaphorical woodwork and talk to Smile hunters, even lapsed ones.

“Summer in the air. Death in the water. Watch your words.”

She’d meant to warn him.

Pixie territory. The hair on his neck lifted. Could she mean Painter’s Pond?

He bit his lip. This sounded like a hunt.

He considered going back to Virgil’s dorm first…but Virgil wasn’t Smile, and Virgil didn’t know he was here yet. Roman didn’t want their first reunion in months marred by faery drama. No, he would investigate the park and take care of the problem liked the damned hunter he was supposed to be.

Roman walked the few blocks to Painter’s Pond, slowing as he approached, his heart heavy with memories. Logan used to bring Virgil and Roman out here with Nic, and after Patton entered the picture, it became the four of them. He remembered chasing the dog and the pixies, Virgil laughing from the sidelines—when they weren't at each other’s throats. He could almost hear Virgil's low, gravelly voice saying "idiot," could picture him shaking his head with that maddening half-smile. 

It occurred to him that Virgil might not necessarily be in his dorm; he could be at work, out prowling around downtown, or—Roman's heart skipped at the thought—right here on these familiar paths somewhere. Virgil's relationship with this park might be complicated, but surely he still visited his pixie friends from time to time.

Roman took a step onto the grass; his skin instantly prickled. The air felt…wrong, like the trembly hesitance he got before touching a staticky doorknob.

Oh, hell. That naiad did know something.

Roman had been a Smile hunter long enough to never ignore his gut. Faery magic was both insidious and nebulous; it wanted you to dismiss it as nothing, as imagination, as too much stress or not enough sleep. Arguably the most important lesson in faery hunting was learning to ignore that "reasonable" voice in your head.

The park looked empty, streetlamps spilling orange light in pools along the paths. But at the end of the park's low wall, one dark streetlight made a cradle of blackness, bordered by clusters of tiny, bone-white shrooms. A Court circle. Ambient streetlight glimmered off the white, white mushroom caps, especially when he looked out of the corner of his eye.

Roman stalked to the near end of the wall and ducked behind, letting his backpack slide off his shoulders. He opened the main flap and eased out his sword and scabbard, making as little noise as possible. He didn't draw it, yet—he didn't know what he was facing—but he did tie the scabbard to his belt loops.

He then drew in a careful breath and focused inward.

Roman’s old master, who only permitted his changelings to call him Sir, used to hang beaded curtains around his cave lair: intricate patterns picked out in thousands of minuscule beads, strings of fist-sized glass balls that bruised when one crashed into them at a run. Their clacking featured prominently in Roman’s nightmares; some of his earliest memories involved running and putting curtain after curtain between himself and his master’s cruel experiments. That Unseelie had fancied himself a scientist…if careful butchery and elaborate torture could be considered science. And Roman happened to develop the one power guaranteed to drive such a master to unhinged fury: luck.

Roman learned to slip through those beaded strings like a ghost, disturbing them as little as possible so they wouldn’t clack and betray his passage. He often wondered if that stealthy sidestep he’d cultivated led to him gaining the ability to touch something as ephemeral as possibility. Drawing on his power felt like running through Sir’s lair, each bead in each curtain representing an outcome. Every decision, every movement, even his thoughts parted the strands in different ways. The trick to manipulating luck, he discovered, was to find the beads you wanted while not disturbing the rest.

Know where you’re going.

Sidestep.

I need to know what is going on, he chanted silently.

Keep the rest quiet.

I need to see and to not be noticed by unfriendly eyes.

Pass through.

I need to know. 

The back of his neck tingled, hairs rising as the familiar warm sensation of possibility slid glassily over his skin.

“What are you doing here?” a voice chimed in his ear.

Roman startled and found himself face-to-face with a soot-skinned, flame-haired pixie, whose tiny eyes were round o’s of surprise. She landed primly on the hand he instinctively raised.

“Tourmaline?” he hissed. That was fast.

“I am not displeased to see you, Roman Princey,” she said. “But it has been some time.”

Roman hid a cringe. He knew she only called him Princey because Virgil did, but now that particular nickname reminded him a little too much of Johnny Prince.

“I got a weird warning from a weird naiad and came to investigate.” he said, gesturing at the mushrooms. “What’s with the Court ring? I thought DeLand was still unclaimed.”

Tourmaline’s face grew pinched. She had always been more polite and serious than Virgil’s favorites, Wren and Wrassey. Roman suspected that was why Logan preferred her company.

“I believe this is the work of a single Court Fae working alone, though I have not seen them. The ring grew several days ago, and of more concern, many of my clan have since gone missing.” Her chiming voice dropped to a soft echo of itself. “I cannot penetrate the mushroom barrier myself, but I suspect that is where my sisters are.”

Well, that didn’t sound good at all.

“Can I help?” Roman asked.

She cast him an appraising look, her gaze lingering on his sheathed sword. “Your appearance is auspiciously well-timed.”

“You know me,” he said with a wink.

“It so happens that my purpose in coming to the wall tonight was to seek the help of…ah.”

Her wings carried her over Roman’s head, and she buzzed hard enough for them to glow like a beacon. Roman followed the line of her gaze.

Oh, luck.

Logan Ursae, his straight-backed posture unmistakable even in the low light, crossed the grassy park and made a beeline for Tourmaline’s glowing body. Oddly, neither Patton nor Nicodemus were with him. The half-faery slowed as he noticed Roman crouched in the shadows.

“S’up, Nerdy Wolverine?” Roman shot him a jaunty salute.

Logan opened his mouth, shut it again, and sighed.

“In the interest of saving time, I will not ask the obvious question,” he said in his low, resonant voice. “Clearly your luck has carried you along as it usually does.”

“Nice to see you, too.” Roman rolled his eyes.

Just as well I hadn’t called Virgil yet.

Logan knelt, adjusting his glasses and peering over the wall. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked on his teeth.

“It’s still here?” he said to Tourmaline.

“You don’t sound surprised to see a Court ring in your stargazing park,” Roman commented.

“I have been monitoring it for several days now.” Logan scowled. “Normally, I would leave such things alone, as I try to stay clear of Court matters. But, if I have interpreted your message correctly”—he glanced at the hovering pixie— “Wren and Wrassey are now among your missing kin?”

Tourmaline nodded.

Roman’s heart sank; she’d meant “sisters” literally. “Does Virgil know? Those are his friends. Has he been here to see the ring?”

“I do not know.” Logan’s voice gave nothing away. “I have not seen him since he arrived in DeLand.”

Good, Roman’s mind supplied nastily, prompting a pang of guilt. “What are we gonna do?”

“I meant to attempt a crossing tonight,” Logan said. “Tourmaline, am I correct in assuming solitary Fae are still barred?

The pixie settled onto Logan’s shoulder and nodded.

“And any human would just walk from one side to the other like it wasn’t even there,” Roman added.

“You know how Court-laid rings work.” Logan shot Roman a contemplative look.

“May I remind you that I’m a Smile hunter, Pain in the Nexus Instrument?” Roman snarked, grinning when Logan pulled a confused face. “Earthside Courts love their little magical pockets where they can lure in unsuspecting humans, or do their dirty work unobserved.”

“Or merely live their lives, safe from humans and Arcadian kin alike,” Logan added with a frown.

Roman waved that off. “Whatever the reason, it never occurs to them that a barrier like this”—he gestured at the mushroom ring—“designed to be inaccessible to Fae and invisible to humans, might still be vulnerable to us. Most of the time, Smile changelings can slip right in.” He stood and drew his sword in one swift motion. “Which is what I’m gonna do right now.”

Blackthorn: boundaries

[tanushakyrano]

febuwhump day 23: 'you'll have to go through me.'

this leads directly on from yesterday's prompt! sorry about the cliffhanger lmao

characters: Virgil, Alan

additional warnings: violence, blood, injury, guns + knives

___________

There's a moment when Virgil thinks this is it.

There is a man, and he has a gun pointed at his little brother's head. Virgil doesn't know who he is, why he set the trap for them, what his motives are beyond putting both of them in the ground. He doesn't know the name of the man who shot him in the shoulder not thirty seconds ago, and it really pisses him off.

Of course, the depth of that anger is nothing compared to the bottomless chasm of fear and panic and terror he feels as the man casually moves his finger onto the trigger.

Virgil is too far away. Even if he started running that instant - even if he'd started running as soon as the guy had pointed that stupid gun at Alan - he'd never make it in time. It's a matter of relative distances, the length of corridor between Virgil and the man and the distance between his finger and the trigger, and there are additional factors such as the bullet that's nestled itself against his collarbone and the despicable laziness of this assassin that means he's taking an age to actually put his finger on the trigger, but ultimately it boils down to this: Virgil cannot save him. He cannot save his brother from this. There is nothing he can do except watch in abject horror as-

He fires.

Alan jerks back violently, and Virgil's mind is so tangled in a thousand different emotions that for a second he doesn't register that there is no gunshot and no blood and the movement is a flinch rather than the recoil from the impact of a bullet. Virgil sags in relief.

Their adversary, however, simply looks mildly disappointed. He gives the gun a once-over, clucking his tongue as the chamber turns out to be empty. "Shame," he murmurs. "I'd hoped to get this over with quickly." He doesn't seem to care that Virgil and Alan can both hear him. "No matter."

His hand twitches towards a knife in a scabbard that had previously gone unnoticed, and that's when Virgil sees red.

"Don't you dare."

"I'm sorry?"

"You're not laying a hand on my brother." Pain lends an additional edge to Virgil's words, each syllable biting like steel. His feet drag slightly along the floor as he steps forward. "I swear to you, I will die before I let you touch him."

"Big threats for a boy who's bleeding out."

Virgil laughs. He actually laughs. "This? This is nothing. I've survived much, much worse."

For a split second, the man almost seems to lose his composure. A twitch of a facial muscle, nothing more, but it's there. It gives Virgil a little hope that maybe both he and Alan can make it out of this one alive.

"I'm going to gut your brother like a fish, Tracy."

Virgil breaks into a run and closes the distance between them in moments, launching himself at the man and tackling him into the ground.

They hit the floor hard. Virgil's stayed on top, though, and the man takes the full force of the impact. The knife is in the assassin's hand, but Virgil grabs the hilt and now he's embroiled in the most dangerous tug of war of his life. Spittle sprays across his face. There's yelling. It sounds an awful lot like his own voice. The man's trying to push the blade at him, trying to cut through his flesh. Virgil pushes back. He isn't in the mood to suffer a second penetrating wound today.

Virgil can't quite think straight. It's the adrenaline, or the beginnings of the effects of blood loss - likely a worrying combination of both. He's so focused on keeping the blade away from him that when there's a choking gasp and a sudden lack of resistance from the man he's grappling with, it takes a second for the information to reach his brain.

He scrambles clumsily away, out of the tangle of limbs on the floor of an abandoned building in the middle of Nothingsville, Neverwhere. There's blood on the lino. 

Some of it's his.

Some of it's not.

Alan's eyes are wide as he inches out of his hiding spot. He moves, crouched, to Virgil's side, not taking his eyes off the man on the ground as he lies there, unmoving.

"Virgil…"

"I didn't mean to."

The words tumble from his mouth. It sort of hits him all at once that there's a knife sticking out of the guy's stomach and Virgil put it there. 

The worst part is that he knows - without a doubt that - he'd do it all again to save Alan.

[logarhythm-bees]

To Unearth and Back Again; ⛅Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty Two | Table of Contents | Chapter Twenty Four

See ronithesnail's absolutely wonderful art for this story!

This chapter contains fantasy violence and blood!

So count your blessings every day It makes the monsters go away And everything will be okay You are not alone You are right at home

-Light In The Hallway, Pentatonix

He should’ve been used it now, but somehow it still took him off guard.

One second he was standing there in the empty cavern, anticipating an attack, and the next there was a little stuffed otter hitting him in the face and glowing as soon as it made contact.

“Not this again,” Roman groaned, backing away as the otter was consumed by the glow and grew much, much bigger, towering over them on its two hind legs. “Haven’t we had enough?”

Something at the back of his mind edged at him, telling him maybe he hadn’t learned his lesson. 

Unfortunately, Roman wouldn’t be surprised.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on that though, because as the glow cleared, the otter took a swing at him. He jumped away, sending a few pebbles tumbling with his weight.

“Roman!” Logan called, and the otter turned towards him, slashing at him with open claws. Logan strategically dodged the blow, leaping out of the way. Patton made a frustrated grunt and ran up ahead to where the otter’s paw had settled. He started kicking it angrily.

“Don’t! You! Hurt! My! Friends!” Patton said, punctuating every word with a kick. The otter ignored him.

Virgil looked at the daggers in his hands, debating throwing them, but seemed to decide that was a bad idea, tucking one back into his belt and holding the other in his dominant hand. Thomas jumped into a fighting stance, putting his fists up.

Roman took his sword out of the hilt, ready to swing. Logan beat him to it, though, shooting a blast of magic towards the otter’s head. It missed, knocking aside some rocks to allow sunlight through the cavern’s roof instead, but the otter followed the rocks as they tumbled down, swinging at them instead of the group.

“Oh, look,” Patton whispered, pointing up towards the otter’s face. “They can’t see.”

Gazing up, finally seeing the otter in the full light, Roman finally realized that it was wearing a blindfold, a pale blue scarf keeping the light out of its eyes.

“It must be listening for movement. That’s why it went after the rocks,” Logan realized.

“Then we know how to stop it!” Roman exclaimed, swinging his sword and taking Virgil’s non-daggered hand in his. “Come on!”

He might have been a little overzealous, he had to admit as Thomas called after him, but heaven forgive him, he was tired of fighting and running and plushies hitting him in the face out of nowhere and he wanted to get this over with.

“Alright!” Virgil said, egging him on. “What’s the plan?”

“If it’s listening for noise, we’ve got to draw its attention to somewhere we can swing at it,” Roman told him. “We can— there!” 

Roman tugged Virgil to a pile of rocks on the side of the cave, helping him up. The otter was facing away from them, still inspecting the rock—and wow, was it this big a second ago?—but Roman steeled himself, looking towards Virgil. Virgil nodded back to him.

“Cone HERE!” Roman taunted, yelling at the otter, who turned towards him immediately with a roar. He stamped his feet for good measure, and the otter swung, Roman and Virgil both taking the opportunity to slash at it. 

The otter roared again, this time in discomfort at the new cuts on its paw. It reared back to draw again, and Roman felt Virgil get ready to jump out of the way with him, but the pain in its paw through it off-course and it swung through the rocks under their feet instead.

Roman couldn’t help the shout at the back of his throat as he tumbled to the floor, and neither could Virgil, it seemed, yelping after him. He tried to lift himself back on his feet with a groan, helping Virgil up too, but his body hurt and he was too slow.

The otter followed the noise, steadying itself, and aimed.

“WATCH OUT!” Patton shouted, sprinting ahead to them, Logan right on his heels. Roman felt frozen in place, ice in his bones even with Virgil’s hand in his, staring up at sharp claws and fangs and feeling to helpless to do anything but stare.

That was until a sharp tug startled him into a yelp, and suddenly the world was spinning far too fast as he was pulled out of the way, feet off their balance, hand yanked out of Virgil’s. He didn’t even have a second to think before he was laying dizzily on chilly shale, and even less time to process the two blurs of blue before Virgil was lying next to him and a resounding thump and then explosion sounded throughout the cavern.

“Ugh,” Roman said, ears ringing. “What did-”

He cut himself off as he fully saw the scene in front of him, and the ringing in his ears became deafening silence before it returned even louder than before.

“PATTON! LOGAN!” He shouted, stumbling waveringly to his feet and rushing over. Thomas had already reached their spot on the ground before Roman was there, fussing anxiously with him. Logan groaned, rolling onto his back, Patton huffing and struggling for breath as he clutched at his tunic. Logan’s hand was still sparkling from the spell he’d cast, stunning the beast towards the end of the cavern, but the glitter was fading, and Logan’s breaths were coming in shallower and shallower. 

“Why did you do that, you idiots–” Roman choked out, dragging Logan to a sitting position and helping Patton roll onto his side as he coughed. “Can you hear me?”

“‘M here,” Logan said, voice strained. “Fine.”

“You are not ‘fine’, Captain Book!” Roman yelled, half through his teeth. Virgil, forcing himself up with a limp, came over as fast as he could, hands hovering around the two in uncertainty. “Why would you jump in the way like that? Are you insane?”

“Had to keep you safe,” Patton croaked, starting himself into a coughing fit. Logan nodded, shaking himself out, slowly coming back to.

Roman stared. “You– did that for us?” he breathed. 

“Why?”

“‘Course we did, kiddo,” Patton said, and oh, how had Roman realized only now how long it had been since he’d called him that? “You’re family.”

Roman couldn’t help the wounded noise at the back of his throat. 

“I’m okay,” Patton mumbled, pushing himself into a seating position. He was betrayed a second later by his lungs forcing another round of coughs from his chest, and he curled around himself, knees drawn in close. 

“You are not,” Roman insisted, and Patton opened his mouth to retort, but a roar sounded from the other end of the cave, sending all of them quiet. 

“I’ll handle it,” Virgil said, stepping away and rushing down the slope before anyone could stop him. He used his daggers almost like piolets, dashing towards the other side of the cave and digging the blades into the soft calcite to pull himself up.

“OVER HERE!” he shouted, getting the otter’s attention away from the injured pair. Roman and Thomas took the opportunity to get Patton and Logan to safety, Roman scooping Patton into his arms and Thomas helping Logan lean on his shoulder as they stumbled back to the mouth of the cave. 

“Oh, Patton…” Roman crooned, looking at the side in his arms. His breathing had evened, and he was clinging to Roman with more strength than he’d shown a few moments ago, but there was a gash across his chest from the otter’s claws, not deep enough to bleed too heavily though certainly deep enough to hurt. 

Roman sat Patton down against the cavern’s wall, careful as not to jostle him. Thomas slid down next to them with Logan on his side, weight against his arm.

Roman got to work looking through Patton’s satchels, hoping he wouldn’t mind. He fumbled through various supplies until he found the antiseptic and some clean cloths.

“Can I touch you, Patton?” Roman asked, and Patton nodded, exhaustion obvious as he leaned his head against the wall.

“This might sting, I’m sorry.” Roman started, dabbing some of the antiseptic onto the cloth, like Patton had done for him before. It felt so long ago now, as Roman carefully cleaned the wound. It had only been a little time since then, but they’d been through so much since then, it already seemed to be ages ago.

Virgil’s clatter of rocks in the background kept him alert, listening for any call from an injury–or worse, prolonged silence if Virgil had gotten swiped at particularly badly– but Virgil was quick on his feet, dodging and weaving with newfound adrenaline as he poked verbally at the otter to come after him. 

Keeping an ear out for a change in the commotion behind him, Roman wiped the blood away from the wound, being cautious not to press too hard. The wound didn’t look like it had gotten any dirt in it, thankfully, so he laid a couple bandages over it width-wise, and then one along the length of the cut, covering it.

“That thing hit pretty hard, didn’t it?” Roman noted, trying to make conversation. “I wish I knew why.”

“People struggle because of what they can’t see.” Patton said, softly. “Sometimes they hurt others.” Then, after a moment, added, “Sometimes they just hurt.”

Roman glanced swiftly over to the otter. The blindfold was still on, but it had been knocked loose when Logan had hit it with the magic blast. 

Light from the cavern roof bounced off of its fur, and Roman’s head spun for a moment, whirling with a realization. 

“These creatures,” he said, “They’re just reflections of our own insecurities. They hurt us because they show us how we don’t want to be seen.” He breathed out, looking at Patton. “And sometimes those are the visions of us we think are the truth.

But they’re not,” Roman continued. “I-”

Looking down at the bandages in his hand, Roman got an idea.

“I’ll be back.” He finished, and jumped down the slope of the cave.

Virgil was still deftly jumping around, using his daggers to climb from rock to rock and evade the otter’s claws. He didn’t slow down, but Roman could see that his breathing was becoming heavier and he was growing tired.

Luckily, Roman had a plan.

“HEY!” He called as soon as Virgil was on stable ground, not wanting to startle him while he was mid-parkour. “OTTER DUDE! OVER HERE!”

The otter turned to him with a roar, slipping on the rocks with its sharp spin and coming barreling after Roman. 

Roman had to act quickly; Tying one end of the bandage around a stalagmite, he ran as fast as he could to one on the other side, fastening it tightly, just like one of those traps in cartoons. 

He just hoped it worked quite as well. 

Rumbling forwards, the otter ran towards where Roman had been, the side waiting anxiously, with baited breath. It drew closer and closer, Roman biting his tongue. Each step matched with the pounding of his heart as he clasped his hands, praying that this would work. Come on, Come on,

Thump!

Thump!

THUMP!

The otter fell forwards, back paws caught in the bandage, and Roman cheered. He dashed over to the mouth of the cave again, helping Patton to his feet and supporting him towards the creature’s head.

“Roman?” Patton squeaked. “What are you-”

“You’ve got to be the one to defeat it, Patton.” Roman said. “It’s–it’s linked to you, you can help.”

Patton blinked at him, un-protesting but concerned. He stumbled forwards alongside Roman, who shifted most of Patton’s weight onto his own feet. Reaching the creature, he took one end of the ribbon and placed it in Patton’s hand, nodding.

‘Oh.” Patton said in a whisper. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Roman told him.

Patton took the ribbon from him, chest rising in nervousness. Taking it in both his hands, he began to pull. The blindfold had seemed heavy to Roman when he’d lifted it up a moment ago, but it was almost as if it weighed nothing to Patton, gently tugging at the silk until it fell away, tender as he carefully removed it from where it had snagged on some fur. So careful even with something he’d hurt.

Even with something that had hurt him.

Roman made an oath to do something about those uncomfortable feelings that kept coming up.

The blindfold came off all the way, leaving the cavern residents waiting in anticipation as the otter stood with its eyes still closed. It smiled then, and opened its eyes, which were glowing bright white. It turned towards Virgil, who froze under its gaze, before it turned back to Patton, looked into the sunlight, and disappeared, leaving nothing but the ordinary old plush toy in its wake.

[bigbadmuerte]

Philip grimaces. "Well I can't say I like the sound of that and I fear I might regret having eaten so shortly before, but it's just a walk. How bad can it be?" He tries to twist the grimace into a determined smile and partially succeeds, pushing his chair back with a grating noise as it scrapes against the tile and getting to his feet. "Let us not waste any time."

Muerte is far less enthusiastic as he stands from the table. "Yeah. Let's just get this over with. This is the worst part. Just don't stray from me, and hold your breath. It helps."

With that being said, he places a hand firmly between Phillip's shoulder blades, picks up Azura entirely, and steps in between, guiding Phillip's footsteps.

All light vanishes immediately. Somehow, the darkness is still tangible, an endless expanse that stretches out ad nauseam, somewhere between the middle of a deep forest and an ocean, both cloying and lonely at once.

Phillip and Death take a step.

And there are faces, human shapes, in that darkness.

Azura might catch glimpses of them in the corners of her eyes, like shadowy nightmares that evaporate with dawn, but for Phillip, they're ever present. An army that melds in and out of itself, a thousand faces that are at once horribly familiar and impossibly vague. All of their eyes (how many? dear god, how many?) are on him.

Another step.

Death keeps firm contact, doggedly facing forwards, as the remnants reach out for Phillip. They never touch, never even graze, yet the closer they get, the more dread seeps into him. They want something from him. A million things, none of which have names, all of which are a sobbing yearning. They'd take it from him, if they could, until there was none of him left, and it'd still not be enough.

Another step.

Dear god, how many of them are there? Why are there so many? Why are they there for him? He's a God-fearing man, always doing right by the church. And yet, it's so clear that they're here for him. They almost feel... familiar, but there's no memory to go along with them.

He is Dante, moving through Purgatory.

There is no Virgil here to guide him to Heaven, nor to protect him from Hell.

Another step.

Caleb is here, somehow. Somewhere. This is a Fact that settles into Phillip's bones. He could almost swear he could see his brother's eyes in the gloom, not wanting, just watching. But why is he here, amongst these forsaken souls who demand so much from him?

The hilt of Caleb's knife rests on the back of his head, taken from his brother by this sea of souls. With herculean effort, they wrap their hands around the blade, each motion an eternity, a driven effort. How do so many hands wrap around such a small object? Yet they manage, pairs and pairs and pairs and pairs and pairs of hands. Something seeps from their palms. It is not blood, but it appears they have not forgotten how to bleed.

The blade rears back, and it is clear they are readying a blow. They will take from him, again and again and again. They rear back, and Phillip is hit-

-with sunlight, dappled, underneath a foreign canopy. Sunlight, and only sunlight, lands against his form. The wolf's palm continues to rest heavily on his back. Death lets out a deep sigh with a shake of his head, looking a little dazed.

"Well, we made it through at least. Ugh. I really shouldn't have taken you both through at once... Too much attention with two living souls..."

[siiinfully]

24 M/F for dealer’s choice. [ jennifer c. for virgil ] from @deviiates

She thought that her life would change when she was turned into a succubus. She would never get to graduate, earn a college degree, get a job, meet a decent guy, and start a family. But she was wrong. Very, very wrong. Reconnecting with the guy who made her not a v/irgin – and thus kept her from being sacrificed to whatever dark powers were at work – proved to be the best thing to happen to her.

He was the best thing that happened to her.

And when she told him what she had become, what had happened to her, he didn’t run. If anything, he stayed. Maybe it was partly because of the mind-blowing s.ex she gave him whenever he asked it, but she liked to believe that it was because he really loved her. “Favorite view,” she murmured as she sank down onto his lap, her puffy folds gripping the sides of his shaft as her c.unt swallowed more and more of it.

All the way down to the hilt, thick drops of her juices already dripping from her. “I think this is how I lost it in the first place, right? Rubbing over you while you were wearing those basketball shorts? Mmmmm…” She let out a hiss of laughter as she began riding him, no longer bothering with prolonged foreplay.

[ozzyscollectiblehub]

Steve McQueen: The King of Cool and Hollywood’s Iconic Rebel

Few actors have left as indelible a mark on Hollywood as Steve McQueen. Dubbed the “King of Cool,” McQueen captivated audiences with his gritty performances, effortless charisma, and undeniable screen presence. His life and career were a blend of rebellion, charm, and raw talent, making him an enduring symbol of masculinity and toughness in the 1960s and 70s. Whether racing through the streets of San Francisco in Bullitt, or outwitting the Nazis in The Great Escape, McQueen’s roles reflected the rugged individualism that defined him as both a star and a cultural icon.

McQueen’s life off-screen was just as fascinating as the characters he portrayed. A man who lived on the edge, he was a rebel in Hollywood and an adventurer in life, embodying a sense of freedom that few actors have since matched. His journey from a troubled childhood to becoming one of the biggest movie stars in the world is as compelling as the films he starred in.

Early Life: A Troubled Start

Born Terrence Stephen McQueen on March 24, 1930, in Beech Grove, Indiana, McQueen had a tumultuous early life. His father left the family before he was born, and his mother struggled to raise him, leading McQueen to spend much of his childhood in reform schools and foster homes. His early years were marked by rebellion, and he often found himself on the wrong side of authority. Yet, it was during these rough years that McQueen developed the toughness and self-reliance that would later become central to his on-screen persona.

At the age of 17, McQueen enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps, where he straightened out his life and began to discipline himself. His experiences in the Marines taught him a sense of structure and purpose, and after being honorably discharged, McQueen began exploring different avenues of work, eventually finding his way to acting.

The Road to Hollywood Stardom

After moving to New York City, McQueen enrolled at the famed Actors Studio, where he studied method acting under the legendary Lee Strasberg. His breakthrough came when he landed a role in the 1958 television series Wanted: Dead or Alive, where he portrayed bounty hunter Josh Randall. The series catapulted McQueen into the national spotlight, and his tough, laconic style made him an instant hit with audiences.

But it was McQueen’s jump to the silver screen that truly launched him into superstardom. His role in The Magnificent Seven (1960), alongside Yul Brynner, brought him widespread recognition. As Vin Tanner, McQueen played a gunslinger with a quiet, steely resolve — a character that would become a trademark of his acting career. From this point on, McQueen’s star continued to rise, and he quickly became one of Hollywood’s most sought-after leading men.

Iconic Roles: The Great Escape, Bullitt, and Beyond

One of McQueen’s most famous performances came in 1963 with the release of The Great Escape. Playing Captain Virgil Hilts, a rebellious American POW who leads an audacious escape from a German camp during World War II, McQueen delivered a performance that cemented his status as a bona fide movie star. The scene in which he escapes on a motorcycle, evading Nazi soldiers, became one of the most iconic moments in film history.

In Bullitt (1968), McQueen took on the role of Frank Bullitt, a no-nonsense San Francisco cop who is determined to uncover the truth behind a murder case. The film’s famous car chase through the hilly streets of San Francisco, in which McQueen did much of his own stunt driving, remains one of the greatest action sequences ever put to film. Bullitt was the ultimate showcase of McQueen’s “cool” factor, blending his understated acting style with heart-pounding action. It’s no surprise that the role became synonymous with McQueen’s legacy.

McQueen’s penchant for speed and adventure was reflected in many of his film choices. In Le Mans (1971), he portrayed a professional race car driver, a role that allowed him to indulge his love of fast cars. The movie became a cult classic, particularly among racing enthusiasts, and reinforced McQueen’s connection to the world of motorsport.

Other standout films from McQueen’s career include The Thomas Crown Affair (1968), where he played a suave, sophisticated millionaire turned bank robber, and Papillon (1973), a gripping prison escape drama co-starring Dustin Hoffman, which showcased McQueen’s ability to combine grit and vulnerability in a single performance.

A Rebel on and Off Screen

While McQueen’s on-screen persona exuded cool confidence, his off-screen life was equally dynamic. He was a man who lived on his own terms, pursuing a wide range of interests, from motorcycles to racing cars. His love of speed and adventure was no Hollywood act — McQueen was a competitive racer, participating in numerous motorcycle and auto races. He famously performed many of his own stunts, and his dedication to the racing world earned him a reputation as a serious competitor, not just a movie star playing a role.

McQueen’s personal life was as colorful as his career. He was married three times, most famously to actress Ali MacGraw, with whom he had a tumultuous relationship. Despite his fame and fortune, McQueen never lost his sense of rebelliousness, often clashing with directors and studios over creative decisions. His reputation as a difficult actor only added to his mystique, making him a figure of intrigue both in Hollywood and among his fans.

In the 1970s, at the height of his career, McQueen took a step back from acting, preferring to focus on his personal passions and enjoy the quieter aspects of life. His retreat from the limelight was characteristic of his independent spirit — McQueen was never one to follow Hollywood’s rules or expectations.

Illness and Legacy

In 1979, McQueen was diagnosed with mesothelioma, a rare and aggressive form of cancer often linked to asbestos exposure. Despite seeking alternative treatments, his health rapidly deteriorated, and he passed away on November 7, 1980, at the age of 50.

Though McQueen’s life was cut tragically short, his legacy endures. His films continue to captivate new generations of viewers, and his influence on popular culture remains palpable. The “King of Cool” left behind a body of work that epitomized a unique blend of toughness, vulnerability, and style that few actors have been able to replicate.

McQueen’s rebellious spirit, love of adventure, and undeniable charisma made him a cultural icon. His influence extends beyond his films; he is remembered for his fashion sense, with his minimalist, rugged style still emulated today. From the motorcycle jackets and aviator sunglasses he sported on screen to his effortlessly cool demeanor, Steve McQueen remains a timeless figure of masculine coolness.

The Enduring Appeal of Steve McQueen

Steve McQueen’s rise from a troubled youth to Hollywood superstar is the stuff of legend. He was a man who lived life on his own terms, and that sense of independence and authenticity came through in every role he played. Whether he was a cop chasing down criminals, a race car driver pushing his limits, or a POW plotting his escape, McQueen brought a level of intensity and cool to the screen that has yet to be matched.

In life and in film, McQueen embodied the qualities of a true American rebel: tough, fearless, and always in control. His iconic performances, love of speed, and unapologetic approach to life make him one of the most fascinating figures in Hollywood history. Decades after his passing, Steve McQueen remains a symbol of cool — a legacy that shows no signs of fading.

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